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I mainly just wanted that thread title on the innertube.
But I wonder, has anyone spoken with Gearhart Chevrolet today?
I wouldn't want a lunatic like Doug Bulna having access to my corporate computer files.
The damage he could do to a company is immeasurable.
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I think it's pretty much a given that they've known, at least since Monday morning if not before.
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The damage he could do to a company is immeasurable.
I wouldn't worry about him. But his pet mouse tweak and his relatives are another story.
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Doug Bulna started trying to piss off customers in the service waiting area on the 23rd.
My guess is that last week was a better week for Doug than this week.
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My guess is that last week was a better week for Doug than this week.
I hope so; he's never going to get better until he realizes what a rectal aperture he's been.
All his life.
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One has to admit that they have a problem, if the problem is to get solved.
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Watching and waiting...
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Wonder if Gearhart Chevrolet http://www.gearhartchevy.net/ will ever have CC threads show when Googled.
Have heard that it can happen when a name like Gearhart Chevrolet appears often on a website. :)
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Wonder if Gearhart Chevrolet http://www.gearhartchevy.net/ will ever have CC threads show when Googled.
Have heard that it can happen when a name like Gearhart Chevrolet appears often on a website. :)
Yes, it would be an 'interesting' thing if Gearhart Chevrolet threads on CC came up, when Gearhart Chevrolet was searched, wouldn't it be? O-) :fuelfire: :whistling:
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Wonder if Gearhart Chevrolet http://www.gearhartchevy.net/ will ever have CC threads show when Googled.
Have heard that it can happen when a name like Gearhart Chevrolet appears often on a website. :)
That implies that mentioning Gearhart Chevrolet (the web-site for Gearhart Chevrolet can be found at http://www.gearhartchevy.net/ ) and Conservative Cave (also known as CC, the Conservative Cave / CC web-site can be found at http://www.conservativecave.com/ ) on a frequent basis together would be a helpful idea if the good people of Gearhart Chevrolet are going to discover that the sysadmin of Gearhart Chevrolet, Doug Bulna, has been feature on Conservative Cave (CC) boasting about his bad behaviour at Gearhart Chevrolet.
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Watching and waiting...
You know, at the very least, they could punish the rectal aperture by piping Rush Limbaugh into his office 24/7/365; I've never heard Rush, for obvious reasons, but I'm guessing there's maybe some idiosyncrasy in his voice or delivery that would drive the tax-evading brain-damaged primitive nuts.
The flubby loser's got to learn that God gave him ears, and he's supposed to use them, he's supposed to listen, so that he may become a better person.
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Hmm...just nadined "Gearhart Chevrolet Bulna".
Results were interesting.
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Hmm...just nadined "Gearhart Chevrolet Bulna".
Results were interesting.
Oh my.
You're right.
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I "Binged" Gearhart Chevrolet Bulna. Just one interesting entry on page one.
May have to try "Gearhart Chevrolet Bulna" on the google. Just a sec.
:lmao: :lmao: OK, that was interesting. :rotf:
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Oh my.
You're right.
Is he still on their page?
Yup appears he is depending on which page one hits.
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http://www.zoominfo.com/p/Doug-Bulna/1106842049
The profile was last updated 7/13/13
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I mainly just wanted that thread title on the innertube.
But I wonder, has anyone spoken with Gearhart Chevrolet today?
I wouldn't want a lunatic like Doug Bulna having access to my corporate computer files.
The damage he could do to a company is immeasurable.
It worked.
If you google Doug's good name:
https://www.google.com/#q=Doug+Bulna
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It worked.
If you google Doug's good name:
https://www.google.com/#q=Doug+Bulna
For the old timers.
Channeling William Bendix; "What a revoltin' development this is!"
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So... if by chance Doug Bulna loses his job at Gearhart Chevrolet and he applies for one elsewhere, and that company googles Doug Bulna name or Gearhart Chevrolet where he worked before, all of these threads about how he messes with and shows bias towards their customers and tampers with and hides company property will show up for their review. Interesting.
Like the way I added the So.... I picked that up from the DUmmies site...I hope that is the only bad habit I pick up from them.
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Here's the way it looks right now:
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/braindamaged_zpse3ca2250.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/braindamaged_zpse3ca2250.jpg.html)
A thing of beauty; an awesome thing.
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I just hope this has no negative impact on Doug's career.
I have the impression that he isn't very well prepared for retirement.
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I just hope this has no negative impact on Doug's career.
I have the impression that he isn't very well prepared for retirement.
I don't think the brain-damaged primitive was very well prepared for life, period.
I know I've been ranting and raving about this, but damn it, I just can't stress it enough. Most decent and civilized people dislike the brain-damaged primitive for various reasons; he's a primitive, he's a rectal aperture, he's a wife-abandoner, he's a generally overall negative person, he supports corrupt political machines, he's a whiner, maybe he has bad body odor (stated as just a guess, not a fact), &c., &c., &c.
Myself, I'm a pretty indulgent, tolerant person; I can live with all that.
But what's always gotten my goat about the brain-damaged primitive is his fondness for putting other primitives on "ignore;" he doesn't want to hear what they have to say, he doesn't want to hear anything with which he disagrees.
God gave him two ears and one mouth, I guess hinting that one's supposed to listen twice as much as one talks.
Myself, totally deaf born absent ears, I spent my days frantically, desperately, futilely, trying to "hear," and usually failing. I don't care what it is; I'd just like to hear it.
And we have this big blub with two good ears, and he refuses to use them.
What an ass.
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I just hope this has no negative impact on Doug's career.
I have the impression that he isn't very well prepared for retirement.
Be a real bitch if he starved in the dark, wouldn't it?
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But what's always gotten my goat about the brain-damaged primitive is his fondness for putting other primitives on "ignore;" he doesn't want to hear what they have to say, he doesn't want to hear anything with which he disagrees.
Well, I've always believed myself to be a candidate for the second-nicest guy one could ever hope to meet, yet I'm ever thankful for the ability to put vestanumbers on "ignore", along with all the long, boring, annoying sig lines people feel compelled to post.
There shouldn't be a penalty for protecting your sanity.
And I was joking about my concern for Crazy Doug's career.
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Well, I've always believed myself to be a candidate for the second-nicest guy one could ever hope to meet, yet I'm ever thankful for the ability to put vestanumbers on "ignore", along with all the long, boring, annoying sig lines people feel compelled to post.
There shouldn't be a penalty for protecting your sanity.
And I was joking about my concern for Crazy Doug's career.
I've been tempted to put vesta on "ignore," but I won't do it; as a moderator, I'm professionally and ethically required to listen to every member.
However, just because one listens, doesn't mean one takes the other person seriously.
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And I was joking about my concern for Crazy Doug's career.
You had us all fooled, especially given how concerned you are for the DUmmies' welfare usually...
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Be a real bitch if he starved in the dark, wouldn't it?
Maybe some DUmmy will see a homeless Doug Bulna begging on a street corner for food. They will buy him a Chic-Fil-A chicken sandwich then run to the DUmp and proceed to tell the rest of DUmmyville a bouncy.
So here I was...
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I just hope this has no negative impact on Doug's career.
I have the impression that he isn't very well prepared for retirement.
I do believe that employers are doing a google search as well as wanting your Facebook info as part of research for potential employee's.
Doug Bulna had better keep a low profile, if he doesn't get shit canned at Gearhart Chevrolet.
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Tucker, I wonder if you might consider changing avatars. It's giving me the creeps. :lmao:
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Tucker, I wonder if you might consider changing avatars. It's giving me the creeps. :lmao:
Didn't you make the same request about the one with the crawling bugs?
Anyway, done.
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Tucker...I really like your new avatar.....
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I've been tempted to put vesta on "ignore," but I won't do it; as a moderator, I'm professionally and ethically required to listen to every member.
However, just because one listens, doesn't mean one takes the other person seriously.
She's (vesta) getting better.
One has to admit that they have a problem, if the problem is to get solved.
Problem ? What problem ??
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Tucker...I really like your new avatar.....
Thanks.
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Thanks.
It is quite nice. I'm not sure I would have noticed without it being pointed out by Linda. So maybe Linda deserves another Thanks !
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I like it too! You can bring back the obamazombie at Halloween! :-)
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I like it too! You can bring back the obamazombie at Halloween! :-)
You know, I just thought of something.
It took me a while to think of it, because I don't do movies or television.
Isn't the brain-damaged primitive oddly similar with John Belushi as Bluto in that one movie?
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You know, I just thought of something.
It took me a while to think of it, because I don't do movies or television.
Isn't the brain-damaged primitive oddly similar with John Belushi as Bluto in that one movie?
Difference is one is still alive. :banghead:
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DB reminds me a little bit, visually, of "the Old Man" on "Pawn Stars":
(http://gearhartchevy.com/dealerimages/Website_4079/GEARHART%20STAFF/Doug%20Bulna.jpg)(http://www.gocheapvegas.com/images/Pawn-Stars-Las-Vegas-the-old-man-228.jpg)
Except the Old Man would have no patience for DainBramaged: "Bulna, you DUmbass, get up in those rafters and bring down the remote!"
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Oh my.
I went over to Skins's island to see if the brain-damaged primitive was hanging around--he wasn't--and bored, I went to read his journal, as I'm getting ready to start posting hippywife Mrs. Alfred Packer returns to the Sandhills some time today, and I wanted some inspiration.
I usually don't bother with primitive journals; they're pretty boring.
But then I found this, from May 3 of this current year:
http://www.democraticunderground.com/~DainBramaged
I just got home a few minutes ago, cops everywhere, the coroner's van parked in the street
My downstairs neighbor, in his 50's, not an educated man, hung himself.
Lost his menial job on the night crew of a supermarket of many years to an argument with his supervisor. Soon after unable to find work, his girlfriend of many years and their daughter left him because he had become abusive and argumentative. After the first year, we noticed he had begun drinking, parking on the sidewalk, talking slurred when we saw him on his deck. The last time I talked to him a couple of months ago, he had said he was out of money and he would have to leave here soon because he couldn't' find a job, a menial job for an uneducated soul. He didn't know how to use a computer, he was amazed at what I do. He went out many mornings, I've seen him nicely dressed in a tie, but I guess he just didn't fit the profile for corporate America.
They must have put the eviction notice on his door today because it wasn't there this morning when I left for work. The only reason they found him was a visit from his sister late this afternoon. A visit to give him some money to help him out. (I talked to her before I sat down to write this tonight).
Another victim of the recession dies alone. No money, no job, no hope. His cry for help unheard.
It just sucks.
Besides the essential question--I thought this sort of thing wasn't going to happen once the Big Zero took over the White House.....more than four and a half years ago--I wonder if the brain-damaged primitive was, without realizing it, foretelling, in a fashion, his own destiny.
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If you go to Google and type Doug Bulna, the first hit is this site.
It is reported at DUmmie FUnnies.
Get DUmmie DainBramaged FIRED For Stealing Cable Box Remote At Work
http://dummiefunnies.blogspot.com/2013/08/get-dummie-dainbramaged-fired-for.html
It is also at FR.
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Oh my.
I went over to Skins's island to see if the brain-damaged primitive was hanging around--he wasn't--and bored, I went to read his journal, as I'm getting ready to start posting hippywife Mrs. Alfred Packer returns to the Sandhills some time today, and I wanted some inspiration.
I usually don't bother with primitive journals; they're pretty boring.
But then I found this, from May 3 of this current year:
http://www.democraticunderground.com/~DainBramaged
Besides the essential question--I thought this sort of thing wasn't going to happen once the Big Zero took over the White House.....more than four and a half years ago--I wonder if the brain-damaged primitive was, without realizing it, foretelling, in a fashion, his own destiny.
What a condescending little prick...
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DB reminds me a little bit, visually, of "the Old Man" on "Pawn Stars":
He also resembles a fat grouchy old walrus.
I dunno why he thinks that makes him look good, unless that's what he wants to look like.
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He also resembles a fat grouchy old walrus.
I dunno why he thinks that makes him look good, unless that's what he wants to look like.
Facial hair like Crazy Doug's is a repulsive self-mutilation like tattoos.
The saving grace is that facial hair can be temporary, if a person regains some minimal self-respect, and isn't necessarily evidence of a losing bout with drugs or alcohol.
In Doug's case it's mental illness.
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There are two things I cannot and will not stand on a man:
1) Sandals
2) Mustaches
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There are two things I cannot and will not stand on a man:
1) Sandals
2) Mustaches
Guess it's a good thing I'm not married to you, then. Me missus likes the way my mustache tickles her, umm...
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Guess it's a good thing I'm not married to you, then. Me missus likes the way my mustache tickles her, umm...
Feet ?
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Feet ?
That's a great way to get kicked in the face in my house.
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If the powers that be at Gearhart Chevrolet really wanted to know about Doug Bulna, AKA Dainbramaged, they would join DU, pay 5 dollars to get a star, then do a search of DB past postings.
It's a real shame that DU ll isn't a viable site anymore. If one could search that site for his prior posting, after reading some of his rants, they would have him forcibly committed.
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If the powers that be at Gearhart Chevrolet really wanted to know about Doug Bulna, AKA Dainbramaged, they would join DU, pay 5 dollars to get a star, then do a search of DB past postings.
It's a real shame that DU ll isn't a viable site anymore. If one could search that site for his prior posting, after reading some of his rants, they would have him forcibly committed.
They don't need to do that at all. Frank has done all the hard work for them, and they can see all the best of Dain Bramaged right here at http://www.conservativecave.com/index.php/topic,82728.0.html
and its FREE. No need to be come a member of CC or to pay DU $5 bucks.
and for you guys at Gearheart...every quote is linked to the original DU post, so you know we are not making this up or misquoting.
Frank is a great guy and he's gone out of his way to save us all long hours of searching.
Hi5 to Frank! Thanks for going the extra mile.
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Those are some great Doug Bulna highlights.
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Well...it's been a little over a week now. Tomorrow will be the second Monday and still no official word.
C'mon Dougie. You can run but you cannot hide.
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After all this time, Doug Bulna should have showed his walrus-like mug at the DUmp.
I sure hope he's okay.
No, not really.
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I am surprised no one has called the place and asked for him. :popcorn:
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I am surprised no one has called the place and asked for him. :popcorn:
Well...
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Well...
:therock:
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There are two things I cannot and will not stand on a man:
1) Sandals
2) Mustaches
Love my husband's mustache. Never seen him without it. It's part of who he is.
Cindie
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I don't think Doug Bulna has ever been absent from the goggy and kitteh forum this long.
Tomorrow will make a week.
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Love my husband's mustache. Never seen him without it. It's part of who he is.
Cindie
My husband shaved his off and I kept asking him if he had just got a hair cut. I couldn't figure out what was different.
:rotf:
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I don't think Doug Bulna has ever been absent from the goggy and kitteh forum this long.
Tomorrow will make a week.
You know, he is (was) good chums with the cbayer primitive and Skippy from New York City.
I'm sure they know what happened, but for some reason are withholding the information from their fellow primitives.
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You know, he is (was) good chums with the cbayer primitive and Skippy from New York City.
I'm sure they know what happened, but for some reason are withholding the information from their fellow primitives.
I'm beginning to suspect his absence from the DUmp is a condition of his continued employment. He is addicted to posting there and, I think it would be something major to make him stop. Or he could be dead.
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I'm sure they know what happened, but for some reason are withholding the information from their fellow primitives.
What we have here is a failure to communicate.
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I'm beginning to suspect his absence from the DUmp is a condition of his continued employment. He is addicted to posting there and, I think it would be something major to make him stop. Or he could be dead.
One of those is a remote possibility.
The other one's more likely.
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(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/db2_zps592f02d0.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/db2_zps592f02d0.jpg.html)
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(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/db2_zps592f02d0.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/db2_zps592f02d0.jpg.html)
The images are a hoot!
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(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/db2_zps592f02d0.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/db2_zps592f02d0.jpg.html)
Oh my.
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(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/db3_zps6ad114bf.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/db3_zps6ad114bf.jpg.html)
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(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/db4_zpsc0c816e0.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/db4_zpsc0c816e0.jpg.html)
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Doug is building himself quite a footprint in cyberspace, isn't he?
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Doug is building himself quite a footprint in cyberspace, isn't he?
More like a brown skidmark.
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I really wonder if Doug had a 'puter at home or if he just used the one at work. If so, being unemployed, he may have a tough time getting to the inter webz. Head to the library Doug they have 'puters there. You may have to push the other loafing DUmmies off but you should be able to get a turn eventually. Helpful Hint: Take hand sanitizer and a Kleenex with you in case some of your mates leave the keyboards gooey. :whistling:
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I love how GOBUCKS' avatar shows up in every one of those Doug Bulna searches.
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I love how GOBUCKS' avatar shows up in every one of those Doug Bulna searches.
Well, I hope the brain-damaged primitive takes this message to heart, before he shoots off his mouth again, about decent and civilized people being nobodies.
We ain't nobodies, and it would be good for the primitives to remember that.
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I'm beginning to suspect his absence from the DUmp is a condition of his continued employment.
Nah. He would get a sock puppet and rub his survival in our faces. He's an IT guy after all, his employers would never know unless he told them.
He is addicted to posting there and,
YES!
I think it would be something major to make him stop.
Like getting fired? HEY DOUG ARE YOU FIRED? PM me DB, I can keep a secret.
Or he could be dead.
Nah. My seances have come up empty except for NNNNNNNNH something.
:yahoo: <-- Mr Mannn Dougie-poo--> :bawl:
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We ain't nobodies
Whoa! That sounds like The Reverend Jackson.
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Has he not even logged in? :popcorn:
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What we have here is a failure to communicate.
Excellent quote from one of my all time favorite movies !
I suspect you know which one, does anyone else without looking it up ?
Also excellent correlation to the OP !
edit add
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Excellent quote from one of my all time favorite movies !
I suspect you know which one, does anyone else without looking it up ?
Also excellent correlation to the OP !
edit add
Cool quote indeed.
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Cool quote indeed.
Nice clue in the reply. Clever, very clever.
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Excellent quote from one of my all time favorite movies !
I suspect you know which one, does anyone else without looking it up ?
Also excellent correlation to the OP !
edit add
Ooooh. Pick me. Pick me. It's "Civil War" by Guns N Roses.
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Excellent quote from one of my all time favorite movies !
I suspect you know which one, does anyone else without looking it up ?
Also excellent correlation to the OP !
edit add
I boiled up a big batch of eggs yesterday. I loves me some boiled eggs for a snack.
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I boiled up a big batch of eggs yesterday. I loves me some boiled eggs for a snack.
4+ dozen ain't a snack.
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I boiled up a big batch of eggs yesterday. I loves me some boiled eggs for a snack.
Trying out for a remake of "Cool Hand Luke"? :-)
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This morning's nadin results:
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/db5_zps11081684.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/db5_zps11081684.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/db6_zps9ea37318.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/db6_zps9ea37318.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/db7_zps17044d3d.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/db7_zps17044d3d.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/db8_zpsc21b6fd9.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/db8_zpsc21b6fd9.jpg.html)
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:rotf: The google images are hilarious, the way our avatars are showing up, and :fuelfire: that little guy. Snugs is on there, too. :lmao:
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Doug Bulna is quite infamous. I wonder if Gearhart Chevrolet has typed his name up on Google.
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Doug Bulna is quite infamous. I wonder if Gearhart Chevrolet has typed his name up on Google.
Not likely. According to Doug they're too stupid to do anything like that. He'd have to show them how.
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To answer the OP question: YES, Gearheart knows. A call was made. he is fired. Let the celebrations begin!
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To answer the OP question: YES, Gearheart knows. A call was made. he is fired. Let the celebrations begin!
That is great news.
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To answer the OP question: YES, Gearheart knows. A call was made. he is fired. Let the celebrations begin!
DainBramaged brought it onto himself. What a DUmmy! :mental: :lmao: :rotf:
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This is great news!
There is a lesson here for the DUmmies to learn but it's learning that fire is hot. Let them touch the flame.
I want to to beat it into their skull with a spiked club every chance we get.
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FWIW, here is the cached Gearhart page that includes his picture as part of the team:
Dougie's Gearhart Page (http://www.zoominfo.com/CachedPage/?archive_id=0&page_id=6601190907&page_url=//gearhartchevy.com/custom/Meet-our-Sales-Team/&page_last_updated=2013-07-13T22:07:05&firstName=Doug&lastName=Bulna)
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To answer the OP question: YES, Gearheart knows. A call was made. he is fired. Let the celebrations begin!
DUmmies....
...Can you hear me now?
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Online guest numbers are surging so the word is getting out.
O-)
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Great time to send your IT resume to Gearhart! Wouldn't it be a hoot if a CC'er could take over that job.
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To answer the OP question: YES, Gearheart knows. A call was made. he is fired. Let the celebrations begin!
:nelson:
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To answer the OP question: YES, Gearheart knows. A call was made. he is fired. Let the celebrations begin!
I had to come back and read it again. Sounds just as sweet the second time.
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The start of the football season and a DUmbass getting a dose of what reality is...how can one not smile. :-)
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He's one lucky dude.....according to a news story the other day, the recession ended in 2009 and Obama has made millions of new jobs..
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I am thinking he should polish up his thumb and aim for Tuscon. :cheersmate:
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I am thinking he should polish up his thumb and aim for Tuscon. :cheersmate:
Maybe Raven will let him crash on her couch.
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Maybe Raven will let him crash on her couch.
As a renter, how long will he be able to afford to live in the rich district?
I feel the Dougie will so be able to relate to all of the DUmmies that claim to live in the ghetto, surrounded by high crime. Dougie is vehemently anti gun. I suspect that his attitude might change when he has to live among the sewer rats. As the old saying goes, a liberal is someone that hasn't been mugged yet.
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Maybe he can run for city council so we can create www.electdougbulna.com page...
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Maybe he can run for city council so we can create www.electdougbulna.com page...
Deing a democrat in a deep red district, the outcome would be the same.
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I think dear sweet doug, is job hunting right now. :-)
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Maybe someone could go by his house or call him up to console him.
http://wp.superpages.com/people/D-Bulna/Denville-NJ
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Maybe someone could go by his house or call him up to console him.
http://wp.superpages.com/people/D-Bulna/Denville-NJ
No
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Yo, DUMMIES!!!!
[youtube=425,350]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVzvRsl4rEM[/youtube]
How you like me now?
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Great vid sparky, sent a tingle down my leg!
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I'm surprised that Doug hasn't shown up at the DUmp. After being wallduded, there's no one he needs to conceal his lunacy from.
There's little likelihood of another job even close to the one he destroyed. He's established such an internet presence as an employer-sabotaging nutcase no one who looks will be able to miss it.
Both cali and the eponymous walldude came back to the DUmp to describe their downfalls with all the gory details. Cali even put up a long, hilarious my-bad apology, hoping the snobby tea barons would take her back. Maybe they would have, had she not smashed her leg in a drunken fall and then become a pain-pill addict.
DUmmy Raven never admitted her wallduding. After her DUmp rant about the ignorant Christian fundies who run the Rindge, NH city government was received by council members, there was a terse notice in the next council meeting minutes. They held a closed meeting on a personnel matter, then issued a notice that council had hired the chick who had been Raven's assistant to her Planning job. They did not even mention Jane Pitt's name. It was beautiful.
Doug will return to the DUmp.
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I'm surprised that Doug hasn't shown up at the DUmp. After being wallduded, there's no one he needs to conceal his lunacy from.
There's little likelihood of another job even close to the one he destroyed. He's established such an internet presence as an employer-sabotaging nutcase no one who looks will be able to miss it.
Both cali and the eponymous walldude came back to the DUmp to describe their downfalls with all the gory details. Cali even put up a long, hilarious my-bad apology, hoping the snobby tea barons would take her back. Maybe they would have, had she not smashed her leg in a drunken fall and then become a pain-pill addict.
DUmmy Raven never admitted her wallduding. After her DUmp rant about the ignorant Christian fundies who run the Rindge, NH city government was received by council members, there was a terse notice in the next council meeting minutes. They held a closed meeting on a personnel matter, then issued a notice that council had hired the chick who had been Raven's assistant to her Planning job. They did not even mention Jane Pitt's name. It was beautiful.
Doug will return to the DUmp.
But will / has Skinner put him in the Dummy protection program (new nom de plume) ?
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To answer the OP question: YES, Gearheart knows. A call was made. he is fired. Let the celebrations begin!
He should count his blessings. Had he not been fired, he definitely wouldn't have liked what was coming down the pike for him next.
However, if he shows back up on the island either as DB or under a new name, and starts shooting off his stupid mouth, all bets are off. You hear me, Doug?
.
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But will / has Skinner put him in the Dummy protection program (new nom de plume) ?
He's way too DUmb to change his style.
He'd be almost as easy to spot as Pam Dawson or TiTtyboy when they returned under new names.
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Benghazi!
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Benghazi!
What difference does it make that 4 great Americans are dead, and the administration responsible is not held accountable ?
DB better find a 1%er to give him a job. 1%ers can come in real handy to libs, so they should be wary of killing the goose who laid the golden egg.
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Dougie got out-Foxed.
- - - - - - - - - -
The shut-down Fox jumped over the lousy Doug.
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I know that the lyrics don't match, but . . .
[youtube=425,350]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHQLQ1Rc_Js[/youtube]
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DUmmy Raven never admitted her wallduding. After her DUmp rant about the ignorant Christian fundies who run the Rindge, NH city government was received by council members, there was a terse notice in the next council meeting minutes. They held a closed meeting on a personnel matter, then issued a notice that council had hired the chick who had been Raven's assistant to her Planning job. They did not even mention Jane Pitt's name. It was beautiful.
Crazy...Did that really happen? Rindge is about 45 minutes from me in western NH. My GF's parents live there. It's a quiet, rural town full of good folk. Quite pretty, I might add; it's in the shadow of the Monadnock Mountains.
I can't believe Will Pitt's lunatic mother was ever involved in politics there. It's about as conservative as you can get. Most of rural NH is.
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Crazy...Did that really happen? Rindge is about 45 minutes from me in western NH. My GF's parents live there. It's a quiet, rural town full of good folk. Quite pretty, I might add; it's in the shadow of the Monadnock Mountains.
I can't believe Will Pitt's lunatic mother was ever involved in politics there. It's about as conservative as you can get. Most of rural NH is.
She was city attorney, or something like that, for Rindge.
Obviously she moved up there to escape the high crime, the congestion, the corruption, the squalidity, of her native state. She voted to make it thus, and should've stayed there, instead of going up to soil a clean pristine place.
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Obviously she moved up there to escape the high crime, the congestion, the corruption, the squalidity, of her native state. She voted to make it thus, and should've stayed there, instead of going up to soil a clean pristine place.
We have that problem throughout NH. This once pristine red state in a sea of blue has turned a nasty blue.
Massachusetts, Maine, and Vermont liberals have swarmed over our borders and infected our state. Especially in southern NH, where the Stalinists from the effete suburbs of Boston have migrated north to escape high taxes and overbearing social programs, only to get themselves elected to local town councils where they promptly institute high taxes and overbearing social programs.
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Some lessons from this that the DUmmies should learn but will not because they are DUmmies.
1. Do not bad mouth your employer on the internet.
2. Do not bad mouth any other persons employer on the internet either.
3. Do not hide equipment owned by your employer to make cheap political statements.
4. Do not make cheap political statements (or loud ones) at work. Work while at work, that is what they are paying you for.
5. Do not spend all day hanging out on lefty websites.
6. Do not go into work looking like you should be in a folk band. Get a haircut and trim the facial hair. The male DUmmies should do that too.
I am sure there are others but those are the ones that seem to be the most obvious.
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To me, the most egregious thing he did was to say "I'm SYSADMIN so I can tell them whatever I want." As an employer, that would have started clanging bells in my head.
The second was the attitude that Fox playing on the TV was giving him a "hostile work environment," therefore he was entitled to sabatoge the equipment. The fact that the TV is there for the customer base, who by all accounts tend conservative, didn't even occur to him.
What really pissed me off was his saying "Benghazi!" over and over again, followed by the :rotf: ugly icon they have over there, the one with the kicking leg.
Doug Bulna got fired! :lmao:
Doug Bulna got fired! :rofl:
Doug Bulna got fired! :rotf:
Doug Bulna got fired! :lol:
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I still believe that the local police should walk around Dougie's neighborhood using a rotting corpse detecting Dog.
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Oh and remember this?
Response to DainBramaged (Original post)
Wed Aug 21, 2013, 09:16 PM
CaliforniaPeggy (105,725 posts)
1. That was an excellent move, my dear DainBramaged!
Followed by an icon holding a "You Rock" sign.
And you DUmmies wonder why we think you're dumb as shit? This self-destructive little stunt was an "excellent move," according to you idiots.
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If your move was designed to get you fired so you could sit home on your fat arse, then yep...it was a good move.
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Crazy...Did that really happen? Rindge is about 45 minutes from me in western NH. My GF's parents live there. It's a quiet, rural town full of good folk. Quite pretty, I might add; it's in the shadow of the Monadnock Mountains.
I can't believe Will Pitt's lunatic mother was ever involved in politics there. It's about as conservative as you can get. Most of rural NH is.
Most of the towns along the CT river and up in the North Country have gone blue, along with most of the Seacoast region. Flatlanders filling over from VT and Maine, and retirees going, "Gimme mah free shit!"
And add to the mix the fact Rindge is a college town with very high unemployment, and yeah, you get the picture.
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We have that problem throughout NH. This once pristine red state in a sea of blue has turned a nasty blue.
Massachusetts, Maine, and Vermont liberals have swarmed over our borders and infected our state. Especially in southern NH, where the Stalinists from the effete suburbs of Boston have migrated north to escape high taxes and overbearing social programs, only to get themselves elected to local town councils where they promptly institute high taxes and overbearing social programs.
I won't even go to Manchester anymore if I can possibly avoid it. Yeah, it's gotten that bad.
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To answer the OP question: YES, Gearheart knows. A call was made. he is fired. Let the celebrations begin!
Actions, meet consequences...
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If your move was designed to get you fired so you could sit home on your fat arse, then yep...it was a good move.
He'll be fine. 99 weeks of unemployment. Oh wait, can you get unemployment if your fired? :popcorn:
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He'll be fine. 99 weeks of unemployment. Oh wait, can you get unemployment if your fired? :popcorn:
Yes, in most states. I fired a fellow back in the 70's and he drew unemployment for the max time allowed back then, 61 weeks. We had a democrat president then too that thought he could win reelection if he bought enough votes with my tax dollars.
S.C. used to penalize you 5 weeks for getting fired.
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I won't even go to Manchester anymore if I can possibly avoid it. Yeah, it's gotten that bad.
Hang on in there Sparky Rochester is next. Gangs moving in, not the Adult crazies but the kids 12-21.
I blame it on the courts that that do not kick butt and have relationships with by marriage or old time friends from the country club , old school ties, or a Lodge they belong to.
These kids get off easy and expect family and friends to keep them secure in what ever they do, drugs, any kind of crap they want to pull.
We of the old time family's know when a totally nutty kid or adult is being protected by the Town fathers and the police, the courts and Their victims are branded as in some way responsible for all this.
Had a 80 year old woman attacked in her home. Attacker was 17, climbed in through a cellar window unlocked. Woman was raped and robbed. Horror but to my surprise as the senior community found her at fault for not securing her home. The fact that the boy was the son of the social worker that decided what kind of care the Seniors could receive never Came into this.
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He'll be fine. 99 weeks of unemployment. Oh wait, can you get unemployment if your fired? :popcorn:
Sadly, in Jersey, yes, you can.
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Crazy...Did that really happen? Rindge is about 45 minutes from me in western NH. My GF's parents live there. It's a quiet, rural town full of good folk. Quite pretty, I might add; it's in the shadow of the Monadnock Mountains.
I can't believe Will Pitt's lunatic mother was ever involved in politics there. It's about as conservative as you can get. Most of rural NH is.
Yes, it happened, just as described. The drunken Pitt's humiliated mother, Jane, was listed as the town's Planning Director before her intemperate, probably alcohol-fueled, rant at the DUmp. In this case, the tree doesn't fall far from the apple. Her wallduding was very obvious, but handled quietly by the council.
I'm sure Rindge is in a very beautiful area, but it appears to be infested with Massholes. It's just a village of 5000 or so, but with enough city employees to run Syracuse. Nearly everyone works for everyone else - except for the drunken Pitt's drunken mother.
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Sadly, in Jersey, yes, you can.
I think Calif. might be tougher. It has a "through no fault of your own" clause.
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To answer the OP question: YES, Gearheart knows. A call was made. he is fired. Let the celebrations begin!
(http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y120/WEarp/BaghdadB0B.gif) (http://s4.photobucket.com/user/WEarp/media/BaghdadB0B.gif.html)
This is a LIE. Doug is just fine ... as a matter of fact, I have it on good authority that he's been promoted for this courageous act against the imperialist Fox News.
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Sadly, in Jersey, yes, you can.
Perhaps not always.
http://www.ehow.com/info_8287103_can-am-fired-new-jersey.html
Fault
Benefits in New Jersey aren't available to people who were fired for misconduct or performance-related issues. People who were fired for reasons unrelated to their performance, however, are eligible for benefits. So, for example, if a person was fired because the company for which he worked chose to downsize and restructure, then he is likely eligible. However, if he was fired for negligence, he isn't eligible.
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Re DUmmy Raven's 2011 wallduding in Rindge, here's an article about the woman who replaced her, then was replaced, probably due to her close association with Pitt's mother. There's just a mention of DUmmy Raven's "resignation".
http://www.ledgertranscript.com/home/2929579-95/planning-payson-rindge-director
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His lack of posting tells me he probably wasted time on DU from work constantly. That probably did him in as quickly as anything. All this other didn't help, but it probably gave the owner(s) the ammo they needed to pull the trigger.
.
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His lack of posting tells me he probably wasted time on DU from work constantly. That probably did him in as quickly as anything. All this other didn't help, but it probably gave the owner(s) the ammo they needed to pull the trigger.
I'm worried about tweak. Who is going to feed him?
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His lack of posting tells me he probably wasted time on DU from work constantly. That probably did him in as quickly as anything. All this other didn't help, but it probably gave the owner(s) the ammo they needed to pull the trigger.
.
Agreed...Something tells me the long haired gastropod was on thin ice as it was, with the amount of posting he was doing at the DUmp.
His boss was probably elated this happened--gave her an excuse to shitcan him for misconduct and not have to shell out for UI benefits.
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His lack of posting tells me he probably wasted time on DU from work constantly. That probably did him in as quickly as anything. All this other didn't help, but it probably gave the owner(s) the ammo they needed to pull the trigger.
.
When I was still working, EDS had the ability to monitor and give a printed report of every key stroke that I made on my work computer. They knew when I accessed something that wasn't work related.
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When I was still working, EDS had the ability to monitor and give a printed report of every key stroke that I made on my work computer. They knew when I accessed something that wasn't work related.
Exactly. So here's our good buddy Doug Bulna looking for his next job:
http://www.dilbert.com/strips/comic/2013-09-05/
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Exactly. So here's our good buddy Doug Bulna looking for his next job:
http://www.dilbert.com/strips/comic/2013-09-05/
That's funny.
I had that same thought a few days ago. For Dougie, life as he knew it, is over. No more IT positions for him. He could never use Gearhart Chevrolet as a reference.
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That's funny.
I had that same thought a few days ago. For Dougie, life as he knew it, is over. No more IT positions for him. He could never use Gearhart Chevrolet as a reference.
"Would you like fries with that, sir?"
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Well, I've always believed myself to be a candidate for the second-nicest guy one could ever hope to meet, yet I'm ever thankful for the ability to put vestanumbers on "ignore", along with all the long, boring, annoying sig lines people feel compelled to post.
There shouldn't be a penalty for protecting your sanity.
And I was joking about my concern for Crazy Doug's career.
Man after my own heart Gobie! I've handed the Brainless primitive his ass on several occasions when we could lure him over here to a Free Speech arena. He couldn't hold his ass off the floor with both hands!
I'd like to crap down his neck after I pulled his head off. The guy's a complete waste of human tissue.
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Exactly. So here's our good buddy Doug Bulna looking for his next job:
http://www.dilbert.com/strips/comic/2013-09-05/
:lmao: :lol:
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Life is good! Another DUmbass bites the dust. Brain****edUp deserved everything he got.
There is a God, I dare DainBramaged to dispute it! Oh sure, he'll call it karma, but it amounts to gettin' what ya pay for!
I shall retire tonight and slumber in peace with his all enveloping security.
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He's in the goggie forum, but since the wallduding episode he hasn't written a word. His pet posts are just kpetes.
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I must say this is probably one of the most entertaining threads in the Dumpster. :-)
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I must say this is probably one of the most entertaining threads in the Dumpster. :-)
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Oh yes it is. Nothing better than a dummie getting hung by a rope of his own weaving. :cheersmate: :cheersmate:
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Oh yes it is. Nothing better than a dummie getting hung by a rope of his own weaving. :cheersmate: :cheersmate:
That's racist. [DUmmy mode off]
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This evening's current google page:
(http://i949.photobucket.com/albums/ad335/photoatcc/dainbramaged/doug001_zps158db27b.jpg) (http://s949.photobucket.com/user/photoatcc/media/dainbramaged/doug001_zps158db27b.jpg.html)
(http://i949.photobucket.com/albums/ad335/photoatcc/dainbramaged/doug002_zps226be1a0.jpg) (http://s949.photobucket.com/user/photoatcc/media/dainbramaged/doug002_zps226be1a0.jpg.html)
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Doug's had a bad two weeks.
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Doug's had a bad two weeks.
His future isn't looking very bright either.
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He turned the lights out on hisself.
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Doug's had a bad two weeks.
Oh now, it could be worse, much worse.
He could've lost his job during the Bush presidency, the worst economy since the Dark Ages.
But he lost it when 0bomba's in the White House and all's well with the world; full employment, no inflation, good wages, and employers begging people to work for them.
I think the brain-damaged primitive did himself a favor, getting knocked out of a rut, with the opportunity to move up and faster, given how good things are going in the country right now.
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I enjoy going to Doug's Google Images page and seeing our avatars. Both Gina and Frank are on there now. Where is mine?? :rant:
There's also two gay guys pillow-talking there.
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Like Walldude and Cali, his worst nightmare has come true: Dainbramaged lives forever in Freeper History.
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Like Walldude and Cali, his worst nightmare has come true: Dainbramaged lives forever in Freeper History.
It's kind of sad that poor stupid Doug Bulna has suffered a terrible personal tragedy due entirely to his association with the DUmp, yet the DUmpmonkeys haven't spent even a single word in sympathy.
No, it's not sad at all. It's funnier than hell any time a DUmmy suffers.
Whether it's financial, emotional, or physical, there's nothing more enjoyable than DUmmy pain.
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Here's healing white light for Doug....oooops...I forgot.....to much light was his downfall.
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Still haven't seen anyone at the DUmp wondering about poor stupid Doug.
Every DUmmy knows if it could happen to Doug Bulna, it could happen to him.
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Still haven't seen anyone at the DUmp wondering about poor stupid Doug.
Every DUmmy knows if it could happen to Doug Bulna, it could happen to him.
I'm still of the speculation that the primitives long ago forgot who the brain-damaged primitive was.
Although it does surprise me that his two best chums on Skins's island, the cbayer primitive and Skippy from New York City too seem to have forgotten that he once was; I figured they at least had longer-term memories.
The classic case of primitive poor memory-retention was poor stupid Beth eight and a half years ago, during the scam that rocked the internet. She lit a campfire telling about how one of her best buds, one of her closest friends, had been harassed by law-enforcement in Seattle.
As the story developed over the course of that afternoon, her "best friend" had been arrested for election fraud in Seattle, and it looked an air-tight case.
At the end of that campfire, which was only a moderately-long one, not a real long one, poor stupid Beth was asking, "Who is she? I don't know her, never heard of her?"
I think the CalPig primitive needs to think about this too; if it can happen to the brain-damaged primitive, it can happen to her. Once she keels over, the primitives'll forget, within five or ten minutes, who she was.
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DoUg and Mike Pantano have been good buds in the goggy forum.
Not a word from Mike, either.
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Gearhart Chevrolet will end up being a tourist stop for conservatives everywhere.
They will make a fortune off the T Shirt sales.
"We Found The Remote But Lost Doug Bulna"
The marketing ideas are huge! They can even sell little remote controls with their logo on them!
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DoUg and Mike Pantano have been good buds in the goggy forum.
Not a word from Mike, either.
I think the wife-abandoning sparkling old dude's preoccupied with a certain, uh, domestic matter.
I hope it leaks out in time enough for the Top DUmmies of 2013 balloting, as I'd hate to see him slip out of the top ten. He's our perennial top DUmmie, and a joy for franksolich to write about.
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Gearhart Chevrolet will end up being a tourist stop for conservatives everywhere.
They will make a fortune off the T Shirt sales.
"We Found The Remote But Lost Doug Bulna"
The marketing ideas are huge! They can even sell little remote controls with their logo on them!
Awesome.
That is good.
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Awesome.
That is good.
It all comes out that liberals will regardless of their race Shuck and Jive their ass off to get a free ride.
Why not look at the family that raised an strange or odd to your family baby to become a thug ??? Any one who hangs out at a court house in any town knows that case after case in any court has family members all crying for leniency for the Defendants for any number of reasons.
Kid had a hard upbringing, so this is the reason they harm others ? Argggggg, when a mother pleads for a child's life as they took others lives, why on earth does the Judge not put the upbringing on the Mom, the Dad the extended family that ignored the child's behavior. ???
So we have kids that we cannot control, headed into a life style that will destroy them and others.
What to do, I have no problem with the wood shed treatment, no problem with locking the girls in their bedrooms at night.
No problems with running off the craze's with their faces full of piercings, so the girls cry all night
Screw all this, parents Know when the kids join a gang, parents know when their kids are breaking the law.
Parents are responsible for their kids until the kids become adult. Why are the parents able to just walk away from their one responsibility's and beg a judge to not consider it was their fault they were rotten parents.
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Awesome.
That is good.
:-)
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Well, here it is, day whatever, in the saga of the brain-damaged primitive, and he still hasn't shown his face on Skins's island to explain and apologize. He's made a couple of quick-in-quick-out posts in an obscure forum, but that only tells the primitives that he still lives, nothing more.
The longer the brain-damaged primitive delays in explaining and apologizing, the harder it's going to be for him.
I'm sure everybody here in the DUmpster understands this; why it's important to immediately explain and apologize after making a gaffe, because I'm sure everybody here in the DUmpster has at one time or another shot off his or her mouth, and got into trouble for it. We're human, after all.
And the sooner we explained and apologized, the quicker the gaffe was forgotten.
<<<was once fired for shooting off mouth (actually not my mouth, but my pen)--it was a very long time ago, though--and even though the situation was irreversible, still explained and apologized. Immediately.
<<<subsequently got nothing but stellar references from the employer.
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I doubt Doug will be getting any stellar references.
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I doubt Doug will be getting any stellar references.
Most certainly not, if he hasn't gone back there by now to abjectly apologize to the owners and employees there, for having been such a rectal aperture to them.
He could've saved the situation--not his job, but a good reference--as late as the day after Labor Day, but that's long past and gone.
This is the difference between decent and civilized people, and primitives; when we make a mistake, we own up to it and make amends. When a primitive makes a mistake, a primitive runs and hides.
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I'm beginning to wonder if Dain will soon be joining the very short list of Abbandonato primitives.
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I'm beginning to wonder if Dain will soon be joining the very short list of Abbandonato primitives.
Yeah. There's only ever been one of those, but I forget her name.
She was the first wife of the sniffing primitive, who dumped her for some fat broad.
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Yeah. There's only ever been one of those, but I forget her name.
She was the first wife of the sniffing primitive, who dumped her for some fat broad.
Was that bi-baby?
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Was that bi-baby?
Yeah.
BicentennialBoobs; her.
Talk about trading down; the sniffing primitive's original wife was much better-looking. And thinner.
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Most certainly not, if he hasn't gone back there by now to abjectly apologize to the owners and employees there, for having been such a rectal aperture to them.
He could've saved the situation--not his job, but a good reference--as late as the day after Labor Day, but that's long past and gone.
This is the difference between decent and civilized people, and primitives; when we make a mistake, we own up to it and make amends. When a primitive makes a mistake, a primitive runs and hides.
I doubt it would have done any good. No one has ever gone crawling back with a more humiliating plea for mercy than the hateful, earwigged and wallduded cali. She ended up a drunkard, fell and smashed her leg, then descended into opiate addiction. It was a beautiful thing to watch.
http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=view_all&address=439x1570297
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It was a beautiful thing to watch.
But still, one has to admire the bitter old Vermontese cali primitive for having made a clean breast of things, and only a day after.
In the meantime, we have this Bozo cowering in a dark corner; it's been ten days since he should've told the primitives what happened, and not a peep.
I'm sure by now even the primitives--the hazlf a dozen or so who might, vaguely, remember him--are getting the impression the brain-damaged primitive's a craven coward.
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Well, the consequences of the brain-damaged primitive not explaining what happened:
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/db09-13_zpsb998a062.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/db09-13_zpsb998a062.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/db09-13-2_zpse9804573.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/db09-13-2_zpse9804573.jpg.html)
Now, if he would've gone on to Skins's island nine days ago and explained and apologized, this whole kerfluffle would've been long forgotten by now, and buried in the deep back pages of google.
It's his own damned fault.
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Frank, how do we know Doug was in fact fired ? Having access to all the computers at work he may have come across some things both personal or business related that he could use to bargin a pay out to retire or take a leave of absence with pay.
This Doug reminds me of a piece of work, I knew years ago. He was much like Doug and was more involved with gossip then his job. He was so looking for acknowledgement he would often brag about some unethical things he got away with. He was the one that would slide up to people and whisper some nasty gossip just to make you think he was in the KNOW--the in crowd.
Finally he got caught by a new employee telling him some gossip not knowing the new guy was a relative of the person he was gossiping about. He soon found himself on the carpet and threatened to tell his boss's wife about some hankie pankey he had been up to.
He was gone in just hours, but we found out he had been transferred to a sister company out of state.
I think of Doug as that Newman the mail man on Seinfeld.
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Frank, how do we know Doug was in fact fired ? Having access to all the computers at work he may have come across some things both personal or business related that he could use to bargin a pay out to retire or take a leave of absence with pay.
This Doug reminds me of a piece of work, I knew years ago. He was much like Doug and was more involved with gossip then his job. He was so looking for acknowledgement he would often brag about some unethical things he got away with. He was the one that would slide up to people and whisper some nasty gossip just to make you think he was in the KNOW--the in crowd.
Finally he got caught by a new employee telling him some gossip not knowing the new guy was a relative of the person he was gossiping about. He soon found himself on the carpet and threatened to tell his boss's wife about some hankie pankey he had been up to.
He was gone in just hours, but we found out he had been transferred to a sister company out of state.
I think of Doug as that Newman the mail man on Seinfeld.
And you're giving DUmbass Doug Bulna wayyyyy to much credit, vesta. He has neither the personality nor the balls to pull something like that off.
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DB has some interesting history.
http://trademarks.breanlaw.com/78325173-jizz.html
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And you're giving DUmbass Doug Bulna wayyyyy to much credit, vesta. He has neither the personality nor the balls to pull something like that off.
Oh Yeah, well some people fool yah. If a man can fool his wife, he sure can fool the public.
Who was that man that ran for president a few years ago--the man that reminded me of the Pardue guy ? He came out with a statement that killed all his chances for the Presidency-----He claimed he would never hire or trust a man that their wife could not trust.
He was a room clearer, only two gay guys left and most to the news men left. Lot's of woman left wondering why their husbands that supported him had run for the hills.
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Google Image search is giving some love to Doug as well..
(http://i554.photobucket.com/albums/jj434/GOPCongress/google_imge_zps5fc2abda.jpg)
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I don't think that Doug Bulna was fired. I think that he was forced to retire. End results are the same.
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I don't think that Doug Bulna was fired. I think that he was forced to retire. End results are the same.
Other than he would still be eligible for unemployment.
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Other than he would still be eligible for unemployment.
I wouldn't think so. His pension is still earned income.
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Oh Yeah, well some people fool yah. If a man can fool his wife, he sure can fool the public.
Maybe you, vesta, but I have raised too many teenage boys than to think Doug Bulna is that clever or motivated.
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DB has some interesting history.
http://trademarks.breanlaw.com/78325173-jizz.html
What can you say? Apparently, Bulna likes jizz.
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What can you say? Apparently, Bulna likes jizz.
Not only that....
Status/Status Date:
ABANDONMENT NOTICE MAILED - FAILURE TO RESPOND
01/25/2005
Way to go, Dougiepoo.
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Other than he would still be eligible for unemployment.
It's difficult to get unemployment if you are fired, especially if the reason is for theft. They could of been nice guys and just laid him off.
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Well, here it is, Day 10 of the brain-damaged primitive Watch.
Actually, it was fifteen days ago that he posted those nasty comments about his employer and coworkers, and about "freepers," but that was just before the Labor Day holiday, and walrus-face wasn't at work.
And so the brain-damaged primitive Watch is dated from the following Tuesday, the day after Labor Day, when ostensibly he went to work and learned that "freepers" aren't as stupid and insignificant as he said we were.
So....it's Day 10, and no explanations, no apologies.
<<<has much longer staying-power than the brain-damaged primitive; will wait.
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We have to multi-task around here a little bit.
Along with worrying about Doug's future as a sysadmin, there is the deep concern for the marital bliss of Mike Pantano and Sparkly Monica.
Has Monica decided the time has come to cash in?
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We have to multi-task around here a little bit.
Along with worrying about Doug's future as a sysadmin, there is the deep concern for the marital bliss of Mike Pantano and Sparkly Monica.
Has Monica decided the time has come to cash in?
Yeah, talk about having only two hands when there's enough work for a dozen pairs of hands.
The sparkling old dude's been missing a lot from Skins's island; in fact, for all we know, his airhead trophy wife probably kicked him to the curb, and he's living in a car now.
What goes around, comes around; I don't suppose the sparkling old dude was thinking of that when he so unceremoniously dumped his first wife because she was getting old and stout.
-
There must be a time-delay when something's posted and google picks it up; I dunno how long it might be.
Anyway, walrus-faced posted in the pets forum on Skins's island Saturday, circa 1:00 a.m.
http://www.democraticunderground.com/116113192
Just a cute-and-paste job, no comments.
<<<can keep this going longer than the brain-damaged primitive can.
-
I'm beginning to wonder if Dain will soon be joining the very short list of Abbandonato primitives.
You know, that is finally looking as if it's happening.
The primitives continue to frolic and play, with not a thought to the brain-damaged one.
-
Sun Sep 15, 2013, 12:11 PM
malaise (110,071 posts)
Colorado DUers please check in and tell us if you and yours are OK
This is crazy.
There have been no Colorado DUmmies worth worrying about since bobolink froze to death in her car.
Why is there no concern for prominent DUmbasses who have disappeared and could be dying or in critical need of DUAC assistance?
Why is no one asking about Pam Dawson, or Mike Pantano, or Doug Bulna?
What about mythsaje and TwixVoy and poor stupid Beth?
The bastards just don't care about DUmmies who made the DUmp what it is.
-
This is crazy.
There have been no Colorado DUmmies worth worrying about since bobolink froze to death in her car.
Why is there no concern for prominent DUmbasses who have disappeared and could be dying or in critical need of DUAC assistance?
Why is no one asking about Pam Dawson, or Mike Pantano, or Doug Bulna? What about mythsaje and TwixVoy and poor stupid Beth?
The bastards just don't care about DUmmies who made the DUmp what it is.
Yeah, they don't make primitives like they used to, and the brain-damaged primitive was one of the original primitives.
Anyway.
I imagine this morning, a nice Monday morning in autumn, the brain-damaged primitive is laying in bed, feeling sorry for himself. After all, it doesn't look good--he's 62 years old and wearing down, he's out of job, and there's this terrible 0bam--er, Bush, economy. It looks hopeless.
However.
One must remind the brain-damaged primitive that there's other primitives in even worse predicaments than his; in fact, compared with them, he's got barely anything to complain about.
There's the sparkling old dude, "Stinky the Clown," living through some rather, uh, tumultuous unrest in his married life. An old man should never marry a young woman, because he's going to be losing it right as her own needs and urges are coming to a climax.
And then there's the subway cat, "undergroundpanther," whose sisters got her triple-medicated so she'd feel okay with moving into a new place and separated from her pets. Well, she's settled in now, in a place where the inmates aren't allowed access to the internet, and there's not a thing she can do about it.
And the convenience store primitive, "LadyFreedomReturns," who's about to embark upon a journey west, hoping to reconcile with the old guy who dumped her. This is not going to be anything with a happy ending.
And the cbayer primitive, "cbayer," who's battling the bottle and bound to lose.
But the worst situation of all is that of my twin, "Atman." He was recently hired to publicize his hometown down in Florida, to bring in tourists and their dollars. It's going to take a Hell of a lot of imagination and creativity to make a Levittown sound as attractive and fun as Disneyland, and I don't think he has it in him to turn a pig into a swan.
All these primitives have a tough row to hoe, and I'm sure even the brain-damaged primitive sees they're worse off than he is.
So the brain-damaged primitive should be of good cheer; there's other primitives in lousier circumstances than his.
-
Well, here it is, Day 10 of the brain-damaged primitive Watch.
Actually, it was fifteen days ago that he posted those nasty comments about his employer and coworkers, and about "freepers," but that was just before the Labor Day holiday, and walrus-face wasn't at work.
And so the brain-damaged primitive Watch is dated from the following Tuesday, the day after Labor Day, when ostensibly he went to work and learned that "freepers" aren't as stupid and insignificant as he said we were.
So....it's Day 10, and no explanations, no apologies.
Oh, it's a bit longer than that, frank. Here's the timeline:
DainBramaged posted his "I blocked FAUX on the TV at work today" OP (http://www.democraticunderground.com/10023509971) on Wednesday, August 21.
On Friday, August 23, I reported that he worked at Gearhart Chevrolet (http://www.conservativecave.com/index.php/topic,90161.0/msg,1121752.html) and that his name was Doug Bulna (http://www.conservativecave.com/index.php/topic,90161.0/msg,1121760.html).
On Saturday, August 24, Doug found out that we were on to him, and he posted his angry message about freepers (http://www.democraticunderground.com/10023509971#post335).
On Monday, August 26, I reported that he had just self-deleted his OP (http://www.conservativecave.com/index.php/topic,90161.0/msg,1122592.html).
Since then, DainBramaged has posted only a few isolated doggie threads in the obscure Pets Group, with no commentary by him and with few or no replies. Nothing at all from him about the Case of the Missing Remote and Its Consequences.
So you could date the DB Stonewall of Silence starting on Tuesday, August 27, I suppose. In which case, this would now be Day 21.
-
I stand corrected, sir. Thank you.
I thought he'd posted it on Thursday, not Wednesday, and I was aware that the members of the most-excellent DUmmie FUnnies were the first to jump on the case, after which we followed.
Also, I'd thought it was a week later, August 29, just before Labor Day.
<<<one of chief failings is that rarely double-checks, just jumping into a fray with what one has assumed.
<<<given that character flaw, has no objections when someone else corrects.
So this is now Day 21 of both the primitives on Skins's island and decent and civilized people elsewhere in the world, being held hostage by the morose silence of the brain-damaged primitive.
<<<has plenty of time; willing to sit this out at least up to Thanksgiving.
-
Oh my.
Since the brain-damaged primitive diligently reads this thread every single day, I thought I'd present him with some idle amusement, to so as to lighten up his spirits and put some joy in his steps.
I'm not into cars--to me, a car is a car is a car is a car; the only thing that matters is that all four wheels spin the same way--but the brain-damaged primitive is, and one time on Skins's island he lit a campfire about these so-called "barn finds." This, from the New York Times, is located in franksolich's sort-of-immediate neighborhood:
In Nebraska, a Field of Low-Mileage Dreams
PIERCE, NEB. — For decades, a 10-acre tangle of trees in the corner of a corn and soybean field did its best to hide the legends of Pierce County.
But word got out. You could see a few of the cars from County Road 854 and a few more from the second green and third tee of the neighboring golf course.....
.....“They were parked in the trees, door handle to door handle, bumper to bumper,†Deb Bruegman said as she served beers in the clubhouse of the nine-hole course. “The trees grew up in and amongst and around them.â€
Still, few people were prepared for what emerged from the woods in late July, when a construction crew uprooted the cottonwoods, maples and ash trees and carried their mostly hidden treasures into the sunlight. Rearranged nearby in nine neat rows, each longer than a football field, were nearly 500 cars and trucks including American classics from the 1950s, ’60s and ’70s: Bel Airs and Corvairs, Apaches and Impalas, even a Corvette Pace Car model.
All were the legacy of Ray Lambrecht, the local Chevrolet dealer for 50 years until he retired in 1996. Now 95, he and his wife, Mildred, 92, still live across the street.....
There’s a 1958 Chevy Cameo pickup with 1.3 miles. A ’64 Impala with 4 miles. A ’77 Vega with 6 miles. A ’78 Corvette — the Indy Pace Car — with 4 miles.
Among those who buy and sell vintage cars, there is a special thrill in unearthing a “barn find†— a car tucked away in good condition and largely forgotten, only to surface years later — and the trove here is surely one of the largest such discoveries.....
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/09/15/automobiles/collectibles/in-nebraska-a-field-of-low-mileage-dreams.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0
There's going to be thousands of people here for that auction, from all fifty states and various foreign countries--people who have money to spend on such things because they're employed; employed because they don't bad-mouth their bosses or co-workers.
-
Does Doug Bulna even own a car?
I remember something about a daughter buying a car, but have never seen him mention one.
Maybe, like Amber, he'll need to learn to drive to visit the welfare office.
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Does Doug Bulna even own a car?
I remember something about a daughter buying a car, but have never seen him mention one.
Maybe, like Amber, he'll need to learn to drive to visit the welfare office.
Yeah. Someone stole his groceries out of it.
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DainBramaged (1000+ posts) Fri Nov-04-11 07:39 PM
Original message
Had my groceries disappear out of my car on the way home.
My two favorite no longer available Target bags, one canvas one burlap, bread, Swiss cheese, three Stonyfield 32 oz yogurts, bag of Almond Joy minis for my lunches this week, Olivio, foot long turkey and swiss sandwich from the deli for dinner tonight, corn muffins, pumpkin donuts, bananas, eggs, pancake syrup and a 12 pack of Lipton citrus tea. $44 worth of groceries in total. And the bags had the bread and eggs visible under the light where I was parked.
I work in a town where you don't really have to worry about stuff disappearing. I usually don't lock my doors where I get my lottery ticket, so I didn't tonight. There was a young guy in at the same time I was buying a candy bar, but with with change. Unkempt, and not clean looking. thin dirty jacket and skull rag on his head. He came in the back door almost simultaneously, went out the front into the area where I was parked after the cashier counted his change (OUT LOUD which was embarrassing as hell). He did not look like he was doing OK.
Got my ticket, yakked with the cashier a few, looked at the new Car and Driver, went out to the car, opened the door, and noticed the bags were gone off my passenger front seat. I thought for a couple of minutes, and let it go. Anyone who is hungry enough to steal groceries needs them way way more than I do.
I hope he enjoys the pumpkin donuts.......he needs them way way more than I do. And I hope he shares his good fortune with his friends or family. Even in one of the richest counties in America, we have a lot of people in need, but they get ignored.
Have a nice evening.
http://www.democraticunde...l&address=439x2244264
Not to be confused with this one:
DainBramaged (1000+ posts) Fri Dec-09-11 04:18 PM
Original message
"Can you spare any change for food?"
Edited on Fri Dec-09-11 04:23 PM by DainBramaged
That comment stunned me as I exited my local supermarket earlier this afternoon. I turned, and there sitting as if everything was great on this sunny day, reading a newspaper like they belonged, was a young couple. First glance, well dressed, not dirty, no 'meth marks' on their faces. Neither smoking. He shaggy blond hair sticking out from under a ski cap, her dark hair under a hoodie. Nice coats, nice boots on both.
"Is it for food or drugs and booze?"
No sir (huh, sir, are you shitting me?) we're hungry and we have no money.
You have split seconds to think how to respond without being hostile appearing or judgemental.
"Can I buy you lunch?"
YES sir, yes sir you can!"
I had just come out of the market, $43.00 in food for most of the week. Fits in a couple of cloth bags. I had a $20 as the change.
"I need to put this in my car, I'll be right back"
OK, we'll wait."
Polite, good teeth, pretty warmly dressed, but there was this edge, they didn't seem to be 'average' homeless.
Stuff in the car, walking back. I think, what is it, stray dogs and cats, dozens of people coming in and out, they asked me. I'm no angel, but my angels keep me grounded.
"Pizza good?"
Yes sir, if it's hot, we're happy!"
We walk down the mall to the pizza joint. "Where are you from?" Not around here sir."
"Are you both older than 18?" " Yes sir, I'm 23, my sister is 21."
Their names are Rich and Pat. I took it as truth. I have no reason to doubt them.
We got to the pizza joint and found a booth. "How about hot subs instead of pizza, I'm sure you get that a lot?" Quick looks and a faint smile from his sister, "Yes sir, we'd like that, you can order for us."
As I've stated before, we've not many 'poor' round these parts, it's one of the richest Puke counties in the US. I ordered them meatball subs and got them both drinks from the cooler. I spent $18.42 of my $20 bill. I'm the one who will be sucking down PB&J sandwiches this week, but that's OK.
"Where are you from?" Quick glances, nods, and then " We're from Indiana, we've been trying to get South where it's warmer before it is too cold. Our Mom had some problems she can't fix, we couldn't stay."
I sat speechless while they ate, it wasn't my place to ask any more personal questions. When you're poor and you HAVE to get out of your house, it's probably best. Their hair wasn't clean. Their hands were, but it was a while since they've showered.
"I'm not trying to be a jerk, but you have nice clothes". " Oh, (laughing quietly) we just raided the clothing bins over there last night, folks throw away nice clothes around here. My boots are new, little big, but they're new."
Living on the road in the richest country in the world and you're raiding clothing donation bins to stay warm.
"How do you get rides, it's illegal to hitch around here." "We hang out where there are trucks and try and get a ride. It's not always pleasant, but we've made it here."
"How long have you been on the road?" "Three weeks, three weeks."
(disclaimer; we talked a lot more, just too much to write down. They never told me why they left, but they were genuinely good kids).
After they finished, I told them I had to go, and asked it I could do anything else to help.
"No sir, no sir, it's been a good day now"
I got up, I shook his hand, his sister gave me a tentative hug, and I gave them this small compact LCD flashlight I carry to help me see when I'm walking at night. They didn't want to take it, but I insisted.
I turned and walked out tears streaming down my wrinkled old face because there's nothing else I can do for them, I'm too poor myself. I only hope they make it ok, and I hope MY angel looks after them.
Thanks for reading.
-
We're from Indiana, we've been trying to get South where it's warmer before it is too cold.
Maybe this has been asked, but who tries to go South from Indiana by going thru NJ?
.
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Maybe this has been asked, but who tries to go South from Indiana by going thru NJ?
.
Shhh, don't give them any ideas.
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Shhh, don't give them any ideas.
Of course. Clearly they should have gone through Detroit.
.
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DainBramaged (1000+ posts) Fri Nov-04-11 07:39 PM
Original message
Had my groceries disappear out of my car on the way home.
My two favorite no longer available Target bags, one canvas one burlap, bread, Swiss cheese, three Stonyfield 32 oz yogurts, bag of Almond Joy minis for my lunches this week, Olivio, foot long turkey and swiss sandwich from the deli for dinner tonight, corn muffins, pumpkin donuts, bananas, eggs, pancake syrup and a 12 pack of Lipton citrus tea. $44 worth of groceries in total. And the bags had the bread and eggs visible under the light where I was parked.
I work in a town where you don't really have to worry about stuff disappearing. I usually don't lock my doors where I get my lottery ticket, so I didn't tonight. There was a young guy in at the same time I was buying a candy bar, but with with change. Unkempt, and not clean looking. thin dirty jacket and skull rag on his head. He came in the back door almost simultaneously, went out the front into the area where I was parked after the cashier counted his change (OUT LOUD which was embarrassing as hell). He did not look like he was doing OK.
Got my ticket, yakked with the cashier a few, looked at the new Car and Driver, went out to the car, opened the door, and noticed the bags were gone off my passenger front seat. I thought for a couple of minutes, and let it go. Anyone who is hungry enough to steal groceries needs them way way more than I do.
I hope he enjoys the pumpkin donuts.......he needs them way way more than I do. And I hope he shares his good fortune with his friends or family. Even in one of the richest counties in America, we have a lot of people in need, but they get ignored.
Have a nice evening.
http://www.democraticunde...l&address=439x2244264
Not to be confused with this one:
Quote
DainBramaged (1000+ posts) Fri Dec-09-11 04:18 PM
Original message
"Can you spare any change for food?"
Edited on Fri Dec-09-11 04:23 PM by DainBramaged
That comment stunned me as I exited my local supermarket earlier this afternoon. I turned, and there sitting as if everything was great on this sunny day, reading a newspaper like they belonged, was a young couple. First glance, well dressed, not dirty, no 'meth marks' on their faces. Neither smoking. He shaggy blond hair sticking out from under a ski cap, her dark hair under a hoodie. Nice coats, nice boots on both.
"Is it for food or drugs and booze?"
No sir (huh, sir, are you shitting me?) we're hungry and we have no money.
You have split seconds to think how to respond without being hostile appearing or judgemental.
"Can I buy you lunch?"
YES sir, yes sir you can!"
I had just come out of the market, $43.00 in food for most of the week. Fits in a couple of cloth bags. I had a $20 as the change.
"I need to put this in my car, I'll be right back"
OK, we'll wait."
Polite, good teeth, pretty warmly dressed, but there was this edge, they didn't seem to be 'average' homeless.
Stuff in the car, walking back. I think, what is it, stray dogs and cats, dozens of people coming in and out, they asked me. I'm no angel, but my angels keep me grounded.
"Pizza good?"
Yes sir, if it's hot, we're happy!"
We walk down the mall to the pizza joint. "Where are you from?" Not around here sir."
"Are you both older than 18?" " Yes sir, I'm 23, my sister is 21."
Their names are Rich and Pat. I took it as truth. I have no reason to doubt them.
We got to the pizza joint and found a booth. "How about hot subs instead of pizza, I'm sure you get that a lot?" Quick looks and a faint smile from his sister, "Yes sir, we'd like that, you can order for us."
As I've stated before, we've not many 'poor' round these parts, it's one of the richest Puke counties in the US. I ordered them meatball subs and got them both drinks from the cooler. I spent $18.42 of my $20 bill. I'm the one who will be sucking down PB&J sandwiches this week, but that's OK.
"Where are you from?" Quick glances, nods, and then " We're from Indiana, we've been trying to get South where it's warmer before it is too cold. Our Mom had some problems she can't fix, we couldn't stay."
I sat speechless while they ate, it wasn't my place to ask any more personal questions. When you're poor and you HAVE to get out of your house, it's probably best. Their hair wasn't clean. Their hands were, but it was a while since they've showered.
"I'm not trying to be a jerk, but you have nice clothes". " Oh, (laughing quietly) we just raided the clothing bins over there last night, folks throw away nice clothes around here. My boots are new, little big, but they're new."
Living on the road in the richest country in the world and you're raiding clothing donation bins to stay warm.
"How do you get rides, it's illegal to hitch around here." "We hang out where there are trucks and try and get a ride. It's not always pleasant, but we've made it here."
"How long have you been on the road?" "Three weeks, three weeks."
(disclaimer; we talked a lot more, just too much to write down. They never told me why they left, but they were genuinely good kids).
After they finished, I told them I had to go, and asked it I could do anything else to help.
"No sir, no sir, it's been a good day now"
I got up, I shook his hand, his sister gave me a tentative hug, and I gave them this small compact LCD flashlight I carry to help me see when I'm walking at night. They didn't want to take it, but I insisted.
I turned and walked out tears streaming down my wrinkled old face because there's nothing else I can do for them, I'm too poor myself. I only hope they make it ok, and I hope MY angel looks after them.
Thanks for reading.
God, what a bullshit artist.
People like this are so insecure. They completely make up some feel good story, post it on DU, and hope for hi5s and accolades from their online buddies "You're really a good guy, Doug!"
-
I'm sure the brain-damaged primitive, along with hordes of other guests from northern New Jersey, is going to show up to read this thread, and the other one, soon.
So as to illuminate him, another news-story--this, from National Palesti--er, Public, Radio, a source the primitives trust--about what people who keep their jobs because they don't bad-mouth the boss and their fellow co-workers, are able to spend their money on.
Under Dust And Rust, 'New' Classic Cars Go Up For Auction
Inside the Lambrecht Chevrolet Company in tiny* Pierce, Neb., under layers of dirt, sit a dozen classic cars. A 1978 Chevrolet Indy Pace Car, black with racing stripes down the side. There's a '66 Bel Air sedan in a color called tropic turquoise, and a 1964 impala.
"If you wipe away the dirt, it's shiny underneath," says auctioneer Yvette VanDerBrink. Even though this car is almost 50 years old, VanDerBrink says, it's still brand new.
Later this month Lambrecht's will auction more than 500 classic cars, many with fewer than 10 miles on the odometer.
Finding cars in this condition is unheard of. It's the holy grail for collectors. Some cars still have the plastic on the seats and the price sticker on the window. The old Impala would have sold for about $3,000 in 1964. It could now be worth 40 times that.
"I would not be surprised to see them break six figures," says Jim Pickering, editor of American Car Collector, a publication covering car auctions around the world. He says many of these brand new cars still have the original oil in their engines.....
*not sure what to make of that, "tiny." By Nebraska standards, with 1,700 people, Pierce is a full-fledged city, just like Miami or Los Angeles; here, "tiny" would be a town--"town," not "village"--of about 20 people or less.
Arrogant effete eastern establishment elites, who dare to tell Nebraskans what's "big" and what's "tiny."
"These are cars that were basically taken from the dealer and shoved out back and have been sitting ever since they were brand new. That just flat out doesn't happen," Pickering says. "This is kind of urban legend material."
Ray Lambrecht, 95, is the man behind the legend. Under his business model, he wouldn't sell trade-ins or the previous year's model once the new ones came out. He closed his dealership in 1996 and is just now selling off his collection.....
The website cataloguing the cars already has more than 1 million views. (A video the auctioneer created of some of the cars has proved similarly popular.) As many as 10,000 enthusiasts will swarm to Pierce, overwhelming the town of about 1,700......
"We've had calls from China, Iceland, Finland, Norway, Germany, all over the world," VanDerBrink says.
-
Of course. Clearly they should have gone through Detroit.
.
Thats a great idea.
DOUG! Move to Detroit. You can buy a house for a hundred or just move in and live for free!
Best of all if you rob a liquor store after dark, the cops won't show up!
Can't think of anyplace that will stretch your retirement dollar further than Detroit.
You can retire like a king! and there are plenty of hood rats who can replace Squeak in your heart.
Further you won't fear crime because all the locals will be scared of that walrus who keeps yelling, "Benghazi!"
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Doug Bulna should stay in New Jersey.
Detroit just doesn't seem likely to offer a bright future to a 62-year-old moonbat with no good references, a revolting physical appearance, obsolete experience, and a childish devotion to animals.
Those attributes are highly valued in New Jersey.
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:lmao: I think I missed that the first time around, the screed being so long and all. Indiana people going south by way of New Jersey. :rotf: And look at all the "sirs" he peppered the story with! It's the only way he gets any respect.
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Doug Bulna should stay in New Jersey.
Detroit just doesn't seem likely to offer a bright future to a 62-year-old moonbat with no good references, a revolting physical appearance, obsolete experience, and a childish devotion to animals.
Those attributes are highly valued in New North Jersey.
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The people at Gearhart Chevrolet may be interested to know that Doug Bulna is back at the DUmp as DUmmy coldmountain.
-
As I've posted elsewhere here, DUmmie coldmountain is not DainBramaged incognito. A search of coldmountain's posts, pre-remote, shows: that coldmountain had lived in the South for 30 years; that coldmountain's father hailed from Pennsylvania and was in high school in 1950; etc. None of that fits 62-year-old (lifelong?) New Jerseyite Doug Bulna.
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I'd love to see "coldmountain" post something about a sweet goggy.
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I'd love to see "coldmountain" post something about a sweet goggy.
If it is in fact the brain-damaged primitive--which it might be; I haven't made up my mind yet, but am leaning towards "probably is"--he'll slip up and betray himself.
Primitives always slip up.
-
So what if Doug Bulna committed vandalism when he used parental controls with the remote to erase Fox off a television he didn't own. So what if Doug Bulna then committed larceny by then stealing said remote. As Hitlery would say...
(http://newsbusters.org/sites/default/files/imagecache/frontpage-200/thumbnail_photos/2013/September/Clinton%20Benghazi_0.jpg)
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Doug should grab a Greyhound to Tucson.
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Doug Bulna, Is not coldmountain.
Coldmountain, has never been sysadmin for Gearhart Chevrolet.
Perhaps it's time to back off of Gearhart.
They addressed the problem.
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Doug Bulna, Is not coldmountain.
Coldmountain, has never been sysadmin for Gearhart Chevrolet.
Perhaps it's time to back off of Gearhart.
They addressed the problem.
I agree with you, Skul. :cheersmate:
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I agree with you, Skul. :cheersmate:
Why the affection for Gearhart Government Motors?
Government Motors is owned and operated by the United Autoworkers, at the expense of the legitimate bondholders, whose assets were confiscated by the jug-eared muslim and the democrat congress.
I won't shed a tear if Government Motors and all their franchisees go belly up, though it's really unlikely that Doug Bulna has the power to make that happen.
I'm not aware of anyone attacking Gearhart Government Motors, but if they are, more power to them.
-
As I've posted elsewhere here, DUmmie coldmountain is not DainBramaged incognito. A search of coldmountain's posts, pre-remote, shows: that coldmountain had lived in the South for 30 years; that coldmountain's father hailed from Pennsylvania and was in high school in 1950; etc. None of that fits 62-year-old (lifelong?) New Jerseyite Doug Bulna.
I think coldmountain is :fishing: for a brain damaged fish.
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Doug just doesn't want to come back, does he?
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Doug just doesn't want to come back, does he?
Doug who?
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Doug who?
That would be Doug Bulna, formerly and probably still the sysadmin at Gearhart Chevrolet, a Government Motors dealership somewhere in the blue hellhole of New Jersey.
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That would be Doug Bulna, formerly and probably still the sysadmin at Gearhart Chevrolet, a Government Motors dealership somewhere in the blue hellhole of New Jersey.
Ask the question at the DUmp and you'll get the same reply. They've forgotten he even existed.
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That would be Doug Bulna, formerly and probably still the sysadmin at Gearhart Chevrolet, a Government Motors dealership somewhere in the blue hellhole of New North Jersey.
-
I have no doubt that a decent and civilized person in South Jersey bears no resemblance to the swarming, squirming, steaming hordes of vermin on the west bank of the Hudson.
The Russian In The Woods episode, in the Pine Barrens, was beautiful, as was the wilderness where Silvio shot Adriana.
Unfortunately, New Jersey is just like New York, where millions of deadbeats in one corner of the state ruin the whole thing.
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Well, I hope Doug Bulna is settling into a comfortable, well-earned retirement.
Not really.
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Well, I hope Doug Bulna is settling into a comfortable, well-earned retirement.
Not really.
He's not, because he'd be bragging to the primitive about it, about how he outsmarted "freepers."
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He's not, because he'd be bragging to the primitive about it, about how he outsmarted "freepers."
Next, we'll hear a story about the benefits of living in a 1986 Chevy Cavalier . . .
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Next, we'll hear a story about the benefits of living in a 1986 Chevy Cavalier . . .
Whatever else he might be doing, I'm sure the brain-damaged primitive is eating his heart out, because of where franksolich is this week.
The brain-damaged primitive likes old classic automobiles, and has for a long time lusted for a "barn find," an ancient vehicle that's been stored and ignored for decades, and sold on the cheap. franksolich on the other hand has no interest, no interest whatsoever, in old cars; to me, a car is a car is a car is a car.
Guess which one of the two of us is up to our neck in perhaps the biggest "barn find" in history.
It's all over google; any link tells the story:
https://www.google.com/#q=pierce+car+auction
Anyway, even though the auction doesn't start until Saturday (inspection is available beginning Friday, though), there's already circa 20,000 people there. clogging up a town of circa 1,600. All the campgrounds, the motels and hotels, and private homes with spare bedrooms to rent, are packed.
Even though I live some miles away, I still got two recreational vehicles from Texas, one pickup truck with a camper from Illinois, and one tent on the ground from Alabama, right here on this property. They're strangers to each other, but they all seem to be getting along, and assure me the accommodations are good.
I was in Pierce yesterday (Tuesday) on other business, and it's remarkable, that so much of the world's come here. There's for example a guy from Norway who's a fireman over there, and who couldn't find a place to stay here for the sale. The fire department in the big city nearby made up an extra bunk for him at the firehouse.
Germans, Australians, and even one--thus far--authentic Brazilian.
License-plates on vehicles from all the 48 continental United States and Alaska (I saw none from Hawaii, but I suppose it's rather difficult driving from there to here) and all the provinces of Canada, and plenty of Mercedes-Benzs and Audis from Mexico.
And much to my amazement, I saw an old stereotype I thought had evaporated circa 1950 or something--a bunch of short little guys from Japan wearing suits and eyeglasses, with buck teeth, and cameras hanging from their necks.
I remember them especially because one of them, upon seeing me, excitedly hollered to the others, ni amerikan, ni amerikan!, and they wanted their picture taken with me.
I dunno why they picked me; there's tons of people there dressed in either farm or ranch attire, while I was dressed in my usual tan bush helmet, tan shirt, and tan shorts, looking like someone out of British East Africa of the 1920s.
(I dress this way around here, because in jeans and a cowboy hat, I look as stupid as the Bostonian Drunkard or the late Chief S itting Bull, the "Redstone" primitive, look in western attire; and besides, other than in winter, nowhere in the world resembles the former British East Africa than the terrain, climate, and flora of the Sandhills of Nebraska, so it's utterly natural.)
Add to that, these Nips were, like 5'1" or 5'2", and here, I'm 6'3"; I towered above them.
But whatever.
The brain-damaged primitive should die of jealousy, that he's unemployed and so can't be here.
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Whatever else he might be doing, I'm sure the brain-damaged primitive is eating his heart out, because of where franksolich is this week.
The brain-damaged primitive likes old classic automobiles, and has for a long time lusted for a "barn find," an ancient vehicle that's been stored and ignored for decades, and sold on the cheap. franksolich on the other hand has no interest, no interest whatsoever, in old cars; to me, a car is a car is a car is a car.
Guess which one of the two of us is up to our neck in perhaps the biggest "barn find" in history.
It's all over google; any link tells the story:
https://www.google.com/#q=pierce+car+auction
Anyway, even though the auction doesn't start until Saturday (inspection is available beginning Friday, though), there's already circa 20,000 people there. clogging up a town of circa 1,600. All the campgrounds, the motels and hotels, and private homes with spare bedrooms to rent, are packed.
Even though I live some miles away, I still got two recreational vehicles from Texas, one pickup truck with a camper from Illinois, and one tent on the ground from Alabama, right here on this property. They're strangers to each other, but they all seem to be getting along, and assure me the accommodations are good.
I was in Pierce yesterday (Tuesday) on other business, and it's remarkable, that so much of the world's come here. There's for example a guy from Norway who's a fireman over there, and who couldn't find a place to stay here for the sale. The fire department in the big city nearby made up an extra bunk for him at the firehouse.
Germans, Australians, and even one--thus far--authentic Brazilian.
License-plates on vehicles from all the 48 continental United States and Alaska (I saw none from Hawaii, but I suppose it's rather difficult driving from there to here) and all the provinces of Canada, and plenty of Mercedes-Benzs and Audis from Mexico.
And much to my amazement, I saw an old stereotype I thought had evaporated circa 1950 or something--a bunch of short little guys from Japan wearing suits and eyeglasses, with buck teeth, and cameras hanging from their necks.
I remember them especially because one of them, upon seeing me, excitedly hollered to the others, ni amerikan, ni amerikan!, and they wanted their picture taken with me.
I dunno why they picked me; there's tons of people there dressed in either farm or ranch attire, while I was dressed in my usual tan bush helmet, tan shirt, and tan shorts, looking like someone out of British East Africa of the 1920s.
(I dress this way around here, because in jeans and a cowboy hat, I look as stupid as the Bostonian Drunkard or the late Chief S itting Bull, the "Redstone" primitive, look in western attire; and besides, other than in winter, nowhere in the world resembles the former British East Africa than the terrain, climate, and flora of the Sandhills of Nebraska, so it's utterly natural.)
Add to that, these Nips were, like 5'1" or 5'2", and here, I'm 6'3"; I towered above them.
But whatever.
The brain-damaged primitive should die of jealousy, that he's unemployed and so can't be here.
I wish I could be there to attend that auction....not that I could afford more than a hot dog. But I would love to watch the crowd and listen to the bidding. I hope they have a good auctioneer.....a good one is like music to my ears.
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I wish I could be there to attend that auction....not that I could afford more than a hot dog. But I would love to watch the crowd and listen to the bidding. I hope they have a good auctioneer.....a good one is like music to my ears.
Nine football field-lengths of old cars, lined up frontwise, not lengthwise.
The guy, when he took a car for a trade-in, usually didn't bother trying to re-sell it, instead just having it towed out to his farm. He was in business 1946-1996, so there were probably a lot of trade-ins.
The other odd thing was that Chevrolet didn't finance his inventory, nor did any bank.
He paid Chevrolet for everything up front, and so could pick-and-choose what he got.
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Nine football field-lengths of old cars, lined up frontwise, not lengthwise.
The guy, when he took a car for a trade-in, usually didn't bother trying to re-sell it, instead just having it towed out to his farm. He was in business 1946-1996, so there were probably a lot of trade-ins.
The other odd thing was that Chevrolet didn't finance his inventory, nor did any bank.
He paid Chevrolet for everything up front, and so could pick-and-choose what he got.
I read about this sale a couple of months ago. Sounded like it was going to be a humdinger and from what you have described...YES!
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Nine football field-lengths of old cars, lined up frontwise, not lengthwise.
Now that would be a bad place for a Nebraska hailstorm.
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Now that would be a bad place for a Nebraska hailstorm.
Or a trailer park.
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Now that would be a bad place for a Nebraska hailstorm.
Last night, Wednesday night, the guy from Alabama who's camping here for the sale and I went back to Pierce to look at things. It's a carnival there, in normally laid back, mellow, peaceful Pierce, population circa 1,600.
Taking advantage of the situation--and who can blame them?--just about everythings's for sale in Pierce, excepting sex and after midnight, alcohol. Hastily set up concession stands vending everything from cotton candy to hot dogs. Even the grocery store's selling camping equipment, and the photography studio, firewood. Every third or fourth private residence is an impromtu bed-and-breakfast.
Outsiders seem confused by the alcohol laws, but of course they make perfect sense. It can be sold only between 6 a.m. and midnight, and consumption's permitted only in the establishments where it's bought, or on private property. Drinking on the sidewalks, out on the streets, in the parks, whatever, is a definite no-no, and if one curses a cop, there's a public indecency charge tagged on--from all the fines collected from people who when in Rome don't do as the Romans do, I'm sure Pierce is going to be able to halve their property taxes and put up a brand-new Olympics-grade swimming pool.
There's even a couple of faux trolley cars from Omaha, usually loaded to the gills, taking people around showing them the sights--the county courthouse, the high school, the football field, the city library, the fish-and-bait shop, the soccer field, the tennis courts, the country club, &c., &c., &c.
One can't inspect the motor vehicles until Friday, but for the meantime one can drive down the road and glance at them from afar. Given the road and the terrain, it looks as if a line of cars stretching forever to the horizon.
I'm not a resident of the town or the county, but I must say the decent and civilized people of Pierce (incidentally, the reddest part of this red state; this is real red) are making the rest of we Nebraskans look good, with their most-excellent hospitality and entrepreneurship.
I'll bet the brain-damaged primitive wishes he could be here, but of course he screwed up all chances for that by bad-mouthing his employers and fellow co-workers, and libeling "freepers," saying we don't count.
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I have no doubt that a decent and civilized person in South Jersey bears no resemblance to the swarming, squirming, steaming hordes of vermin on the west bank of the Hudson.
The Russian In The Woods episode, in the Pine Barrens, was beautiful, as was the wilderness where Silvio shot Adriana.
Unfortunately, New Jersey is just like New York, where millions of deadbeats in one corner of the state ruin the whole thing.
Actually that episode was filmed in NY state; I don't know where the Silvio/Adriana episode was filmed. If you watched the first season of Boardwalk Empire where the shootout occurs with Jimmy Darmody in the woods (and you see the sign "Welcome to Hammonton, NJ, Blueberry Capital of the World"), that's in the Pine Barrens, and we're very red down here. We're only blue during blueberry season! :-)
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Or a trailer park.
I forgot to mention something else; I was distracted.
The funny thing about Pierce is that it's the largest city in Nebraska (population 1,600) without a restaurant, not even a fast-food joint. Apparently there's never been a demand for one. If one needs chow in Pierce, there's those boiled eggs kept in jars of colored water at the bars, and there's pizza-by-the-slice at the two convenience stores.
If one wishes to dine on exqusite cuisine, one has to go fifteen miles northwest to Pierce's sister city in Pierce County, Plainview, population 1,500, where there's lots of places for fine dining, or down into the big city circa 30 miles south.
Pierce is the county seat, but Plainview is where the dining's at.....and the motels.....and the hospital, if one needs one. They even have a bowling alley in Plainview, bigger and more popular and more modern than the one in the big city.
I point this out because nobody noticed these things until half of Hollywood was here last summer, making a film, Nebraska, scheduled to come out, I guess, this November. They'd planned to do much of the filming in Pierce and the big city, but then finding Plainview had all the comforts of life at their fingertips, did it in Plainview instead.
However, not to disparage Pierce; no way. Pierce is a nice town, full of decent and civilized people.
And it boasts the finest outdoor camping, fishing, and hunting alongside the Elkhorn River, only one other, much smaller, location excepted.
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It will take the fishing 2 years to recover from the degenerates invading their county! Hell, we still haven't recovered from the HollyWierd types coming up hear and taking advantage of our hospitality. Hunting, fishing, boating, skiing. None of it has come back since they started treating this place like a vacation spot akin to Aspen.
I can't stand people from Kalifornica, can ya tell?
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It will take the fishing 2 years to recover from the degenerates invading their county! Hell, we still haven't recovered from the HollyWierd types coming up hear and taking advantage of our hospitality. Hunting, fishing, boating, skiing. None of it has come back since they started treating this place like a vacation spot akin to Aspen.
I can't stand people from Kalifornica, can ya tell?
It's the same every where....the save the earth crowd acting like dogs spoiling someone else's yard. We should all go shit in their yard and see how they like that.
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It's the same every where....the save the earth crowd acting like dogs spoiling someone else's yard. We should all go shit in their yard and see how they like that.
This is just anecdotal, and based upon license-plate origins, but as of this afternoon, it appears there's more non-Nebraskans in northeastern Nebraska, than we natives.
Of course, the population's so sparse that all of us could fit into the brain-damaged primitive's town over there in northern New Jersey, but still--
The business partner and I noticed two new phenomenons today.
One is that people who had old vehicles stored or stashed in a shed or the backyard or under a tree, apparently are now very interested in getting rid of their junk. Along the highways to Pierce, one sees plenty of spots where there's half a dozen or so vehicles, usually from the 1950s and 1960s, and in all conditions, from utterly decrepit to fully restored, bearing big FOR SALE signs.
There's lots of that, and they weren't there before. They just popped up.
And on the roads themselves, there's lots and lots of vehicles from the 1930s, 1940s, and 1950s running around, their owners apparently just wanting to show them off to our visitors.
This place is starting to look like Cuba.
To me, a car is a car is a car, and especially if it's not running, I got no interest in it. But the business partner of course derives some of his income (something with which I'm not connected) from selling motor vehicles, and so is rather more interested in such things.
While I was driving he kept poking me, pointing out that this was a 1958 something or that was a 1947 something or this other thing was a 1961 something. Ho-hum.
I actually had to stop one time, because he wanted to look over the carcass of a late 1950s Ford Edward or whatever they were called; a short-lived model. I pointed out it obviously wasn't in running condition, but he wanted to inspect it anyway.
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One is that people who had old vehicles stored or stashed in a shed or the backyard or under a tree, apparently are now very interested in getting rid of their junk. Along the highways to Pierce, one sees plenty of spots where there's half a dozen or so vehicles, usually from the 1950s and 1960s, and in all conditions, from utterly decrepit to fully restored, bearing big FOR SALE signs.
There's lots of that, and they weren't there before. They just popped up.
And on the roads themselves, there's lots and lots of vehicles from the 1930s, 1940s, and 1950s running around, their owners apparently just wanting to show them off to our visitors.
This place is starting to look like Cuba.
The same thing happens around here each year when the Street Machine Nationals come to town. All sorts of cars come crawling out of the woodwork, from all directions. Last year, the guy two houses down from me plopped a beautiful early 50s Beetle on his lawn for sale that weekend. I never had the foggiest idea he even had it. I guess I mind my own business too much.
Have you always had an indifference to automobiles? I seem to recall that you do enjoy trains, though.
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Have you always had an indifference to automobiles? I seem to recall that you do enjoy trains, though.
Trains are great. Or rather, were great, before Amtrak.
But yeah, cars never rowed my boat, rocked my chair, pushed my buttons. I'm not sure why, but a good guess would be that the older brothers were heavily into them, and I strove to be as unlike them as much as possible (a good thing too, because they all turned out hippies and liberals).
One time when I was wandering around the socialist paradises of the workers and peasants, a member of the local constabulary was taking me around in his car, showing me the sights.
<<<was always given the royal treatment by people who'd never seen a real-life Amerikanskiy before.
I disremember why it happened, but at one point, when we were getting back into the car after looking at something, I got preoccupied with something else, and accidentally tore the door handle off.
The whole thing; yanked it clean out of the metal. Just like that. Pulled it off.
He took it with good graces, as he had a prisoner in jail he needed to punish, and thought he'd have that guy fix it.
Then he asked me if his Lada was as good as American cars.
I told him that as far as I knew, which wasn't a whole lot, yes.
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There are 2 cars that trip my trigger....57 T-bird and a 62/3 XKE Coup.
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There are 2 cars that trip my trigger....57 T-bird and a 62/3 XKE Coup.
Looks like we have the same taste in cars.
Speaking of which, check out this photo I just took this morning while waiting for a light to change :naughty:
(http://i1146.photobucket.com/albums/o528/dummieland/bird1_zpsd507726a.jpg)
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Looks like we have the same taste in cars.
Speaking of which, check out this photo I just took this morning while waiting for a light to change :naughty:
(http://i1146.photobucket.com/albums/o528/dummieland/bird1_zpsd507726a.jpg)
Nice trailer. :whistling:
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(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/county%20fair/MoldovaSnowyLada_1000_zpsd0293636.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/county%20fair/MoldovaSnowyLada_1000_zpsd0293636.jpg.html)
Anyway, the latest google pages (Thursday, September 26):
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/county%20fair/db0926-1_zps447e71b1.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/county%20fair/db0926-1_zps447e71b1.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/county%20fair/db0926-2_zpse72e78fd.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/county%20fair/db0926-2_zpse72e78fd.jpg.html)
And for the sob sisters here, who think we're doing some sort of damage to the innocent victims, who learned they were harboring a viper in their bosoms:
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/county%20fair/db0926-3_zpsad06120a.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/county%20fair/db0926-3_zpsad06120a.jpg.html)
Nope, nothing about conservativecave on those pages.
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Well, Hades.
I just now found out the entire old car auction's on the internet too.
Ten pages for day one, Saturday (stuff is selling on Sunday too; inspection's tomorrow, Friday), and the motor vehicles begin on page three; what's before then is junk.
https://www.proxibid.com/asp/Catalog.asp?aid=68561&p=3&sort=0#cnTb
I can't believe some of these bids; also there's plenty of pretty pictures of old cars, if one wants to look.
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I can't believe some of these bids
It can get pretty ridiculous, especially for a bunch of old Chevrolets.
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It can get pretty ridiculous, especially for a bunch of old Chevrolets.
Well, today, circa 8:30 a.m., is when prospective buyers and curiosity-gawkers get to inspect the items close up.
By 6:00 a.m., the highways leading to Pierce were traffic-jammed, damned near only a mere fifty feet or so separating the vehicles from each other.
I'm not going, but I did ask those I know who are going, to be on the lookout for a short heavy-set walrus-faced guy, in case the brain-damaged primitive managed to hitch-hike out here. He probably didn't, but one never knows.
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Well, today, circa 8:30 a.m., is when prospective buyers and curiosity-gawkers get to inspect the items close up.
By 6:00 a.m., the highways leading to Pierce were traffic-jammed, damned near only a mere fifty feet or so separating the vehicles from each other.
I'm not going, but I did ask those I know who are going, to be on the lookout for a short heavy-set walrus-faced guy, in case the brain-damaged primitive managed to hitch-hike out here. He probably didn't, but one never knows.
You never know....he may even be living in one.
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Looks like we have the same taste in cars.
Speaking of which, check out this photo I just took this morning while waiting for a light to change :naughty:
(http://i1146.photobucket.com/albums/o528/dummieland/bird1_zpsd507726a.jpg)
Like seeing cars from the past. They built them better than today.
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Like seeing cars from the past. They built them better than today.
Not really. They just looked nicer. :-)
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Not really. They just looked nicer.
That's right, but only for about twelve months.
Do you have to buy a new set of tires every 15-18,000 miles?
When was the last time you saw a rusted-through rocker panel or quarter panel? A rusted bumper?
When did you last see a car trailing white smoke, or heard a loud, rusted-out muffler?
I don't remember the last time, but it was every single day when these "classic" cars filled the roads.
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Not really. They just looked nicer. :-)
And bigger.
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And bigger.
Yeah. My "mid-sized" Fairlane is about the same as the full-size Crown Vic (they stopped buildling them in 2011).
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That's right, but only for about twelve months.
Do you have to buy a new set of tires every 15-18,000 miles?
When was the last time you saw a rusted-through rocker panel or quarter panel? A rusted bumper?
When did you last see a car trailing white smoke, or heard a loud, rusted-out muffler?
I don't remember the last time, but it was every single day when these "classic" cars filled the roads.
Sales of bailing wire and duct tape were cut in half when these classics were kept in storage instead of being driven.
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That's right, but only for about twelve months.
Do you have to buy a new set of tires every 15-18,000 miles?
When was the last time you saw a rusted-through rocker panel or quarter panel? A rusted bumper?
When did you last see a car trailing white smoke, or heard a loud, rusted-out muffler?
I don't remember the last time, but it was every single day when these "classic" cars filled the roads.
WTF, Gobie? All the classics I know of, are in new if not better condition. I have seen many cars no older than ten years doing what you speak of. Most owners of classics, restore them to better than new condition. 4 wheel discs, new front end suspension new interiors, sound, etc, etc, etc!
Same goes for my '45 FlatHead, BTW.
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Well, here it is, Saturday morning, and the old car sale's about to start in circa three hours.
It's also the first day of the autumnal rains in the Sandhills, with clouds bursting and temperatures in the low 50s; my favorite time of the year. It's a joy to be alive, in the Sandhills of Nebraska in the autumn, especially in October.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/12-115_zps5ec2b502.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/12-115_zps5ec2b502.jpg.html)
^^^from franksolich's back yard, looking towards the river
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/57t_zps79e4d13f.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/57t_zps79e4d13f.jpg.html)
^^^from franksolich's driveway, looking towards the northwest
The weather however isn't going to stop the old-car buyers though, and I'm sure even if they came from the tropics, they were expecting it anyway.
The guy from Alabama who's camping on a tent here--there's still those two recreational vehicles and a pick-up truck with mounted camper, from other states, but while I've met them and they seem like nice people, I haven't socialized with them--spent the night here, instead of down by the river.
I've known people all my life from all fifty states, and while the people from Alabama tend to be some of the nicest people one can ever hope to meet, they're the biggest wimps, the biggest sissies, about the autumn, winter, and spring weather in Nebraska. Nobody from the more-genteel climes of Florida or South Carolina or even Hawaii, ever whines about our "cold" weather; only people from Alabama.
Apparently people from Alabama have never been in New Jersey in January, especially on the seashore.
Even for someone who's spent time in some near-arctic regions, that's cold.
But regardless, he's a nice guy and has the appropriate attitude about the late Paul "Bear" Bryant, who along with the late Woody Hayes, was the greatest coach in the history of college football.
Some outsider the other day had inquired of me about renting a trailer, I guess to haul the carcass of an old car back to his home in Delaware, as he hadn't brought one with him. He'd come out here just to look, but after looking, decided he wanted to buy three old cars, and expected to be successful in bidding on at least one of them.
(I found him a trailer to rent--from a private individual--but it took a lot of time; there's no trailers to be had in the eastern half of Nebraska or the southern half of South Dakota this weekend.)
My guest from Alabama too had come all the way up here just to look, but is now interested in buying--however, because he'd just come to look, he hadn't come with a trailer.
I asked him what he was going to do, if he got one of the old cars.
He said there's a guy in the big city who's offering to tow and store vehicles until one can go back home and bring back a trailer. The fee's fifty dollars a day, and includes the tow from the auction site, which is circa 35 miles north and west of the big city.
That sounds high to me, but apparently many have arranged for his services.
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Great fall pictures, Frank.
**************** Here is Doug's Fall Views in Jersey:
(http://img20.imageshack.us/img20/3071/aqkz.jpg)
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53 earlier....60 now and the sun is shining in SC this morning......nice weather. :-)
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53 earlier....60 now and the sun is shining in SC this morning......nice weather. :-)
Poor Dougie-poo. Must be freezing sleeping on a park bench.
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Poor Dougie-poo. Must be freezing sleeping on a park bench.
Yeah, 53 is pretty cool when you're on a park bench and all you have for a blanket is yesterdays news paper.
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Yeah, 53 is pretty cool when you're on a park bench and all you have for a blanket is yesterdays news paper.
Is pigeon poop an insulation?
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72 and the sun is shining here in SW MO.
If Doug had purchased something from Pierce, he could have drove it down here, and showed it to all the people at the Street Machine Nationals going on right now.
But it's kind of hard to think about anything like that, when your back is killing you from sleeping on a park bench all night.
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That's right, but only for about twelve months.
Do you have to buy a new set of tires every 15-18,000 miles?
When was the last time you saw a rusted-through rocker panel or quarter panel? A rusted bumper?
When did you last see a car trailing white smoke, or heard a loud, rusted-out muffler?
I don't remember the last time, but it was every single day when these "classic" cars filled the roads.
Go visit Cleveland, OH.
Even Corvettes get body rust.
:whatever:
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Geezuz.
I just checked (circa noon, central time).
The rusted out 1958 Ford Cameo pick-up truck, the top item, was sold for $140,000.
The rusted out 1958 Ford Apache 1 pick-up truck went for $80,000.
The rusted out 1978 Chevrolet Corvette went for $80,000.
The rusted out 1964 Chevrolet Impala went for $75,000.
The rusted out 1963 Chevrolet Impala went for $97,500.
The rusted out 1965 Chevrolet Impala went for $72,500.
Who's bidding on these items? Saudi royalty?
The cheapest item thus far's been the rusted out 1977 Chevrolet Vega, for $10,500.
It appears even if the brain-damaged primitive were still employed, even he couldn't afford this stuff.
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Man.
Five thousand dollars for this 1942 antiquity?
Damn.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/00001_zps4fbcb47c.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/00001_zps4fbcb47c.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/00002_zpsae86d412.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/00002_zpsae86d412.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/00003_zps6017ba40.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/00003_zps6017ba40.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/00004_zps621b74f2.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/00004_zps621b74f2.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/00005_zpsd7af19e5.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/00005_zpsd7af19e5.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/00006_zps29a653e7.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/00006_zps29a653e7.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/00007_zpsc984c491.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/00007_zpsc984c491.jpg.html)
One wonders what the brain-damaged primitive's former employer would give on it, for a trade-in.
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Man.
Five thousand dollars for this 1942 antiquity?
Damn.
One wonders what the brain-damaged primitive's former employer would give on it, for a trade-in.
Probably five thousand dollars or more, if you are buying a car with a high enough sticker price.
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A 1942 any kind of car/truck is as rare as hens teeth.....so maybe that's why the high price.
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A 1942 any kind of car/truck is as rare as hens teeth.....so maybe that's why the high price.
Well, I must say, with all due respect to the decent and civilized people of that state, that somebody knows how to sell cars, and it isn't somebody from New Jersey.
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Thirty thousand bucks.
I forgot to look up the specifications, though. Maybe it still runs, I dunno.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0010_zpsa6f7de19.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0010_zpsa6f7de19.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0011_zps40a3f759.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0011_zps40a3f759.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0012_zps33d99aa4.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0012_zps33d99aa4.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0013_zps9d2c3c31.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0013_zps9d2c3c31.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0014_zps982a77d2.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0014_zps982a77d2.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0015_zpsfa3fa768.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0015_zpsfa3fa768.jpg.html)
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I hope that rear window wasn't down the entire time. Not that the rats and snakes would need a big opening.
Civilian car production ended in early 1942, about halfway through the model year, and didn't resume for another four years. Very desirable if you're into pre-war cars.
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I hope that rear window wasn't down the entire time. Not that the rats and snakes would need a big opening.
Oh, since nearly all these vehicles, including the ones with no miles on the odometer, were just kept out in a field, some of them for....more than fifty years. The guy had a "thing" against used cars and last-year's-model cars. He paid his own cash for his inventory--meaning he didn't have to just take whatever Chevrolet sent him--and when new models came out, he just stuck the new-but-never-sold vehicles out with the used ones.
There's prolific wildlife out here; I'm sure there were more than just rats and snakes that bobolinked in them.
Now, this is a model I've never heard of in my life.
1928 Durrant, sold "as is" for a whooping seven thousand bucks.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0021_zps26a3c2ef.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0021_zps26a3c2ef.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0022_zpsb48930be.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0022_zpsb48930be.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0023_zpsa2277e6c.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0023_zpsa2277e6c.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0024_zpsedebdcf2.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0024_zpsedebdcf2.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0025_zpsfe160c85.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0025_zpsfe160c85.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0026_zps32da098c.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0026_zps32da098c.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0027_zps7b798110.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0027_zps7b798110.jpg.html)
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And a Nebraska "howdy" to all the lurking guests from northern New Jersey who've been checking this out.
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And a Nebraska "howdy" to all the lurking guests from northern New Jersey who've been checking this out.
I'm feeling in a friendly mood - so I'll join you and give a wave from across the pond in merry England (or Perfidious Albion if you prefer).
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The cheapest item thus far's been the rusted out 1977 Chevrolet Vega, for $10,500
You are kidding...right? The Vega was pre-Obama's GM absolutely worst car ever. Even the Ford Edsel had charm, but the Vega was as bad as it gets.
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I'm feeling in a friendly mood - so I'll join you and give a wave from across the pond in merry England (or Perfidious Albion if you prefer).
Oh, but nothing perfidious about Albion; the English are the finest people who ever graced humanity.
And I always found England in winter delightful; people should visit there then, because it's cheaper.
<<<cheapskate.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/cathedrals/York.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/cathedrals/York.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/cathedrals/Canterbury.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/cathedrals/Canterbury.jpg.html)
And back to you, sir, a 'howdy" from the Sandhills of Nebraska, God's country.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills/0028_zps2e65e434.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills/0028_zps2e65e434.jpg.html)
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The sale's far from over--it goes on into tomorrow (Sunday) too, but near as I can tell, this appears to be about the "average" vehicle offered, obtaining an "average" successful bid of $15,000:
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0031_zpsd03c81a1.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0031_zpsd03c81a1.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0032_zps5c2cf516.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0032_zps5c2cf516.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0033_zpsd2838128.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0033_zpsd2838128.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0034_zps40e39040.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0034_zps40e39040.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0035_zpsda0de3b2.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0035_zpsda0de3b2.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0036_zps7c1e56fa.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0036_zps7c1e56fa.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0037_zps468b34ea.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0037_zps468b34ea.jpg.html)
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Oh, but nothing perfidious about Albion; the English are the finest people who ever graced humanity.
It was the French who came up with the term...I'll say no more.
If you're ever over here (whether winter or summer), let me know - I'd be delighted to buy you a pint. The same goes for all of the other charming folk on here.
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Well, I think this'll be my last auction update of the day, and so I'll pick up again tomorrow.
This went for $15,500; I'm guessing it's because it has only 6 miles on the odometer.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0041_zps212f0d67.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0041_zps212f0d67.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0042_zps7ced48e2.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0042_zps7ced48e2.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0043_zps6c763cdd.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0043_zps6c763cdd.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0044_zps0f40bc14.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0044_zps0f40bc14.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0045_zps76788f09.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0045_zps76788f09.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0046_zps9ef09b27.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0046_zps9ef09b27.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0047_zpse87ba40e.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0047_zpse87ba40e.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0048_zpsb0c96f2e.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0048_zpsb0c96f2e.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0049_zpsa989d42b.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0049_zpsa989d42b.jpg.html)
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I wonder if this big sales event suffered for the lack of a sysadmin...
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I wonder if this big sales event suffered for the lack of a sysadmin...
The sale's only half over.
There was just now posted a report in the newspaper that despite everything being unorganized, all went well.
<<<lives among people who can organize themselves informally without government guidance.
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If anyone wants to check it out, the History Channel has a couple of Top Gear
goobers hosts at the auction right now.
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The 1.3-mile Cameo pickup sold for $140,000.
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At Lambrecht Chevrolet auction, bids high for rides into history
http://www.omaha.com/article/20130928/NEWS/130928682/1685#at-lambrecht-chevrolet-auction-bids-high-for-rides-into-history
A review of the first day--there's a second day coming up, today--in which a lot of things are finally explained, such as why that 1958 truck was considered the "gem" of the sale, or why the dealer did things the way he did them, and how much the auction is bringing.
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Here's the thing for bidding online for today's offerings; most aren't really interested in bidding, but again, as the link for the first day, it gives photographs and a history of each item.
https://www.proxibid.com/asp/Catalog.asp?aid=68562
This at the moment appears the cheapest item on the bill; a mere $90 for a "1946/47 Ford two door beige sedan."
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0051_zps82690888.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0051_zps82690888.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0052_zps4da4e53d.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0052_zps4da4e53d.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0053_zpsdb8b6507.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0053_zpsdb8b6507.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0054_zpsd2794952.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0054_zpsd2794952.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0055_zps59c55f50.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0055_zps59c55f50.jpg.html)
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This fetched $2,750; I swear, we have the best car salesmen in the world, out here in Nebraska.
I'll bet a salesman from Connecticut or Maryland couldn't get fifty bucks for this.
If the brain-damaged primitive's former employer ever sees one of their salesmen lagging, instead of sending them to some seminar to learn how to sell, maybe they should just send them out on a pheasant- or deer-hunting trip to the Sandhills of Nebraska, to pick up pointers from us.
Anyway, it's described as a "1950 Studebaker Suicide Sedan."
Surely that's not its official model name.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0071_zpsf059fb57.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0071_zpsf059fb57.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0072_zps7838b1e6.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0072_zps7838b1e6.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0073_zps4ca39e91.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0073_zps4ca39e91.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0074_zps7a72e3bd.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0074_zps7a72e3bd.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0075_zps229d8f36.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0075_zps229d8f36.jpg.html)
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Attention, Chris_, sir.
I know yours is a 1963, but how's this 1958 Ford Fairlane 2-door sedan compare with it?
<<<not an expert on cars.
Mileage on odometer's 8,493, and it sold for $2,000.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0081_zpsa218f9df.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0081_zpsa218f9df.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0082_zpsdd52ad73.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0082_zpsdd52ad73.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0083_zps195639c6.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0083_zps195639c6.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0084_zps1b4dda7d.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0084_zps1b4dda7d.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0085_zps06f35dec.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0085_zps06f35dec.jpg.html)
You know, they made it a point to widely advertise that none of these motor vehicles were cleaned up prior to exhibition and sale; they were simply just dragged out of the pasture and placed in order.
I personally think that maybe if they'd at least run a garden hose over them, they might've gotten a little bit more for them.
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You know, all these lurking guests--of course they're welcome--from northern New Jersey might be wondering who the Hell franksolich is, as he doesn't know a damned thing about cars, and probably doesn't strike them as being particularly bright in other areas too.
I'll admit I don't know a whole lot about cars, but probably I know more than what I'm letting on.
It's in my professional best interests that the primitives from Skins's island think franksolich is stupid, and so I take great pains to cultivate that image. After all, there's nothing the primitives would like better, than to get their greasy hands on franksolich and hang him out on a barbed wire fence to burn in the heat of the sun.
Anyway, unlike most out here on the eastern foothills of the mighty Sandhills of Nebraska, I'm not into big vehicles. I prefer small, low-slung cars whose underside almost touches the ground. This of course means my biggest automotive repair bills involve replacing bent tie-rods and broken axles (because I don't necessarily just drive on roads), but there's an advantage that far, far outweighs that disadvantage.
The winds of Nebraska even outside of the Sandhills are strong, and relentless.
<<<the only person I know around here who's never been blown off a road.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills/0024_zpsb40c4df5.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills/0024_zpsb40c4df5.jpg.html)
franksolich learned how to drive when circa 14 years old, and I worked at the local drive-in movie theater in the heart of the Sandhills. There was much nervousness about teaching me to drive, because many people don't think a deaf person should be driving anyway. As a result, I was a little behind my peers in learning.
I learned to drive using a Korean War-surplus jeep kept out at the drive-in. When I say "kept out," I mean it was kept out.....for decades....in the elements all the time, never under cover. It was a vehicle much older than I was, and by the time I first drove it, much of the floor had been rusted out, the windshield was just a frame, the gauges on the "dashboard" were all broken, and the seat was bare bed-springs. The steering-shaft must've been rusted, because it was harder than a son-of-a-bitch, to steer.
It had good tires, though.
I drove it all over the gully-infested, rattlesnake-infested, burning-hot terrain of the Sandhills, whose terrain makes the lunar landscape look as smooth and easy and troublefree as any expressway in New Jersey.
The below isn't it, but it's pretty close to the way that jeep looked:
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0025_zpsfe160c85.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0025_zpsfe160c85.jpg.html)
But really, cars aren't my thing; as long as all four wheels spin in the same direction, I'm cool, copacetic, with it.
I dunno much more else about them. Below's an old family photograph, taken in South Dakota, years and years before I was born (I was a very late child); that was the family car then, but I myself of course would have no memories of it.
I have no idea what kind of car it was, but it must've been a bitch changing the tires.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/southdakota_zps8ec8e2c0.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/southdakota_zps8ec8e2c0.jpg.html)
Now, everybody's always curious what franksolich looks like, the problem being that many of those curious are also primitives lurking here with malicious motives in mind. They want nothing more than to get their oily hands on franksolich, and string him up on the nearest tree.
So I take care to post only blurry, indistinct photographs of myself, in this case one of myself feeding the livestock circa the time Alphonse Capote Gore was running for president.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/summer-a_zpsb2aadd84.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/summer-a_zpsb2aadd84.jpg.html)
Among other possibly pertinent information, yes, I have a four-year college degree and then some; I lived in northern New Jersey for two years after graduation from college, and spent a couple of years wandering around the socialist paradises of the workers and peasants.....on my own dime, no one else's.
So to our guests from northern New Jersey--and oh my, there's been so many of them--this is your host.
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(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0071_zpsf059fb57.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0071_zpsf059fb57.jpg.html)
That's either a Champion, a Commander, or a Land Cruiser. I've always liked the bullet-nosed Studebakers, and think they look great with the front bumper removed.
I wonder how long the passenger half of the windshield has been broken out, and what the floors looks like.
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Attention, Chris_, sir.
I know yours is a 1963, but how's this 1958 Ford Fairlane 2-door sedan compare with it?
<<<not an expert on cars.
Mileage on odometer's 8,493, and it sold for $2,000.
{snip}
You know, they made it a point to widely advertise that none of these motor vehicles were cleaned up prior to exhibition and sale; they were simply just dragged out of the pasture and placed in order.
I personally think that maybe if they'd at least run a garden hose over them, they might've gotten a little bit more for them.
Well maybe to a barn / field car purist that would constitute an 'initial restoration'. :-)
Check out this cherry Cameo Pickup > http://www.hemmings.com/classifieds/dealer/chevrolet/cameo/1586384.html
Now that is in nice restored condition and apparently a steal at only $49,900. Coach you would turn some heads in that I am sure. :rotf:
Looks like you are correct in your assessment that someone is awfully good at Selling Snow Cones to Eskimos. It is always a lot easier to invest a boat load of money into a classic restoration than it is to get it out. There is always one more one of a kind out there somewhere and the greater fool theory never seems to operate on specialty vehicles. It is more often where do you get parts and repairs that don't cost an arm and a leg if you don't own an auto repair business complete with metal fabrication and machine shop. Of course to some money is no object.
Once saw a guy have a Chevy Nova totally restored that was all but back to iron oxide because he wanted to have a car like the one he first had sex in. I suspect he may have been all alone at that time judging by the condition of the vehicle he chose to restore and the amount of money he spent. It wasn't the actual vehicle mind you, just one that he had seen 'sitting in a field' that reminded him of it. I took it as proof of the old saying excessive self gratification makes you foolish.
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That's either a Champion, a Commander, or a Land Cruiser. I've always liked the bullet-nosed Studebakers, and think they look great with the front bumper removed.
I wonder how long the passenger half of the windshield has been broken out, and what the floors looks like.
The body style is 49/50/51/52(?)
Straight 6 cylinder ....it's a Champion.
V8......it's Commander.
Land Cruiser......I THINK(?) the back glass goes from the back of the front door all the way round to the back of the other front door. The back glass is in 3 pieces, divided by thin strip of chrome.
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The body style is 49/50/51/52(?)
Straight 6 cylinder ....it's a Champion.
V8......it's Commander.
Land Cruiser......I THINK(?) the back glass goes from the back of the front door all the way round to the back of the other front door. The back glass is in 3 pieces, divided by thin strip of chrome.
Dad, is that you? :cheersmate: :-)
You are right on the back glass on the Land Cruiser being different. I just can't remember what is different about it.
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I have no idea what kind of car it was, but it must've been a bitch changing the tires.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/southdakota_zps8ec8e2c0.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/southdakota_zps8ec8e2c0.jpg.html)
NASH RAMBLER.....called "The Bathtub Car".....front seats laid all the way down to form a nice bed. It was quite the rage with the lovers of the day.
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It's been fascinating, doing anthropological and sociological observations this past week, when there's been more non-Nebraskans up here, than Nebraskans.
On the whole, our guests have been pretty well-behaved.
But given all the tickets law-enforcement has handed out for alcohol violations, I suspect many places are going to have a tax-reduction this year, all this dough collected from outsiders overwhelming the public treasury.
I could never understand that; how hard is it for someone to abide by the laws of a place he's visiting?
And our alcohol laws are easy and straightforward; one can purchase beer and alcohol anywhere between 6:00 a.m. and 1:00 a.m. by state law (although some counties have an earlier closing time, and Omaha and Lincoln can stay open until 2:00 a.m.)
That's nineteen hours out of a twenty-four-hour day.
Geezuz, how much more time of the day does one need, to drink?
One can consume beer and liquor only inside the establishment where it's purchased, or on private property; no alcohol allowed on federal, state, county, or city property even though they're public areas.
How hard is it, to respect that?
I dunno what it is, that gives people the idea they can do anything they want to do, in Nebraska.
The worst are the people from New England, New York, Pennsylvania, and.....California.
The most respectful seem to be people from any of the southern states, although Alabamians can get tedious, in all their whining about how "cold" it is here.
Those from the other Great Plains states--North Dakota, South Dakota, Kansas, Oklahoma, and Texas--face a similar problem, and understanding, don't try to pull anything.
Those from the mountain states--Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, Colorado, Utah, and New Mexico--know our nature (the nature of Sandhillsians), and take especial care to be respectful.
But I wouldn't call New England a hotbed of genteelity and good manners.
With all due respect to you, sir, and NHSparky, of course. Not so much to vesta.
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NASH RAMBLER.....called "The Bathtub Car".....front seats laid all the way down to form a nice bed. It was quite the rage with the lovers of the day.
I took my driver's test on a Nash Rambler that looked a lot like the '57 wagon below, three on the tree, back when they made you stop on a hill without the parking brake and start back up without rolling back. You had to know how to use the clutch no if' and's or but's.
(http://oldcarandtruckpictures.com/AmericanMotors/1957_Nash_Rambler_Cross_Country-nov11.jpg)
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Geezuz, how much more time of the day does one need, to drink?
Some people just can't seem to have fun without alcohol.
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Attention, Chris_, sir.
I know yours is a 1963, but how's this 1958 Ford Fairlane 2-door sedan compare with it?
<<<not an expert on cars.
I think the Fairlane was a trim level of the full-sized Ford. I'm not that familiar with the earlier models and it gets a little confusing before 1961.
That one looks like it needs everything replaced on it... I wouldn't have touched that one with a ten-foot pole unless I had a few spare cars for parts.
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Some people just can't seem to have fun without alcohol.
The guy from Alabama who's camping here in a tent--the two from Illinois and the one from Texas consist of two recreational vehicles and one pick-up truck with camper--seems enamoured of his booze, but he had no problem understanding, and complying with, our laws.
When he first came here and inquired, I illuminated him that there's only two bars (beer and liquor), one restaurant (beer and liquor), and one convenience store (beer only) in the whole county, where one can buy the stuff for off-site (i.e., on private property) consumption.
The county laws follow the state law, in that shut-off time is 1:00 a.m.
However, one bar closes at 10:00 p.m., the other at 11:00 p.m. The convenience store closes at 10:00 p.m. The restaurant closes at midnight.
Now, that may not sound like a whole lot of availability, but one has to recall that there's more deer around here, than people. We're sparsely populated, and what's here serves the existing residents well.
Upon learning this stuff, he's been very careful to run to the convenience store in town before ten (prices at the other places are higher) to stock up.
He's not like people from Connecticut or Maryland who at 3:00 a.m. suddenly start whining, "Oh, I need beer, and these hicks out here won't sell me beer....."
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Some people just can't seem to have fun without alcohol.
You say that like it's a bad thing.
:drunksailor:
<--- limits drinking to after 6pm.
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Okay, I've been to auctions before, but remember, I can't hear, and so rarely "get it."
What's this mean?
PASSED
This lot was not sold. You may be able to bid on this item if the auctioneer offers the lot again.
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The auction's still going on (circa 2:45 p.m.) even though the sun's setting.
It's not done yet, but as far as I can see, this is today's top-dollar item, a 1964 Chevrolet C10 pick-up truck that went for $27,000:
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0091_zps36dc61f6.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0091_zps36dc61f6.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0092_zps08c28008.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0092_zps08c28008.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0093_zpsd38c061d.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0093_zpsd38c061d.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0094_zps188c5f58.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0094_zps188c5f58.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0095_zps976f76c5.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0095_zps976f76c5.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0096_zps6e40c385.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0096_zps6e40c385.jpg.html)
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Okay, I've been to auctions before, but remember, I can't hear, and so rarely "get it."
What's this mean?
Either nobody bid on the item, the minimum bid was not reached, or the seller pulled the item (perhaps temporarily) from the auction, for whatever reason.
I'm sure there might be more reasons, but that's the only times I've ever seen anything like that.
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Either nobody bid on the item, the minimum bid was not reached, or the seller pulled the item (perhaps temporarily) from the auction, for whatever reason.
I'm sure there might be more reasons, but that's the only times I've ever seen anything like that.
I wondered, because that $27,000 half-truck just above, had been put on hold yesterday, and sold today.
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Well, darkness is descending, and the sale's still going on.
This 1936 Ford pick-up truck went for $4,900.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0101_zps0fd7b260.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0101_zps0fd7b260.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0102_zps48a99e36.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0102_zps48a99e36.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0103_zpsae846b95.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0103_zpsae846b95.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0104_zps40bcec5f.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0104_zps40bcec5f.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0105_zpsb5a678e4.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0105_zpsb5a678e4.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0106_zps57064dfb.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0106_zps57064dfb.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/0107_zps3817acaf.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/0107_zps3817acaf.jpg.html)
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fool <----> money
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And this 1942 Chevrolet Special Deluxe 4-door sedan went for.....$550.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/01101_zps3044bbe2.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/01101_zps3044bbe2.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/01102_zpsc0547cb6.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/01102_zpsc0547cb6.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/01103_zps97ae2d04.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/01103_zps97ae2d04.jpg.html)
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fool <----> money
Uh huh.
But at least they're not from the Sandhills.
Anyway, this is the last item on the bill, but it's a ways away from being sold; maybe a couple more hours or something.
1989 Chevrolet 1/2 ton pick-up truck, current bid $1,600.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/070_zps134373f4.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/070_zps134373f4.jpg.html)
.....and I think that's the last photograph of the auction I'll post.
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I went to see if any of this changed the google search for the brain-damaged primitive, but it didn't.
But I wonder why the image of myself "playing" golf shows up on his images.
<<<doesn't like to be associated with narrow-minded bigots.
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fool <----> money
Bingo.
:jacked2:
Hey take a look at this DU thread. Fuelish to the max with limited appeal unless you like car/ fuel stuff.
http://upload.democraticunderground.com/112754153
sorry for the interruption and a caution that it is a long technical thread with lots of egos. :fuelfire:
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ABC TV News had about a minute segment on the auction tonight....talked to a couple of people from foreign lands and did a pan shot of the crowd....BIG CROWD......big crowd.
I've been thinking, dangerous I know but still it cost me nothing. Could the old man have been doing this to reduce his income tax burden every year and at the same time building himself a tax free retirement fund. He subtracted the cost of the cars from his gross which reduced his net income......knowing that if he held the cars long enough they would increase in value until that increase would more than cover his expense and inflation giving him a profit on his investment......and knowing that in the end he could probably sell most of the cars for cash.
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And this 1942 Chevrolet Special Deluxe 4-door sedan went for.....$550.
That's a bargain, if you've got a car you're trying to restore, and need some parts.
A pair of reproduction fiberglass fenders for this car sell for over what the entire car brought.
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ABC TV News had about a minute segment on the auction tonight....talked to a couple of people from foreign lands and did a pan shot of the crowd....BIG CROWD......big crowd.
I've been thinking, dangerous I know but still it cost me nothing. Could the old man have been doing this to reduce his income tax burden every year and at the same time building himself a tax free retirement fund. He subtracted the cost of the cars from his gross which reduced his net income......knowing that if he held the cars long enough they would increase in value until that increase would more than cover his expense and inflation giving him a profit on his investment......and knowing that in the end he could probably sell most of the cars for cash.
I heard of a farmer who use to do that with pickups. Leave them in the field and keep depreciating them rather than sell them. What ever works I guess.
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ABC TV News had about a minute segment on the auction tonight....talked to a couple of people from foreign lands and did a pan shot of the crowd....BIG CROWD......big crowd.
Well, the land is finally emptying this morning, leaving the cornstalks by themselves, and the pumpkins sitting around ready to gather some frost. The fowls are enjoying their last few days of peace and quiet.
(http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y223/dummiedestroyer/road%20trip/birds4_zps34038101.jpg) (http://s6.photobucket.com/user/dummiedestroyer/media/road%20trip/birds4_zps34038101.jpg.html)
I had four people camping here for the car auction; the two guys and their recreational vehicles from Texas just took off for home. They hadn't gotten anything from the sale, but said coming here was worth their while, for a diversion from work back home.
The guy in the pick-up truck with camper is getting ready to go back home to Illinois (it's just before 6:00 a.m. central time here); he too hadn't gotten anything, but still said it was worth it, as this apparently was a once-in--a-lifetime phenomenon.
The guy from Alabama's still sleeping in his car down by the river (rather than in his tent), but he plans to leave sometime later today. He's from Dothan, Alabama, and I'd hoped to have more conversation with him, as I've always been fascinated by Dothan (and Milledgeville, Georgia), and would like to visit it some day, much as other people would ike to visit Disneyland or Yellowstone.
He'd made five, six, bids on some vehicles, but got overwhelmed early.
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As mentioned earlier, I’m not a car person, but this big sale this past weekend brought back some dusty memories, of franksolich’s first car. I got it when I was 17 years old, and it was a used Gremlin. I disremember how much I paid for it, but it was wholly in cash. Given the times, it was most certainly no more than three figures.
(http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y223/dummiedestroyer/gremlin_zps174bdfb0.jpg) (http://s6.photobucket.com/user/dummiedestroyer/media/gremlin_zps174bdfb0.jpg.html)
There were many who insisted that because of its extremely light back half, the Gremlin was not suitable for Nebraska, especially Nebraska in winter--and that included not only out in the Sandhills, but in Lincoln (too crowded) and Omaha (too many steep hills) too, both of them cities where ploughing after snow was a sordid joke.
However, I don’t recall any particular problems in that area; this was perhaps because I’d learned to drive using an old jeep that had only four moving parts and none of the luxuries, bouncing up and down the rough raw terrain of the Sandhills. From the very first time I ever drove, I grasped the rather sensible--but oft-forgotten--notion that once one competently grasped what a vehicle could do, and couldn’t do, and respected that, all would work out.
I wish I could tell stories of the Gremlin, but there aren’t any stories. It was just a motor vehicle with four wheels that spun the same direction, convenient for getting me from one place to another. It’d probably be superfluous to mention that during the five years I owned it, I never tried out the radio or “sound system.â€
There were two constant problems with it.
I don’t know the names of car parts, but there was some plastic thingamajig associated with the clutch that resembled a “figure 8,†through which apparently the rods of the clutch went. It was plastic, and always breaking. I have no idea who the genius was, deciding it should be plastic rather than metal.
And also, the oil valve cover gasket (that name, I know) was always blowing out, lasting no more than a few thousand miles each time. This splattered oil all over the engine, making it necessary to have the engine cleaned too.
The oil valve cover was bolted down with four bolts; I suspect that if six had been used, this wouldn’t have happened, or happened as much.
The very last year I had it, when in college, the big back window got shattered. I’d lifted it to insert a 16-gallon keg of Coors beer into the back, and once that was inside, turned around, letting the window come down on its own. Unfortunately, I hadn’t placed the beer keg all the way inside, and the window slammed down on its edge, getting shattered to pieces.
As it was apparent the Gremlin was coming to the end of its road (it lasted one more year), rather than paying $400 for a real window, I paid $100 to have a garage mechanic custom-cut, and insert, a piece of plexiglass into the frame.
It was then that it occurred to me this was a case where it’d been better if American Motors had gone “cheap†on the back window, instead of stinting on the clutch or oil valve cover.
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"bump" to keep on the front page, lest the brain-damaged primitive fears we've forgotten him, like his fellow primitives have.
<<<never forgets.
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I always like the looks of the Gremlin, never had one, but I did have a Ford Pinto. :-)
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I always like the looks of the Gremlin, never had one, but I did have a Ford Pinto. :-)
I liked the look of the other American Motors product of the time, more.
I forget the model name, but it looked like a pregnant egg.
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I liked the look of the other American Motors product of the time, more.
I forget the model name, but it looked like a pregnant egg.
I suddenly remembered.
Pacer.
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I suddenly remembered.
Pacer.
Don't forget that other fine example of stylish AMC engineering, The Matador:
(http://imageshack.com/scaled/800x600/401/v4si.jpg)
This was my first car, mine was green, as ugly as the beast in this picture.
Had a nice big back seat, though! Came in handy in high school. :-)
Paid $400 for it in 1984, drove it for 9 months until it spun a bearing and I drove it to the junkyard where it died on the spot. Guy gave me $30 for it.
.
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I suddenly remembered.
Pacer.
As featured in the Mike Meyers movie "Wayne's World".
(http://onscreencars.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/waynes_world_pacer.jpg)
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Dark days indeed.
That Matador looks a lot like the Marlin down the street. It's still for sale.
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Don't forget that other fine example of stylish AMC engineering, The Matador:
(http://imageshack.com/scaled/800x600/401/v4si.jpg)
This was my first car, mine was green, as ugly as the beast in this picture.
Had a nice big back seat, though! Came in handy in high school. :-)
Paid $400 for it in 1984, drove it for 9 months until it spun a bearing and I drove it to the junkyard where it died on the spot. Guy gave me $30 for it.
My father preferred cars from American Motors; I'm not sure why, but probably he was just good friends with an American Motors dealer somewhere.
The family had other cars too, but the AMC car was the "good car."
The red 1969 Rebel station wagon was great.
This was before my time, but from old family photographs, it appears that he favored Packards, Nashes, and Studebakers. The parents were middle-aged (and with lots of kids) when they moved to Nebraska; before then, they'd lived in New York City and never owned a car. I have no memories of those long-ago vehicles; they were replaced often because allegedly my father was a lousy driver, and always wrecked them.
I say "allegedly," because in my own experience and observation, I considered my father a really good driver--but of course I knew him late in life, and he might've been different when younger.
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God, it will be nice when this thread moves away from cars.
Lentil bread is more interesting than cars.
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God, it will be nice when this thread moves away from cars.
Lentil bread is more interesting than cars.
With a nice bowl of stone soup.
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God, it will be nice when this thread moves away from cars.
Lentil bread is more interesting than cars.
Oh now, but the brain-damaged primitive's always been into cars, not lentils.
And the purpose of this thread is to teach the brain-damaged primitive, who checks it out every day, humility and how to get along with people.
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Could the old man have been doing this to reduce his income tax burden every year and at the same time building himself a tax free retirement fund. He subtracted the cost of the cars from his gross which reduced his net income......knowing that if he held the cars long enough they would increase in value until that increase would more than cover his expense and inflation giving him a profit on his investment......and knowing that in the end he could probably sell most of the cars for cash.
John, sir, you deserve to be a millionaire, with what you know.
I'd been inquiring, curious as to why the guy never tried to re-sell trade-ins, and why he let good cars go to pot in the arctic Sandhills winters and saharan Sandhills summers.
What you described isn't exactly what he was doing, but it's pretty close to what he was doing.
That the cars were accumulating and deteriorating bothered him not the least; there were, uh, considerable tax advantages to letting this happen. If he'd continued doing business the way other automotive dealers do business, he would've ended up a seven-figure millionaire.
But because he did what he did, strictly for tax purposes, he actually ended up an eight-figure millionaire.
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All that stuff about junk cars has threatened this thread with oblivion.
I'm still hopeful that Doug Bulna will return to the DUmp with his lunacy in full flower.
The best outcome would be for Doug and Amber to strike up a dialogue in the DUmp Lounge.
He's her type.
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The car sale last weekend was generally the topic around here, although according to newspaper reports, nearly all of the old vehicles have now been removed, and the field's sprouting up soybeans.
What I found incredulous were the reports of traffic. I wasn't aware traffic was that heavy, because the two times I'd driven to Pierce were during "off hours," just before the showing on Friday and the selling on Saturday and Sunday.
This is what a heavily-travelled highway in the Sandhills usually looks like:
(http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y223/dummiedestroyer/hyt03.jpg) (http://s6.photobucket.com/user/dummiedestroyer/media/hyt03.jpg.html)
This photograph wasn't taken in the Sandhills--I think it was taken just outside Ellicott City, Maryland--but this is apparently what it looked like beginning Friday morning:
(http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y223/dummiedestroyer/tj02.jpg) (http://s6.photobucket.com/user/dummiedestroyer/media/tj02.jpg.html)
The newspapers allege there was bumper-to-bumper traffic, and that it was taking some people twenty-five minutes to get a mere 17 miles.
Geezuz.
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I'm curious as to whether Gearhart Chevrolet and other GM dealers will stay open during the government shutdown.
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All that stuff about junk cars has threatened this thread with oblivion.
I'm still hopeful that Doug Bulna will return to the DUmp with his lunacy in full flower.
The best outcome would be for Doug and Amber to strike up a dialogue in the DUmp Lounge.
He's her type.
If his ass wasn't fired then that is the stupidest dealership owner ever.
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Well, the results are now public.
The first day of the sale (Sautrday), when the "big items" were auctioned off, brought $1,951,030.
The second day of the sale (Sunday), the leftovers, brought $2,841,425.
Almost five million dollars; $4,792,455 to be exact.
According to proxibid, it was the largest internet auction in which they've been involved, with 5,507 registered bidders. Internet bids won 37% of the total.
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Last night, in a casual conversation with law-enforcement, who knew the guy personally (he's still alive, but 96 years old), he alleged that he was a nasty old grouch who was curtly rude to most who approached him.
If he didn't like the looks of someone, that someone wasn't going to get a car from him.
And the cop said that was about two-thirds, three-quarters, of the people who tried.
Okay, so perhaps he wasn't Mr. Sunshine.....but on the other hand, he sold thousands of Chevrolets 1946-1996, and even without this auction, he's going to die worth into eight figures.....having arisen from poor dirt-farmer boy to a "20/52" after the second world war (veterans were paid twenty bucks a week for a full year after discharge).
I for one think he did rather well, for allegedly being a curmudgeon.
I hadn't paid attention before, but apparently his operation was pretty tiny; it was just himself, his wife answering the telephone and filing the files, and a mechanic.
Pierce has a little over 1,600 people, which in this area means the urban mass can support two or three automotive dealerships. Most small-town dealerships in this area have the owner, three or four salesmen, and three or four mechanics, a secretary, and a file clerk. Janitorial work's contracted out, and the mechanics clean the interiors of used cars to make them saleable.
So this was a pretty little itty-bitty operation.
The mechanic lived out on the farm where the used vehicles were kept, but he died about the time the owner called it quits, back in 1996. That's when most of the vandalism and theft started; during the Clinton adminisration, which itself was not squeamish about vandalizing and stealing.
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I'm curious as to whether Gearhart Chevrolet and other GM dealers will stay open during the government shutdown.
You have a darn fine point there GOBUCKS. Let's face it, this thread was car jacked, but for all the right reasons, cars are more interesting than lentil soup. :tongue:
Back in the day of CB I use to talk to a babe who went by the handle Red Pacer 'cause she drove a red Pacer. She is probably a great grand mother today. :thatsright:
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Back in the day of CB I use to talk to a babe who went by the handle Red Pacer 'cause she drove a red Pacer. She is probably a great grand mother today. :thatsright:
If the grasswipe primitive were Red Pacer, you'd need to stick ten or fifteen more greats on there.
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You have a darn fine point there GOBUCKS. Let's face it, this thread was car jacked, but for all the right reasons, cars are more interesting than lentil soup. :tongue:
This thread wasn't carjacked; it's meant to keep the brain-damaged primitive in the front and fore until he goes to Skins's island and explains and apologizes to the primitives for his rectal apertury.
As is Tucker's thread.
Tucker's thread is meant to discuss the repercussons of the brain-damaged primitive's childish tantrums and his employment situation; this thread is meant to discuss anything of interest to the brain-damaged primitive (which includes cars). He comes and reads both threads every day.
I can assure the brain-damaged primitive that once he explains and apologizes to his fellow primitives, both threads will very quickly wither away to the back pages, his stupidity not forgiven but at least forgotten.
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this thread is meant to discuss anything of interest to the brain-damaged primitive (which includes cars).
Agree! But cars? Cars are only marginally more interesting than ice hockey and soccer.
I'm sure that our pal Doug is interested in a lot more than stupid cars.
How about mustaches, or glass eyes?
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Yeah. There's only ever been one of those, but I forget her name.
She was the first wife of the sniffing primitive, who dumped her for some fat broad.
Originally she went my Mrs. Sniffa, then became Phoenix Rising - then became completely forgotten by the other primitives.
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Agree! But cars? Cars are only marginally more interesting than ice hockey and soccer.
I was drug along to watch a professional hockey game once. I would be hard pressed to think of something that was more boring. The only thing that was remotely interesting about the whole endeavor was watching the drunks try not to piss on themselves in the bathroom, while avoiding the huge pile of empties thrown into a corner.
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I was drug along to watch a professional hockey game once. I would be hard pressed to think of something that was more boring. The only thing that was remotely interesting about the whole endeavor was watching the drunks try not to piss on themselves in the bathroom, while avoiding the huge pile of empties thrown into a corner.
The only spectator sport more boring than hockey is golf.
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The only spectator sport more boring than hockey is golf.
I don't do spectator sports to begin with. It blows my mind that anybody can watch golf.
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The only advantage to soccer over ice hockey is that you can see the soccer ball.
To me they're both Chinese fire drills.
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I don't do spectator sports to begin with. It blows my mind that anybody can watch golf.
It used to drive me nuts, my dad would come home on the weekends and watch golf on the TV all day. Awful stuff.
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It used to drive me nuts, my dad would come home on the weekends and watch golf on the TV all day. Awful stuff.
It could have been worse. He could have watched soccer.
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It could have been worse. He could have watched soccer.
The only time you could watch soccer on television during the 80's was during the Olympics or if you had cable.
Good thing we didn't have cable and the Olympics was every four years.
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The only spectator sport more boring than hockey is golf.
Professional bowling and fishing tournaments rank up there, too.
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Professional bowling and fishing tournaments rank up there, too.
Modern television has surpassed even that... they now broadcast card games.
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Bowling and fishing are much better on TV than ice hockey or soccer.
Bowling gets over with pretty quickly, and in fishing they only show the highlights.
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Bowling and fishing are much better on TV than ice hockey or soccer.
Bowling gets over with pretty quickly, and in fishing they only show the highlights.
Bill Dance fishing bloopers are pretty funny.
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Back to the reason we're in this thread--kicked for the morning shift.
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The only spectator sport more boring than hockey is golf.
Try watching Cricket, the only sport where you can play for three days and end up in a tie. :yawn:
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Try watching Cricket, the only sport where you can play for three days and end up in a tie. :yawn:
Used to watch cricket when I was in the M.E., and again when I was in England. Even with the rule book and people trying to explain it... :???:
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I had some Indian kid in my office telling me how happy he was to find a cricket team in town to play with.
Yeah, okay. Whatever. :rofl:
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I happen to enjoy watching card games on TV (Poker). I think it's exciting.
What I hate about hockey on TV is, my eyes aren't so great. I cannot tell where the damned puck is.
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I happen to enjoy watching card games on TV (Poker). I think it's exciting.
What I hate about hockey on TV is, my eyes aren't so great. I cannot tell where the damned puck is.
He's the guy skating real fast.
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Breaking News (posting here to help keep thread alive) Shots Fired in DC. Capitol on Lockdown.
I can't believe I read through all these old car posts looking for news of Doug Bulna the DainBramaged that no longer works at Gearhart Chevrolet. :fuelfire:
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DB has some interesting history.
http://trademarks.breanlaw.com/78325173-jizz.html
Hmmmmmmmmm. That is rather interesting.
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Try watching Cricket, the only sport where you can play for three days and end up in a tie. :yawn:
For international tests make that five days and a draw ;)
It's something which one watches in a different way to sports like rugby or football (American or soccer), one can relax and ponder things.
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For international tests make that five days and a draw ;)
It's something which one watches in a different way to sports like rugby or football (American or soccer), one can relax and ponder things.
I fell asleep at a baseball game once. :-)
.
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Glass eyes.
I think it was GOBUCKS who suggested glass eyes as being a topic that'd interest the brain-damaged primitive, to keep him coming here to read the number one link when one googles his real-life name.
I've of course seen people with a glass eye, but never paid much attention.
But if the brain-damaged primitive has one, it's a sure thing that's the eye he uses, to see.
Some years ago, when I was manager of a privately-owned student union on the campus of the University of Nebraska, I used to hire the intellectually-challenged to bus tables in the food court.
Their guardians thought it'd be better to have a "professional' supervise them, in one of these programs where the clients were paid according to ability (at the time, anywhere from twenty-one cents an hour up to a dollar and four cents an hour), but I said no, I could handle it myself.
They were skeptical of the whole bit; a deaf person supervising retarded people, and that for only a few minutes a day? (I said I'd treat them just as I treated all the other employees.)
No way.
Working under me, these people got about seventy-five cents over the minimum wage, and benefits.
It was a bit more than I thought it'd be--I hadn't realized how "high-maintenance" the intellectually-challenged could be--but still, I did okay. And even though I always gave the image--a false one, but a necessary one--of being a nasty grouch, they all really liked me, and thought I was the horse's banana.
There was one guy, a dwarf, about fifty years old at the time, and pretty low-IQed, who had a glass eye.
That damned glass eye caused me more problems than if these people had been unionized.
I had a rule that there was to be no sitting down on the commode while one was on the clock; one was supposed to perform one's bodily ablutions at home, on one's own time. Everybody from the fifth-year engineering students to the table-clearers followed all my other rules (there weren't many of them), but it was a pain to get them to observe this rule.
Mike, for example, went in to perch himself maybe two or three times a week, having forgotten to do that at home.
I dunno how he did it, but many times he lost his glass eye--after the commode was already filled with paper and stuff.
The first time it happened, he said he'd reach in and fish it out; he was used to it.
Uh, no, I said.
I contacted his social worker, who advised, "Well, let him fish it out."
Uh, no, I said.
I applied a patch over where an eye'd be if he had an eye, and took him home.
This happened at least half a dozen times, and then his social worker came to visit me. "Let him fish it out; these things cost social services a mint to replace."
Uh, no, I said.
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I used to glue mine to the toe of my shoe, then go to dances.
I even have a couple spares, that way I can keep an eye out for trouble.
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Yes. Doug has one eye.
Don't know how the missing one was lost, but there you have it.
Doug sees a two-dimensional world.
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I dunno how he did it, but many times he lost his glass eye--after the commode was already filled with paper and stuff.
I don't have any professional experience being around retards, but I was around quite a few while in middle school (they were integrating them with regular students, for whatever reason). Certain ones I've been around had to 'see' what was going on while they were using the toilet; otherwise, they couldn't 'go'. Mirrors were generally provided for this purpose.
Perhaps Mike, with no mirror in sight, inadvertently dropped his glass eye in the toilet trying to 'see' what was going on, so that he could 'go'.
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For international tests make that five days and a draw ;)
It's something which one watches in a different way to sports like rugby or football (American or soccer), one can relax and ponder things.
Pondering for me usually takes place in the field with my dog, on the Ocean or a tree-stand.
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I went to a boxing match once, and a slow dance broke out. I had to go to a hockey game to see a fight break out. I went to a Canadian street dance during an ice storm and a hockey game broke out.
Televised darts is the most boring.
The next thing you know they will be televising croquet.
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I happen to enjoy watching card games on TV (Poker). I think it's exciting.
What I hate about hockey on TV is, my eyes aren't so great. I cannot tell where the damned puck is.
The only thing I enjoy about card games on television are Jennifer Tilly's breasts. (Sorry, Karin)
I agree with you on hockey. I don't know how those guys do it.
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(http://i237.photobucket.com/albums/ff68/kayaktn/dodge_zps167881f2.jpg) (http://s237.photobucket.com/user/kayaktn/media/dodge_zps167881f2.jpg.html)
Understated and restrained. Anyone have an idea what year/model this is?
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Understated and restrained. Anyone have an idea what year/model this is?
59 Dodge (Coronet, Lancer?). What a beautiful car.
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I was just thinking, the only sport that Doug Bulna can afford to play now is pocket pool.
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I was just thinking, the only sport that Doug Bulna can afford to play now is pocket pool.
Well, I just checked the radar map for northern New Jersey, and it appears to be a fine autumn day for the brain-damaged primitive; maybe he'll go out for a walk and contemplate on ways of improving himself, of getting along better with other people.
I'd suggest Dale Carnegie's How to Win Friends and Influence People as a start, and then one of those etiquette books by Emily Post or Amy Vanderbilt. Etiquette after all isn't just knowing the right fork to use or the right tie to wear; it has a great deal to do with treating others with grace and class and courtesy.
We had our second night of really big thunderstorms here in the eastern foothills of the Sandhills last night, and later today we're going to be hit by high winds coming from dutch508's place in the western foothills, on the other side of Nebraska.
There's lots of trees down here, but apparently the old property caretaker advised the current caretaker just to leave them lay until next year, as they aren't presenting any problems. I dunno where people get this stupid idea Nebraska doesn't have any trees; we probably have more trees than Ohio does.
In about a week or two, this place is going to look like Connecticut in autumn.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/county%20fair/downtheroad_zpsfb7421da.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/county%20fair/downtheroad_zpsfb7421da.jpg.html)
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Doug claims innocence and swears he will find out who hid the remote.
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Nice bridge. Depression era?
Hey, maybe Doug can be come a Navigator for Government Healthcare.
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It occurs to me I might've given the wrong impression about a long-ago social worker (the dwarf Mike is dead now); the social worker didn't mean for Mike to fish down in there, retrieve the glass eye, and then pop it back into his head.
He just meant for Mike to retrieve it, after which Mike had apparently been trained, ever since his first glass eye, to take it to a competent person, explain what happened, after which the competent person would deal with it, whatever needed done about it.
It was suggested to me that Mike had also been trained to take out his glass eye and give it to a competent person, to hold for him while he sat on the commode. The social worker suggested that competent person would be me, franksolich, as his boss and manager of the Reunion; I retorted that I was unwilling to hold someone's body part, and besides, Mike was supposed to be doing this personal chore at home, on his own time.
I suppose it's reasonable to call me "handicapped," having been born with no ears and being deaf, and I will admit that as a "handicapped" person, I have much less--much much less--patience with other handicapped people than non-handicapped people do. Their whining and helplessness and unwillingness to adapt makes the rest of us look bad.
I was of the opinion that Mike could've long ago been trained to sit on a commode without losing the glass eye.
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Nice bridge. Depression era?
According to an old stone marker, 1928.
The bridge isn't used much, because agricultural equipment's usually too large to pass over it, and so farmers and ranchers use a different, wider, newer one about half a mile away.
It's a low-maintenance bridge, however, and built to last a couple hundred years.
When it was first built, there was much argument about it, because it cost the county taxpayers a whooping $4,000.
However, since Nebraska's a red state, and not a corrupt machine-run blue state, every cent of that four thousand bucks went into the bridge. If we'd been a blue state, probably a thousand bucks would've been spent on labor and (inferior) materials, the rest of it going into pockets of Democrat favorites, and it probably wouldn't have lasted through 1948 or something.
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59 Dodge (Coronet, Lancer?). What a beautiful car.
I was guessing 1961. Indeed, what a beaut!
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Poor Doug Bulna! Can you imagine how a smile creased his puffy, walrus-like mug when he first read this post!
A pat on the back from the CalPig, the epitome of DUmp wisdom:
Response to DainBramaged (Original post)
Wed Aug 21, 2013, 09:16 PM
Star Member CaliforniaPeggy (105,433 posts)
1. That was an excellent move, my dear DainBramaged!
And then, and then, how quickly it all went to hell.
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August 21. I wonder how he's fared since then.
Nah, not really.
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Poor Doug Bulna! Can you imagine how a smile creased his puffy, walrus-like mug when he first read this post!
A pat on the back from the CalPig, the epitome of DUmp wisdom:
And then, and then, how quickly it all went to hell.
That was s-o-o-o-o-o-o good tht even six weeks later, one still feels the joy, the exuberance, of another Stalinist smackdown.
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Poor Doug Bulna! Can you imagine how a smile creased his puffy, walrus-like mug when he first read this post!
A pat on the back from the CalPig, the epitome of DUmp wisdom:
And then, and then, how quickly it all went to hell.
Calpig's post is actually my favorite one out of this whole ordeal, surpassing that of Doug's OP.
It's so assertively idiotic, I can't help but laugh at it every time I see it.
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Also posted in the other thread.
Bumping the count here.....watch the video, scroll down and look at all the great pictures of old cars....'57 Studebaker golden Hawk.... '55 Studebaker President Coup....fins, fins and more fins.
http://blog.flickr.net/en/2013/10/04/crafting-scenes-of-iconic-americana/
Amazingly good model builder ain't he.
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Well, here it is, Saturday morning in the eastern foothills of the Sandhills of Nebraska, about 1500 miles due west of where the brain-damaged one's at in northern New Jersey. I saw on the weather map last night that central New Jersey was apparently getting some autumnal rains, or at least sprinkles, and wondered if it'd move up, but it didn't.
It looks to be another fine autumn day for the brain-damaged primitive, a chance to take a leisurely stroll around his neighborhood, stopping in to exchange pleasantries with the local delicatessen owner, the butcher, the postmaster, the gas jockey, the five-and-dime clerk, the genial banker, the hot dog vender at the park, the cop on the corner, and the firemen playing checkers at the fire station; to help little old ladies cross the street, and to approvingly pat little children on the head.
The brain-damaged primitive's got to get out, and practice some human relations; it'd do him good.
The high winds forecast for this area never got here, perhaps changing direction and blowing up into South Dakota instead. However, it's obvious autumn's now here in the Sandhills, because when I got up at 5 a.m. and took a cup of coffee out to the back porch, I wasn't out there but five minutes before I came back inside.
The thermometer said 40 degrees, but upon checking accuweather, the "real feel" is 26 degrees.
I've been thinking about a reading-list that would be of use for the brain-damaged primitive so as to show him how to win friends and influence people. I never read it, but I imagine Norman Vincent Peale's The Power of Positive Thinking might be good.
Also, Bruce Barton's classic from the 1920s, which I have read, The Man Nobody Knows, might be of some use, although it has more to do with the advertising business than with ways and means of inspiring someone to become a better person. But what is the advertising business, if not a means of pleasing people?
Any biography of Ronald Reagan or Robert Dole, who came from poor backgrounds and pulled themselves up by their bootstraps, would be illluminating for him, too. It's a little late in the day for the brain-damaged primitive to hope to become president some day, or even just run for president, but even up until the moment one's about to slip from this time and place into the Eternal one, one should be striving to improve oneself.
My inspiration's always been T.E. Lawrence's The Seven Pillars of Wisdom; true, it's an adventure story, but chock-full of inspiration about how to get along with people, how to get others to like one.
I think today'd be a good day for the brain-damaged primitive to go to the library.
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I agree with frank on Doug reading some Norman Vincent Peale. He already has something in common with Vincent, which is that all his peers laugh at him.
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I agree with frank on Doug reading some Norman Vincent Peale. He already has something in common with Vincent, which is that all his peers laugh at him.
One magazine frequently found in homes when I was growing up was Guideposts magazine; perhaps the brain-damaged primitive should check that out, too. After all, it's one of the 30 top-selling magazines in the United States, and two million subscribers can't be all wrong.
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One magazine frequently found in homes when I was growing up was Guideposts magazine; perhaps the brain-damaged primitive should check that out, too. After all, it's one of the 30 top-selling magazines in the United States, and two million subscribers can't be all wrong.
You know, if Doug can get his life back on track, Guideposts might even be interested in his story. :rotf:
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You know, if Doug can get his life back on track, Guideposts might even be interested in his story. :rotf:
It reminds me of the time I submitted eleven of the CalPig primitive's "poems" to the Watch Tower magazine.
(<<<not equating mainstream Protestants with sects.)
Watch Tower magazine is the largest magazine in the world, and I figured the CalPig primitive deserved the widest coverage possible.
They never did reply; I think I was perhaps a little heavy-handed in my demand that the issue featuring her "poetry" should also have her mug on the front cover, so as to draw readers.
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I would have loved to have seen the look on the person's face who opened that letter. :lmao:
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It reminds me of the time I submitted eleven of the CalPig primitive's "poems" to the Watch Tower magazine.
(<<<not equating mainstream Protestants with sects.)
Watch Tower magazine is the largest magazine in the world, and I figured the CalPig primitive deserved the widest coverage possible.
They never did reply; I think I was perhaps a little heavy-handed in my demand that the issue featuring her "poetry" should also have her mug on the front cover, so as to draw readers.
I hate to criticise you...but as your nature is so full of human kindness, you end up being far too kind and nice to the DUmmies.
You provide them with eminently sensible advice, and then you do your best to launch CalPig's career as a poet.
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Frank, did you send the sexy poetry?
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I would have loved to have seen the look on the person's face who opened that letter.
It would have been nothing compared to the look when they read The Aching Seed.
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I would have loved to have seen the look on the person's face who opened that letter. :lmao:
At the photographs I suggested they use, or her poems?
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I hate to criticise you...but as your nature is so full of human kindness, you end up being far too kind and nice to the DUmmies.
You provide them with eminently sensible advice, and then you do your best to launch CalPig's career as a poet.
Oh, but I'd fully planned on taking my agent's cut, whatever it is agents get.
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At the photographs I suggested they use, or her poems?
The poems. Do you remember which of her selections you sent?
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Frank, did you send the sexy poetry?
It's been a long time now, but yeah, there was some sex in the CalPig poems I submitted (as her agent, not as the authoress).
<<<didn't even get a rejection slip.
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The poems. Do you remember which of her selections you sent?
Not any more; I just grabbed the first eleven she'd posted (over a long period of time) in the various writers' forums on both the old DU and the current DU. I do believe one of them was the itching seed "poem."
And if lurking primitives think there's something malicious about this, I carefully explained the origin of the poems (especially that I hadn't written them, but the CalPig primitive was somewhat, uh, more difficult to explain).
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Okay, this afternoon I sat down and read the latest autobiography by the Hollywood celebrity Debbie Reynolds; it's not a long book, and quick to read. It's mostly about the failure of her third marriage and dealing with financial catastrophe.
When the going gets tough, this lady apparently just keeps going.
I suggest the brain-damaged primitive put this book on his reading list; it's Unsinkable: A Memoir (Debbie Reynolds and Dorian Hannaway, 2013, HarperCollins), and since I got this book at the library way out here in the Sandhills of Nebraska, undoubtedly it's available at any library in urban northern New Jersey too.
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Speaking of the CalPig and her aching seed, here's an event I'm just sick about missing:
https://www.facebook.com/events/170249903154711/
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Speaking of the CalPig and her aching seed, here's an event I'm just sick about missing:
https://www.facebook.com/events/170249903154711/
Oh hell no. :rotf:
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fool <----> money
Some of these old trucks could be turned into seriously awesome chicken coops.
Cindie
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Speaking of the CalPig and her aching seed, here's an event I'm just sick about missing:
https://www.facebook.com/events/170249903154711/
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
One of the comments there:
The first time I read Peggy's poems I was a little freaked out.
The second time I read her poem I wanted to publish her.
I think everyone has a unique writer inside of themselves.
It's interesting see that come to light.
-Amethyst Black
Now if that just stopped at the end of the first line all would be well...
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Oh, but I'd fully planned on taking my agent's cut, whatever it is agents get.
You better hope they don't send you a bill. :-)
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Well, I checked the weather for what's happening in urban northern New Jersey today, and it looks to be another fine day in autumn for the brain-damaged primitive; one wonders if the leaves on the trees over there have started to change color yet.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/46t_zps9c6a8204.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/46t_zps9c6a8204.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/48t_zps638d6f53.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/48t_zps638d6f53.jpg.html)
Maybe while walking home from church this morning, the brain-damaged primitive'll be inspired by new ideas, chances and opportunities he's never seen before because of his closed mind, and begin putting them into action, slowly evolving into a better person.
Out here on the roof of Nebraska, we were supposed to get a touch of snow during the night, but all we got was a little rain and much fog.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/fog_zps0d12ed22.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/fog_zps0d12ed22.jpg.html)
The temperatures during the day have been agreeable, but the nights are starting to get colder. Excepting for during the short Indian summer that occurs every year, I imagine this past week was the last time this year I'll be able to have coffee and a cigarette out on the back porch.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/birds4_zps949d10ed.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/birds4_zps949d10ed.jpg.html)
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It's nearly time for the Sandhills to head south for warmer climes.
Perhaps Doug should follow their example and do the same.
I hear Venezuela has nice weather.
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It's nearly time for the Sandhills to head south for warmer climes.
Perhaps Doug should follow their example and do the same.
I hear Venezuela has nice weather.
Free healthcare to boot! :whistling:
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Free healthcare to boot! :whistling:
Actually, the brain-damaged primitive's more-pressing need is that for a barber and facial-hair-remover, if he hopes to get another job.
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Calpiggy is to erotica as.....as......as.....as.....I just can't think of anything far enough removed.
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Calpiggy is to erotica as.....as......as.....as.....I just can't think of anything far enough removed.
As a DUmmie and common sense or intelligence.
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Calpiggy is to erotica as.....as......as.....as.....I just can't think of anything far enough removed.
...As a fool and their money ?
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There's just something wrong about erotica being discussed at an event called "Poetry Stew", let alone the CalPig and that fat chick with the oxygen.
https://www.facebook.com/events/170249903154711/
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Okay, while sleeping last night, I thought of something else that might be of Great Benefit for the brain-damaged primitive in turning his life around.
During the 1920s, there was a fad called the "Coue Method," in which people repeated several times a day, either out loud or to themselves silently, "Every day in every way I'm getting better and better."
It sort of worked, I guess, because it was auto-suggesting to the subconscious, making the wish become reality.
I dunno why it's not done these days, but it wouldn't hurt for the brain-damaged primitive to at least try it.
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Okay, while sleeping last night, I thought of something else that might be of Great Benefit for the brain-damaged primitive in turning his life around.
During the 1920s, there was a fad called the "Coue Method," in which people repeated several times a day, either out loud or to themselves silently, "Every day in every way I'm getting better and better."
It sort of worked, I guess, because it was auto-suggesting to the subconscious, making the wish become reality.
I dunno why it's not done these days, but it wouldn't hurt for the brain-damaged primitive to at least try it.
Frank, unfortunately he will not take your advice. There is no help for the primitives.
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Frank, unfortunately he will not take your advice. There is no help for the primitives.
Kevorkian helped many liberals before he took a dirt nap himself.
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Okay, while sleeping last night, I thought of something else that might be of Great Benefit for the brain-damaged primitive in turning his life around.
During the 1920s, there was a fad called the "Coue Method," in which people repeated several times a day, either out loud or to themselves silently, "Every day in every way I'm getting better and better."
It sort of worked, I guess, because it was auto-suggesting to the subconscious, making the wish become reality.
I dunno why it's not done these days, but it wouldn't hurt for the brain-damaged primitive to at least try it.
The Senator from Minnesota when doing what he did best played a character on SNL based on your reference to the "Coue Method"...
[youtube=425,350]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-DIETlxquzY[/youtube]
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I was just thinking, during supper-time, about someone else from whom the brain-damaged primitive should gain some insight and inspiration, in the midst of his current woes; the first few chapters of the late William Shirer's The Nightmare Years: 1930-1940.
Probably the local libraries in urban northern New Jersey have the book, although franksolich owns all of Shirer's books personally.
Now, Shirer turned out a wimpish, hand-wringing fuddy-duddy in his later years, especially after he dumped his getting-older first wife for a younger chick, and his indignation at Ronald Reagan was laughably ridiculous, but that doesn't take away from that he did write some rather good books (good until he got to the self-pitying chapters).
Anyway, in 1930 Shirer was an up-and-coming foreign affairs correspondent for the awesome Chicago Tribune, then owned by the far-sighted Col. Robert McCormick. But then in 1932 he got fired, as were many foreign affairs reporters, in a cost-cutting measure by the newspaper. This was during the Great Depression; jobs were hard to come by, if they could be come by at all.
He was unemployed for more than a year, but he pressed on, earnestly and diligently.
And as later events proved, it was just a minor bump in the road (until the 1940s, when he deigned to tell the owner of the Columbia Broadcasting System [CBS] how to run his business), and by 1933 he was flourishing mightily.
If that doesn't inspire the brain-damaged primitive, nothing will.
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Okay, now that I got the brain-damaged primitive trying to learn how to become a better person by reading inspirational books, it's now on to the second level.
Many years ago at the Nebraska Department of Health, I used to have my coffee breaks with the head of the division for contagious diseases; he was an M.D., but for various reasons didn't care much for most of his fellow professionals, and instead hung out with other sorts of people.
He once explained to me (but admitted it was just a theory of his) that the source of many neuroses (and it's a "given" the brain-damaged primitive has many of those) lie in problems with the bowels.
He didn't have to prove it to me; I'd already theorized myself that there was a connection between mid-level supervisors in the Department of Health, and the time they squatted on the commodes in the men's room. The more time they spend in one of those stalls, the bigger the pain in the ass they were to the rest of us.
In fact, it was a perfect corelation.
(For the record, franksolich does sitting-down business about every other day, once in a while two times in three days, three or four minutes max, no problems.....and franksolich is notorious among people in real life for being laid-back, mellow, nonchalant, unexcitable.....and while not free of quirks, free of obnoxious quirks. It's been this way all my life.)
I have a suspicion the brain-damaged primitive has been subsisting--for decades--on a diet lacking in fiber and roughage, leading to all sorts of rectal and eliminatory problems.
With the inevitable result, a ****ed-up personality, a negative personality, an anti-social personality.
He's a tight ass.
I suggest the brain-damaged primitive load up his diet with heaps of fiber and roughage, reminding him there's benefits other than simply his becoming a better person, such as lowered blood pressure, lowered blood cholesterol, and lowered weight.
I doubt if it's available in urban northern New Jersey, but perhaps by inspecting nutrition-labels on foodstuffs at his favorite grocery store, the brain-damaged primitive might find something similar--the brown bread such as what I feasted on while wandering around the socialist paradises of the workers and peasants.
It was "just" bread, but it was great bread, and I could never get enough of it.
The socialists at the time (maybe they still do) had a monopoly on the production and sale of brown bread (but no other sorts of bread), which was considered essential for the maintenance of life and health--a "basic" public need that had to be widely available, and cheap.
And it was cheap; at the time, about 1/13th of an American cent for a 2.2-pound loaf (but alas even at that price, many still went hungry, as dire poverty stalked the land).
Now, the socialists couldn't possibly produce the bread that cheaply; in addition to "leakage" (theft of ingredients by higher-ups), the price of grain while low, wasn't near that low.
So they stinted on the ingredients, adding to the flour and yeast, sawdust and ground-up potato peelings.
I thought it the most wonderful bread I'd ever eaten in my life.
And my alimentary canal worked like clockwork.
I was so mellow, so laid-back, so nonchalant, so unexcitable, that it scared the natives, who at times got concerned because I wasn't getting upset about this thing or bent out of shape about that thing or pissed off at yet another thing.
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I have read Berlin Diary, but do not remember ever hearing of Nightmare Years.
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I have read Berlin Diary, but do not remember ever hearing of Nightmare Years.
Berlin Diary was first published in 1941.
The Nightmare Years, heavily based upon that book, came out during the late 1980s, after Shirer had lapsed into senility, and was comparing Reagan with Hitler.
The guy, always a namby-pampy fussbody, apparently lost it sometime during the late 1940s, becoming mired down in self-pity.
That doesn't mean he didn't produce some good books, but--
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Well, I hope that after reading my last suggestion--and yes, the brain-damaged primitive's checking out this thread reasonably regularly--he went down to the grocery store and got some fiber and roughage to add to his diet; it'll get all that bad stuff clogging his system out of there all the sooner.
I always suspected the brain-damaged primitive spent a lot of time sitting in the men's room at his [former] place of employment, emptying his bowels while on the time-clock, rather than doing this rather personal business on his own time.
He probably stank it up pretty good too, so that the mechanics and salesmen there couldn't use it until late afternoon, lest they get aphixiated. Talk about being a jerk, because I'm sure all these harder-working guys at times had some truly pressing needs, but couldn't tend to them.
Anyway, another anecdote about the big old-car auction that was up here two weeks ago.
When they learned of the mobs that were going to invade the usually-mellow and quiet city of Pierce, and that the good citizens of the locality hoped to make some money off of all these sucke--er, outsiders, renting parking spaces, bedrooms, front yards, and selling concessions and geegaws, the auction-holders decided they wanted a cut of the proceeds, because after all it was the auction that was bringing 15-20,000 people into this little town of 1,600.
Their demands ranged from 50% of the proceeds from the Country Club (rental of camping and parking spaces) to 10% from the Girl Scouts selling brownies and the high-school band selling pies and the FFA (Future Farmers of America) selling mom-baked cakes, &c., &c., &c.
They even hired an attorney from the big city to iron out the deals.
The good people of Pierce uprose, and laughed in his face. No deals were gotten.
This surprised me, because Pierce County is the reddest county in the whole state of Nebraska, and Republicans don't act this way. It's not good business to advertise political affiliations, but it's generally safe to assume a small businessman is an (R) around there.
Sometime later in the conversation, I learned the owner, a veteran of the second world war, was an avid admirer of Franklin Roosevelt and Joseph P. Kennedy, and so it made sense. As we all know, Old Joe grabbed all he could get, and to Hell with everybody else.
But still, it discombobulated me, finding out that even out here on the pristine plains, there are a few people who think like Democrat bosses running big blue city machines; that they're "entitled" to a cut in all the action.
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Another anecdote from the big old-car auction.
Somebody from Chicago bought one of the early 1960s Chevrolets, in the $10,000 range, and had it shipped back home, where he plans to immediately begin restoration.
Upon opening the trunk, he found it full of never-used tools from the same period, and apparently the market-value of those antiquities are more than what he'd paid for the old rusted-out hulk.
I disbelieve this for two reasons.
Number one, I'm sure that people looking at cars to buy at auctions check the vehicles inside-out, including looking into the trunk, before they place a bid. So while it's credible that the tools were actually there, it was no "surprise" when the car got to Chicago, and the trunk opened.
Number two, among the tools were allegedly complete Sears Craftsman wrench-sets, and no self-respecting person (and a person who amasses a great deal of hand tools is inevitably a self-respecting person) would have second-rate tools; everybody knows the only decent wrenches and socket-sets were manufactured by S/K-Dresser Industries of Dallas.
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Number two, among the tools were allegedly complete Sears Craftsman wrench-sets, and no self-respecting person (and a person who amasses a great deal of hand tools is inevitably a self-respecting person) would have second-rate tools; everybody knows the only decent wrenches and socket-sets were manufactured by S/K-Dresser Industries of Dallas.
I have always been partial to Snap-On. I do have some of the gadget wrenches Sears sells but I would never use them on a daily basis.
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Another anecdote from the big old-car auction.
Somebody from Chicago bought one of the early 1960s Chevrolets, in the $10,000 range, and had it shipped back home, where he plans to immediately begin restoration.
Upon opening the trunk, he found it full of never-used tools from the same period, and apparently the market-value of those antiquities are more than what he'd paid for the old rusted-out hulk.
I disbelieve this for two reasons.
Number one, I'm sure that people looking at cars to buy at auctions check the vehicles inside-out, including looking into the trunk, before they place a bid. So while it's credible that the tools were actually there, it was no "surprise" when the car got to Chicago, and the trunk opened.
Number two, among the tools were allegedly complete Sears Craftsman wrench-sets, and no self-respecting person (and a person who amasses a great deal of hand tools is inevitably a self-respecting person) would have second-rate tools; everybody knows the only decent wrenches and socket-sets were manufactured by S/K-Dresser Industries of Dallas.
Back in the 60's I bought a slew of S/K Wayne tools......a democrat relieved me of those one night.....dammit.
Blackhawk, MACK, New Britain were also good tools.
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Blackhawk, MACK, New Britain were also good tools.
I never heard of those brands, even though I went through college working for a wholesale hardware company (but admittedly, I was in charge of firearms, ammunition, and sporting goods, not hand-tools).
I may have dissed Sears Craftsman a little too harshly, as that brand has always been popular, too.
But from casual (but long-term) observation, amateurs favored Sears while true craftsmen favored S/K.
When one thinks of it, a guy well-armed with good hand-tools is more impressive, and a bigger benefactor of humanity, than any professor with a sheepskin in his hand.
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There's just something wrong about erotica being discussed at an event called "Poetry Stew", let alone the CalPig and that fat chick with the oxygen.
https://www.facebook.com/events/170249903154711/
Oh my God.... I clicked the link. I saw. There should be a warning.
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I never heard of those brands, even though I went through college working for a wholesale hardware company (but admittedly, I was in charge of firearms, ammunition, and sporting goods, not hand-tools).
I may have dissed Sears Craftsman a little too harshly, as that brand has always been popular, too.
But from casual (but long-term) observation, amateurs favored Sears while true craftsmen favored S/K.
Compared to tools, the most extreme political positions are wishy-washy. The only more divisive issues are Windows/Apple and cars.
When one thinks of it, a guy well-armed with good hand-tools is more impressive, and a bigger benefactor of humanity, than any professor with a sheepskin in his hand.
I have found that keeping my tool in my hand at least makes ME happy ;)
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You know, folks, thanks to everybody's contributions, this is what it's like today:
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills/db10-09a_zpscd268a50.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills/db10-09a_zpscd268a50.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills/db10-09b_zps62d7bc77.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills/db10-09b_zps62d7bc77.jpg.html)
Some sob-sisters here might whine that we're being "mean" to the poor brain-damaged primitive, but one has to recall he's a primitive and can't be hurt like regular people because as a primitive, he has a lower level of sensitivity and consideration. It's the difference between hitting a person, and hitting a rock.
Also, one has to keep it mind it's the primitives who don't care about infants being slaughtered in the womb, about women and little kids being murdered en masse by their socialist overlords, about the suppression of free speech and other useful human activities by totalitarian socialists; these are the same beings who wish all Republicans and conservatives flung into extermination camps.
They have no mercy, so we're compelled to show none on our part.
And as an "extra," to make Skul homesick for the Sandhills of Nebraska in autumn:
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills/0027_zps6247b88f.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills/0027_zps6247b88f.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills/0009_zps54b7e3f2.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills/0009_zps54b7e3f2.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills/0008_zps75133abe.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills/0008_zps75133abe.jpg.html)
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one has to recall he's a primitive and can't be hurt like regular people because as a primitive, he has a lower level of sensitivity and consideration. It's the difference between hitting a person, and hitting a rock.
Nice analogy. :rotf:
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I love it that queer obama is still on display.
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I love it that queer obama is still on display.
I couldn't sleep last night, and so finally got up to read a biography of the late King Farouk of Egypt (1920-1965; r. 1936-1952).
I know what was bothering me; there's remarkable similarities in the characters of the brain-damaged primitive and the once-king, most noticeably their insistence on imposing their opinions on everybody else, and ignoring opinions with which they disagree(d).
And among other things, their mutual fatness, their mutual decadence, their mutual negative attitude about other people.
That was King Farouk's undoing--his intolerance for opinions he didn't like--and it could very well be the same fate of the brain-damaged primitive, unless he in a hurry changes himself.
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Well, I'll be. The resemblence is almost like a father-son thing.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/county%20fair/db_zps3c966cec.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/county%20fair/db_zps3c966cec.jpg.html) (http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/county%20fair/farouk_zpsed657e51.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/county%20fair/farouk_zpsed657e51.jpg.html)
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Well, I'll be. The resemblence is almost like a father-son thing.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/county%20fair/db_zps3c966cec.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/county%20fair/db_zps3c966cec.jpg.html) (http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/county%20fair/farouk_zpsed657e51.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/county%20fair/farouk_zpsed657e51.jpg.html)
DUmmy Alex would be outraged at such a superficial comparison.
Farouk had two eyes, died a young man, but lived a life of unimaginable luxury.
Doug bought one of his eyes at WalMart, and is still living a long, pointless, dreary life.
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How many DUmmies have college degrees from Farouk U.?
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Hmmmm.
One sees from the New York City newspapers that the brain-damaged primitive's got some lousy weather coming; I hope this doesn't darken his mood at that time when he needs to be the most confident, the most optimistic, the most positive-thinking.
The Sandhills of Nebraska, today:
(http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y223/dummiedestroyer/road%20trip/birds5_zpsa0e72525.jpg) (http://s6.photobucket.com/user/dummiedestroyer/media/road%20trip/birds5_zpsa0e72525.jpg.html)
(http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y223/dummiedestroyer/road%20trip/11-477_zps5c97265c.jpg) (http://s6.photobucket.com/user/dummiedestroyer/media/road%20trip/11-477_zps5c97265c.jpg.html)
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How many DUmmies have college degrees from Farouk U.?
I'm starting to wonder if maybe the brain-damaged primitive's the long-lost son of the late King Farouk, and since Farouk never abdicated, in name at least the brain-damaged primitive might be the true king of Egypt and Sudan.
The dates are credible, and the resemblence, as said before, is uncanny.
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Okay, while sleeping last night, I thought of something else that might be of Great Benefit for the brain-damaged primitive in turning his life around.
During the 1920s, there was a fad called the "Coue Method," in which people repeated several times a day, either out loud or to themselves silently, "Every day in every way I'm getting better and better."
It sort of worked, I guess, because it was auto-suggesting to the subconscious, making the wish become reality.
I dunno why it's not done these days, but it wouldn't hurt for the brain-damaged primitive to at least try it.
Sounds like that fool on SNL that boasted every week, "and everybody likes me".
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Sounds like that fool on SNL that boasted every week, "and everybody likes me".
Yeah, the Coue Method's been the butt of jokes for nearly a hundred years now; I'm convinced it's of some psychological value, but obviously it's not a single cure-all for what ails the brain-damaged primitive.
It wouldn't hurt him to try it, though.
Along with all these other handy-dandy self-improvement ideas I've given him here.
I was over in another town today, and picked up another anecdote about the guy who sold all those old cars in Pierce two weeks ago. He closed his Chevrolet dealership in 1996, when he was 79 years old, after having been fifty years in the business. I suspect the death of the mechanic (who lived out on the farm where the unsold vehicles were kept) was probably the final straw, as they were a very close-knit clan.
He and his wife are still around, though; he's now 96, and she's three, four, years younger, and they still live in a house he built back in the late 1940s, directly across the street from the dealership.
Apparently he did sell stuff after he closed the business down; I spoke with a guy who, about ten years ago and just out of high school, who bought something from him. This guy was giving a try at having an automobile-restoring business, and needed a particular part (he doesn't do that any more, having gone into a more steady line of business).
The old man told him yeah, he had the part, and yes, he'd sell it. So this guy and his partner went to the garage, while the old guy and his wife walked in from across the street.
"It was weird; when we went inside, he kept saying 'don't touch anything, don't touch anything,' and the two of them stuck with us as if we were glued.
"There was a big hole in the roof right over a Corvette, that'd been there for a while, and all the rain and snow had drilled a hole through the roof of the car.
"He took my partner to get the part, and his wife stuck right by me, to be sure I didn't touch anything.
"And then just out of thin air, she told me about her wedding back in 1946; that because of the war, white linen wasn't available, and so she had to use brown linen for her bridal gown. 'Even though I couldn't wear white, I was pure when I was married,' she said.
"I dunno what prompted her to say that....."
(http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y223/dummiedestroyer/road%20trip/ml-autumn_zps223106d0.jpg) (http://s6.photobucket.com/user/dummiedestroyer/media/road%20trip/ml-autumn_zps223106d0.jpg.html)
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"And then just out of thin air, she told me about her wedding back in 1946; that because of the war, white linen wasn't available, and so she had to use brown linen for her bridal gown. 'Even though I couldn't wear white, I was pure when I was married,' she said.
"I dunno what prompted her to say that....."
That's funny. Looking at old photos of family members' weddings, an awful lot of women wore suits and were married by the "justice of the peace" at city hall.
I only saw one pic of a bride in white and that was held in a private home.
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Sounds like that fool on SNL that boasted every week, "and everybody likes me".
Do you mean...
http://www.conservativecave.com/index.php/topic,90314.0/msg,1140191.html (http://www.conservativecave.com/index.php/topic,90314.0/msg,1140191.html)
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Well, one notices that after having storms yesterday (Thursday), apparently the weather's good again in urban northern New Jersey. One hopes that for some exercise, the brain-damaged primitive is walking around his neighborhood, tipping his hat to ladies, smiling at small children, talking shop with guys so as to get leads on possible jobs.
The skies are clear and it's sunny out here on the roof of Nebraska, but we have high winds, with gusts sometimes as high as 60 mph.
When out on the highway earlier, I again noticed the advantage of driving low-slung automobiles; at times, I was about the only person who could stay on the road.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/sign_zpsfb9935f7.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/sign_zpsfb9935f7.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/Sand_Hills_Wildlife07_zpsb9b5bd50.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/Sand_Hills_Wildlife07_zpsb9b5bd50.jpg.html)
^^^around the business partner's neck of the woods
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/sandhills2/birds2_zps734a260e.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/sandhills2/birds2_zps734a260e.jpg.html)
^^^the other side of the river from franksolich's place, far to the east of the other two photographs
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It's awful brown and dingy there Frank. Winter is coming.
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It's awful brown and dingy there Frank. Winter is coming.
Brown of course, but not dingy.
I see this morning, from the "severe weather map," that urban northern New Jersey is destined to have another fine day in autumn, just as I remember it. The two years I lived in Fairlawn, autumn was my favorite time of the year.
Winters in New Jersey, forget it. Even the socialist paradises of the workers and peasants never got that bone-chilling cold.
One wonders what the brain-damaged primitive has planned for the day; one hopes it includes donning a wind-breaker and going out to spread some sunshine in his neighborhood. It'd be good for him and his attitude, forcing himself to be cheery in difficult circumstances.
Speaking of cold, it was 43 degrees out here in the middle of nowhere, when the neighbor came by circa 5:00 a.m., finding me out on the back porch having a cigarette and a cup of coffee, and watching the birds down by the river. "God, man, it's cold, is there anything you can't stand?"
It's supposed to be in the high 60s here the next couple of days, and then the annual autumnal drizzles start, signalling the end of Indian summer. Soon, 43 degrees will be considered "warm."
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/county%20fair/10-156_zps469d734d.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/county%20fair/10-156_zps469d734d.jpg.html)
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Did you ever wonder why the marxist liberals like the cold, northeastern region? I think that they empathize with their kinfolk that lived/lives in Siberia.
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Well, the accuweather "severe weather map" doesn't seem to be working this morning, so one can't tell what kind of day today, Sunday, is going to be in urban northern New Jersey, but one hopes it's a pleasant autumn day for the brain-damaged primitive.
Nothing like a good autumn day to lift the spirits, to motivate one.
Maybe after church this morning, the brain-damaged primitive should go down to the corner drugstore and sit in a booth with other guys, having coffee and picking up job-search tips from them. The brain-damaged primitive may be an old dog, but even an old dog can always learn new tricks.
I looked in alarm at the radar map for this area, the eastern foothills of the Sandhills of Nebraska, seeing us covered in deep white, a vast area, which usually signifies "snow." Not that we're not ready for snow, but there'd been no clue in the forecasts last night.
It turns out it was just a "freeze warning," the first frost of the year.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/county%20fair/sandhillshunting_zps4fdb64a1.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/county%20fair/sandhillshunting_zps4fdb64a1.jpg.html)
^^^not me, not here; just a generic photograph of the Sandhills in autumn
Yesterday afternoon, I looked at some old National Geographic hard-cover pictorial books of various areas of the country, these from the late 1960s and early 1970s, which were popular in their time and sold by mail-order for circa four bucks apiece. National Geographic put out a lot of these books, but it escapes me that while they covered rustic Connecticut or suburban Maryland pretty well, they don't appear to have ever covered the Sandhills of Nebraska.
But whatever.
National Geographic has always been famous for its photography, not only of landscapes and natural wonders, but of common people. People are more my thing than scenery, and so I concentrated on those photographs.....and was struck by something that dosn't bode well.
People back in the late 1960s and early 1970s were thin; a fat person was a rarity. Those of Oriental derivation have always tended to be slender, and still do. But in comparison with yesterday's white people and black people, man, people these days are fat.
There were a few fat white people, usually old women, and there were no fat black people, back then.
My, my, how times have changed.
Before I go any further, I must mention this is not a negative commentary about decent and civilized people who happen to be overweight these days. I'm aware some members of conservativecave in real life might have some surplus poundage, but I don't see them that way. I see only beautiful people here.
Myself, forty years ago, I wouldn've been considered "average," with a good football-playing physique (for the time); nowadays, I'm considered frail and thin and underfed and not fit for playing anything but poker.
It scares me, that there's not a single primitive on Skins's island who couldn't beat franksolich to a pulp, if they wished to. I have a good five inches on the brain-damaged primitive, but he's got a good--if cameras don't lie--eighty pounds or more on me.
Even Atman, the biggest sissy and girly-boy on Skins's island, who's about three inches shorter than me but with circa sixty pounds more bulk, could pound franksolich into a little red spot in the dirt, if he wanted to.
That's a particular humiliation for me, being the only person Atman could beat up.
Yikes.
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Well, here it is, Monday morning, and one wonders how things are going, 1500 miles straight east from the eastern foothills of the Sandhills of Nebraska.
We had torrential downpours--temperatures in the high 30s, low 40s--all night long, more reminiscent of spring than of autumn. In autumn in the Sandhills, it's more common to have drizzles, not deluges.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/county%20fair/0011_zps655ec857.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/county%20fair/0011_zps655ec857.jpg.html)
This thread, and Tucker's thread, had oodles of "guests" with ISP (internet service provider) numbers emanating from urban northern New Jersey this past weekend; one supposes one of them was the brain-damaged primitive, and at least two or three of them former co-workers of his.
But I'm starting to get disturbed about something.
The brain-damaged primitive was not--er, is not--in good health, burdened with all sorts of ailments and afflictions, and monstrous amounts of fat. It wouldn't take much for him to slip and fall into a burying-hole.
One of course hopes that's not the case, but it could be the case.
I'm kind of worried we might have a repeat of when grouchy old Don's daughter in Illinois signed on to Skins's island using her father's account there, to make a most dread announcement.
After which one can almost hear the addled pie-and-jam primitive, "grasswire," droning out in her high-pitched old lady's voice, "freeperskilledDougiefreeperskilledDougiefreeperskilledDougie....."
<<<speaking from experience here.
I repeat, one hopes that's not the case, but the longer the brain-damaged primitive remains out of sight, the more and more likely it could be the case.
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The problem is, there's no indication that anyone on earth cares enough about Doug to report his demise. We have to depend on someone noticing an obit in a local New Jersey paper. And it would be a tiny, bare bones death notice, since no one would care to pay for one of the flowery kinds that list up all the deceased's accomplishments and awards and such. Come to think of it, in Doug's case it would still be pretty tiny and bare bones. One wouldn't want to mention his trademarking of "Jizz", nor his wallduding infamy, and there's not much else of note in his life.
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The problem is, there's no indication that anyone on earth cares enough about Doug to report his demise. We have to depend on someone noticing an obit in a local New Jersey paper. And it would be a tiny, bare bones death notice, since no one would care to pay for one of the flowery kinds that list up all the deceased's accomplishments and awards and such. Come to think of it, in Doug's case it would still be pretty tiny and bare bones. One wouldn't want to mention his trademarking of "Jizz", nor his wallduding infamy, and there's not much else of note in his life.
Well, I'm sure if it were to happen, we'd sooner or later know about it.
The primitives leak like a sieve.
The brain-damaged primitive has an adult daughter with whom he's very close, and she lives nearby, I think just over the border in Pennsylvania. He dumped his loving caring wife years ago because he didn't like hearing opinions contrary to his own.
He was posting from his daughter's place during that hurricane that 0bozo ignored just before the elections last year, and so I'm sure she's aware of this vice of his.
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It would be a lot easier if that worthless DUmbass Elad would get off his lazy ass and put up that Dead DUmmy forum. It would make it easier for us to mourn the passing of favorite DUmmies.
And it seems to me that someone like our pal Doug Bulna should not have to wait for the grave to find some special recognition at the DUmp. While Elad develops the Dead DUmmy forum, he should at the same time put together another group, maybe a subforum of Dead DUmmy, where wallduded DUmbasses could be recognized.
Whether decent people assist in the downfall or not, whenever a DUmbass loses his job due to his hateful, stupid, moonbat mouth, he could be recognized in the Walldude forum.
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Well, we got a lot of rain here yesterday, at least 6" right here (the rain-gauge overflowed); one hopes the weather in urban northern New Jersey was more clement, allowing the brain-damaged primitive to simply grab and wear a nylon wind-breaker as he hit the sidewalks looking for a job.
But oh my, the damage wrought in the western foothills of the Sandhills, dutch508's stomping-grounds. I had no idea; tens of thousands of cattle perished, because they hadn't had time yet to grow their winter coats, and there was all that snow, tons of snow. If anyone's a beef lover, expect higher prices soon, because we're talking a major proportion of the national cattle crop here.
The snow never got over here to the eastern foothills--just tons of rain--because bad weather can't cross over the Sandhills, the most formidable, the most daunting, the most challenging, natural barrier in the whole western hemisphere. Bad weather in dutch508's part hits a wall and shatters apart trying to get through the Sandhills, and so all we get are scraps, fragments, of it.
My condolences to dutch508; I had no idea, as I'm not a television person.
Oh, and white healing light, and as soon as I can scan them, a picture of my hands too.
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After thinking about a certain possible potential, uh, event, yesterday I sat down and wrote a memorial thread to the brain-damaged primitive, to be launched as soon as word is received.
Now, I'm not saying the brain-damaged primitive is no longer among us in this time and place; what I am saying is that, given his long absence from Skins's island, there's a likelihood a certain sad event has transpired, and so best to be prepared, in case it did.
The brain-damaged primitive always impressed me as someone with a short fuse, a hot temper, and I can very well see there's probably a chance--maybe a 20% chance, a 25% chance--that he had to listen to something he didn't want to hear, which caused his face to redden, the blood-vessels in his head to stick out and throb, his blood-pressure soaring to the stratosphere. And then suddenly the overburdened veins feeding his brain burst, and him dropping lifeless in an apoplexic fit.
Remember, I'm not saying that happened; all I'm saying is there's a possibility that happened, thus explaining his absence.
So I wrote a memorial thread to him; it's all ready to be launched if events demand it.
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When the big guy in Bellevue's maternal ancestress died a year and a half ago, I was caught off guard, it being totally unexpected. I hurriedly wrote a memorial thread to her, and while it was okay, it wasn't nearly as good as what she deserved, having been such a saint, and burdened with such a worthless son.
(And it was worse than that; she died with little money, and the big guy and his older sister had to bear the funeral expenses. With what the big guy had to offer, she would've barely been able to be put into a wicker basket and buried in the paupers' corner of the cemetery. But fortunately the big guy's older sister, possessive of a good mind, a good reputation, and a good job--a decent and civilized person all around--by herself had the means to give the poor old woman a decent funeral.)
And just a month ago, we were startled by the unexpected death of grouchy old Don over there in Illinois. Grouchy old Don had been a popular primitive, but I was so deligh--er, deluged with grief about the news that I wasn't composed enough to write a memorial to him.
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Well, I have now decided to pre-write memorials to primitives of prominence, so that when a certain inevitable event happens to one of them, it's immediately all set to go. I've been doing this for a few days now, and yesterday I wrote the one for the brain-damaged primitive.
My favorite literary effort thus far is the memorial to the defrocked warped primitive, she with the face like Hindenberg's. It's a wonderful piece of literary exposition, extolling "warpy."
However, despite its wonderfulness, that might've been wasted effort. It's true that Ms. Hindenberg is old and franksolich is not, but she may outlive me, much in the same sense that grouchy old mean rattlesnakes tend to live almost forever. It's a good piece, but the defrocked warped primitive has to be deceased before it can be launched.
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Now, this may sound ghoulish and macabre, but it's nothing of that sort.
For decades, at least since the 1870s, newspapers have pre-written obituaries of prominent people, so that when someone dies, it's all ready for the presses. I'm sure that many might remember instances where a newspaper published an obituary prematurely, but generally they don't.
It saves a lot of time and trouble, having an obituary pre-written.
This is the same sort of thing; it's not ghoulish or macabre.
It's simply called "being prepared."
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Thanks, Frank.
I worked during the storm, of course. We got between 5 and 10 inches in town- very wet haevy snow. We were lucky that no one lost power and only a few trees came down. We were on the very east edge of the big snow. Further to the west, in my cousin Mick's hometown, they got 18 to 24 inches of snow- power out all over the county, hundreds of trees damaged, cattle dead, etc.
In the Black Hills, in Deadwood South Dakota, they got 30+ inches of snow. The power is still not on in many places and hundreds if not thousands of cattle dead. AND- today it is snowing again.
The old timers have been saying we are due a hard winter. We may just be.
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Thanks, Frank.
I worked during the storm, of course. We got between 5 and 10 inches in town- very wet haevy snow. We were lucky that no one lost power and only a few trees came down. We were on the very east edge of the big snow. Further to the west, in my cousin Mick's hometown, they got 18 to 24 inches of snow- power out all over the county, hundreds of trees damaged, cattle dead, etc.
In the Black Hills, in Deadwood South Dakota, they got 30+ inches of snow. The power is still not on in many places and hundreds if not thousands of cattle dead. AND- today it is snowing again.
The old timers have been saying we are due a hard winter. We may just be.
We had a rather warm winter, a cold wet spring and a cooler and wetter summer than normal and right now it's very dry and cooling down a bit. So, I too am looking to have a bitter winter with maybe some large wet snows. It's about time for another bad winter storm here.
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We had a rather warm winter, a cold wet spring and a cooler and wetter summer than normal and right now it's very dry and cooling down a bit. So, I too am looking to have a bitter winter with maybe some large wet snows. It's about time for another bad winter storm here.
My parents were commenting on the 'wooly bears' (a caterpillar that has fur on it--supposedly, the color of the fur is the indicator of a severe winter, not the length of said fur) they had seen last weekend, at a combined family birthday party on Sunday. They said that the things were really dark this year. Winter is supposed to suck here.
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I'm headin to do one of Doug Bulna's favorite activity, shooting. I have some chrono and ballistic expansion testing to do.
Dainbramaged, this is for you... :tongue:
(He hates guns with a passion.)
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My parents were commenting on the 'wooly bears' (a caterpillar that has fur on it--supposedly, the color of the fur is the indicator of a severe winter, not the length of said fur) they had seen last weekend, at a combined family birthday party on Sunday. They said that the things were really dark this year. Winter is supposed to suck here.
They call them 'wooly worms' here and the older folks swore by them and their ability to foretell the winter weather. Something about the number of rings, color, closeness of some ring to another or something. By the time I figure out what the "wooly worm" prediction is, winter will be over so I just muddle through. What else can you do......idle your SUV all winter?
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I wonder if our pal Doug donated to the Dawes 2013 Victory Fund.
With ten more dollars he could have gone over fifty votes.
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Well, I wonder what kind of day it is in urban northern New Jersey. If it's one of those blustery autumn days, one hopes the brain-damaged primitive remembers to put fifty cents in his pocket, so that while pounding the pavements looking for a job, he can take a break and have a cup of coffee at the neighborhood drug store.
I gave up trying to follow the weather; what accuweather tells me via the internet isn't the same weather over there as what the New York City newspapers say it is in the brain-damaged primitive's locale.
This is one of the reasons I wish the brain-damaged primitive would resume hanging around Skins's island, so as to illuminate us about his weather.
It's a big wonderful world out there, with lots of different things, and it's nice to learn as much as possible about it.
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Yesterday, Tuesday, while polishing up the pre-written memorial to the brain-damaged primitive, I decided that if he doesn't show up on Skins's island to explain and apologize to his fellow primitives by Thanksgiving, one might as well declare him presumably dead, most likely from an apoplexic stroke striking him down when he was compelled to listen to an opinion that disagreed with his.
And then I'd use this pre-written memorial as one of the two awards he's likely to get in the Top DUmmies of 2013 competition.
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Yesterday, when I was traveling around with the business partner, he suddenly announced we were stopping somewhere. He told me where and why, but I wasn't paying attention, and so didn't "get it." But as he's who he is, I figure it was okay, copacetic, cool with me, where we were going and why.
We drove outside of Pierce, past the country club, and pulled up into that field that two weeks ago was cluttered with rusty old cars and trucks. There were still some metallic caracasses around, even though the successful bidders had only ten days after the auction to get their stuff out of there, and that deadline was more than a week ago.
The business partner told me there were still seventy-one vehicles there (out of more than 500 that had been there), even though all vehicles had been sold.
"Great," I said; "these people paid thousands of bucks for pieces of rust, and just abandoned them....."
Not quite, he said; because of distance and logistics, some successful bidders had made arrangements with the seller, that they'd just strip their vehicles of the parts they wanted, leaving everything else to be picked up by a scrap-metal dealer from eighty miles south of here.
He told me again why he wanted to see it, but I wasn't paying attention, and so didn't "get it."
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While walking around, I ran into a guy, who told me his name, that he was 55 years old, a truck driver, and from Colorado. I "caught" everything but his name. He also told me what he was doing out there, but I omitted to "catch" that, too.
If one's deaf, one's fortunate indeed if he can "get" more than a tenth of the information that's given him.
He was wearing a jacket that said CIRCLE OF SILENCE. I asked him what that was, and he said it's a motorcycle club in southern Denver.
Aha, I thought, a biker. Someone worth my while communicating with.
I asked him specific questions about the political situation in Colorado--after all, he's right there on the ground--and he told me that there's a third liberal Democrat state senator there who's being recalled; in fact, it's his own state senator, from just south and east of Denver.
That was good news, and I asked what the prospects are. He said one can be reasonably confident there's a new (R) state senator going to the state capitol.
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Well, well, here it is, Thursday, October 17; it's been a very long time since the brain-damaged primitive shot off his big mouth and suffered the consequences. Walrus-face has made a few brief appearances on Skins's island since then, but thus far no explanation, no apology to the primitives he abused.
The slob might've been celebrating yesterday, what with all that happened in Washington, and the U.S. senatorial election in New Jersey. He might as well enjoy it while it lasts, because it's not going to last very long. The primitives have no idea the consequences of what happened in Washington, and when they begin to feel them, they're not going to like them.
Too bad for the primitives.
And as for the new senator from New Jersey, that was hardly a surprise. It's nothing more than another indication of the sheer rot and gangrene of Democrat machine politics, and the brain-damaged primitive is part of that dead flesh.
That doesn't explain, however, why he's persisted in living--he rents, he doesn't own a home--in the reddest county in the state.....and gripes about it constantly.....when one's sure he'd be far more comfortable in one of the blue machine areas, preferably one with strict firearms control.
It's always been puzzling, this contradiction.
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Now, since there's always lots and lots of readers from urban northern New Jersey checking this thread at least once a day, sometime later today I hope to start a new series on this thread, to illuminate them while we're sitting around waiting for walrus-face to explain and apologize to his fellow primitives.
There's a great many decent and civilized people in urban northern New Jersey who like the Great Outdoors.
But oddly, they don't know much, if anything, about hunting, fishing, camping, hiking, in the Sandhills of Nebraska. The Sandhills have about 20,000 people in an area larger than the whole of New Jersey, and there's more of them on the edges, than in the interior (franksolich himself grew up in the interior, but currently lives on the edge with the "Lewis & Clark" area).
(http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y223/dummiedestroyer/autumn/0003_zps956928a9.jpg) (http://s6.photobucket.com/user/dummiedestroyer/media/autumn/0003_zps956928a9.jpg.html)
This is "odd," because next to Nebraskans, New Jerseyians own more of Nebraska than people from any other state. I dunno why this is, but it's been this way since the 1860s. Even people from New York City (Wall Street) and Boston (State Street), have never owned as much of Nebraska, as corporate shareholders who reside in New Jersey.
Even a vast stretch of land adjacent to this property has belonged to New Jersey interests since 1948, when two guys showed up here, Meyer and Alberto, and paid for the land with U.S. currency. They were here but one time, that single time sixty-five years ago, and no one representing the owners has been around since. However, their title to this idle farmland remains good, because two times a year, the county treasurer receives a check for the property taxes from a law firm in New Jersey, representing certain Italianate interests there.
(http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y223/dummiedestroyer/autumn/12-115_zpsccbf8553.jpg) (http://s6.photobucket.com/user/dummiedestroyer/media/autumn/12-115_zpsccbf8553.jpg.html)
The land's been sitting idle, flourishing with wild growth and wild life. I'm the only person who lives near it, and I'm never sure how to handle things when someone wishes to intrude upon it. It is after all someone else's property, and maybe they don't want people trespassing on it. Generally, I let people I personally know onto it, and discourage people I don't know by reminding them the property's owned by people who have rather, uh, extreme methods of dealing with people they don't want around.
The county sheriff assures me that's about the best one can do. He's never received a complaint from faraway New Jersey about trespassers, but still, it's best to limit access to it.
When I get done writing a series about hunting, fishing, camping, hiking, in the Sandhills of Nebraska, I hope to do a piece on the fine Italianate cuisine that one can find out here in the middle of nowhere.
(http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y223/dummiedestroyer/autumn/2020_zpsb24fe4b2.jpg) (http://s6.photobucket.com/user/dummiedestroyer/media/autumn/2020_zpsb24fe4b2.jpg.html)
(http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y223/dummiedestroyer/autumn/neighboringwildlife_zps9f9f40d9.jpg) (http://s6.photobucket.com/user/dummiedestroyer/media/autumn/neighboringwildlife_zps9f9f40d9.jpg.html)
(http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y223/dummiedestroyer/autumn/2009_zpsd4ce82a7.jpg) (http://s6.photobucket.com/user/dummiedestroyer/media/autumn/2009_zpsd4ce82a7.jpg.html)
(http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y223/dummiedestroyer/autumn/smalldeadfish_zpsb511aa78.jpg) (http://s6.photobucket.com/user/dummiedestroyer/media/autumn/smalldeadfish_zpsb511aa78.jpg.html)
(http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y223/dummiedestroyer/autumn/mediumdeadfish_zpsba85bf95.jpg) (http://s6.photobucket.com/user/dummiedestroyer/media/autumn/mediumdeadfish_zpsba85bf95.jpg.html)
(http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y223/dummiedestroyer/autumn/bigdeadfish_zps2971cc0d.jpg) (http://s6.photobucket.com/user/dummiedestroyer/media/autumn/bigdeadfish_zps2971cc0d.jpg.html)
While waiting for the brain-damaged primitive to grow some balls, one might as well do something constructive, and this appears as good an idea as anything else.
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Damn Frank, you make me hungry for some catfish stew and saltine crackers.
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Well, here it is, mid-afternoon, and walrus-face has yet to show his mug, explaining and apologizing to his fellow primitives for his boorish conduct. I mean, he’s shown his face for brief moments, but he hasn’t done a damned bit of explaining and apologizing.
I’m suddenly reminded how the brain-damaged primitive hates guns and the second amendment, and decided I’d write about that first, before illuminating our guests from urban northern New Jersey about hunting here in the Sandhills of Nebraska.
That’s another odd contradiction about the sad-faced blubbery whale; if he hates guns so much, why doesn’t he live somewhere in New Jersey with the strictest local gun-control laws, such as, one assumes, Camden or Newark? I’ve heard (but whether correctly or not, I don’t know) that their local gun-control laws make it impossible to own a firearm, and so one reasonably assumes these cities don’t have many, if any, guns around.
If I were the brain-damaged primitive, I’d be checking the newspaper advertisements, for an apartment to rent in those gun-free zones. And rents are probably cheaper there too.
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This is no surprise to anybody here, but it might be a surprise to our guests from urban northern New Jersey that while franksolich is an enthusiastic supporter of the right to bear arms, I’ve never owned a gun in my life. In fact, I’m probably the only adult male in this whole county who doesn’t have a gun.
It’s simply a matter of ability, temperament, and skills.
If one’s deaf, there’s problems with balance, spatial perception, and patience, and those things have to be pretty sharp if one’s to be good at using a firearm. I know that most of all, I’m not a patient person.
My self-defense skills lie in my talent at wielding an S/K adjustable wrench with a 1-3/8†spannage and a 17†handle. Nothing’s ever happened--in my entire life--that I’ve ever had to use such a tool thusly, but I rather suspect I can crumble a malicious person’s skull with it, if I had to.
So even though I don’t own one myself, I’m just as avidly pro-gun as the next guy.
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My chief exposure to firearms was when I was in college, the University of Nebraska, and working for a wholesale hardware distributor. An older brother had gotten me the job, pointing out that besides being a responsible, dependable, conscientious person who paid attention to intricate detail, I wasn’t interested in firearms; bored to death by them.
Eighteen-year-old franksolich was exactly, precisely, the sort of person the president of the company wanted for this job, and I was immediately hired. The company at the time had about seventy employees (fifteen in the office, all the others in the warehouse), and I reported directly to the president, bypassing all other channels.
The place where the firearms, ammunition, and sporting goods were kept was a set-apart, secured area. Only the president, one of the two foremen, and I had keys to it. I was the only one allowed to receive, check in, and ship out, anything from that particular area.
It involved more paperwork than any manual labor; sheaves of paperwork, lots of trees.
The brands I recall at the moment--this after all was a very long time ago--included Beretta, Herstal, Browning, Colt, Remington, Great Western, Marlin, Winchester, Barrett, Savage, Smith & Wesson, Springfield, Sturm-Ruger, Benelli, Troy, but there surely were more than that--even though I was the only checker-in and sender-out, it was a major part of the business. Besides the vastly lucrative sportsman’s market, the business also supplied various law-enforcement agencies.
While the domestic firearms were packed pretty good, the foreign-made ones were packed solid, the weight of the materials (usually wood and grease and steel straps) far exceeding the weight of the individual instrument itself, and pasted with several customs stamps.
Many--not all, but many--of them arrived coated in grease; I was told this was for fingerprint detection (I dunno if that was true or not), and I was always really nervous about those.
Even though the area was restricted, myself being one of only three people with a key, while I was working there, it of course was unlocked, and shortly after someone else had spied a pallet of newly-arrived firearms on the receiving dock, I got visitors, ostensibly taking coffee-breaks when it was nowhere near break-time.
These were guys who’d been with the company for years, and many of them were good friends of my older brother, and myself being a green 18-year-old kid, I could no more keep them out than I could stop the tides. They’d come in, and of the boxes I’d opened--they never touched anything until after I did--they took the instruments out to examine them. And then if there was more than one of them, they’d have a cigarette and sit around comparing the virtues of each one.
I dunno how it was avoided, but no illicit fingerprints were ever detected on the goods. As far as I know.
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The company hosted a big Christmas party every year at the Elk’s Lodge, and gave out presents that one “won†through a lottery. In this kinder and gentler age, such presents weren’t old inventory or overstocks or cheap goods; they were prime quality hardware goods, anything from the latest Corningware eight-place settings to the top-of-the-line Black & Decker power tools to 24-piece sets of Stanley hand-tools to new-model Sunbeam appliances to Briggs & Stratton walking lawn-mowers. &c., &c., &c.
And yes, firearms, exactly three of those each year.
It was most peculiar--even though it was a “lotteryâ€--every year I worked there (I worked there five years), I won a firearm. In all honesty, I would’ve preferred winning something I could use, but the biggest present I always got (everybody “won†one big present and two or three small ones) was a firearm.
And of course it couldn’t be given to me, because I had no firearms license.
The first year, I won a Winchester shotgun, and managed to trade it with another guy for his 128-piece S/K socket-wrench set. The second year, I won a Browning automatic, and fortunately managed to trade it with another guy for his 32-piece set of S/K large adjustable wrenches. The third year, I won a Winchester--but whether a rifle or shotgun, I no longer remember--and in no time managed to trade it with another guy for a 64-piece set of S/K combination wrenches. And on it went, for five years.
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So…..that was my major experience with firearms; I was always much more interested in being sure the serial numbers were correct, than what sort of instrument it was.
“My†area also included hunting, fishing, and sporting goods, but those lines constantly changed, and so I really didn’t bother learning anything about them, just so I was checking in, and shipping out, the right stuff.
The last Christmas Eve that I worked there, it was during morning coffee-break that day when I abruptly realized I hadn’t gotten a Christmas present yet. After the parents and younger brother died, the older siblings and I drew names for Christmas presents. There were a lot of us, and it included the nephews and in-laws, making fifteen of us. It was a lot easier just to have each person buy one other person a present.
That Christmas, I’d drawn the name of my then-four-year-old nephew.
There was a problem, because I was the one who shut down the whole business on holiday eves (it always closed at noon), the last person to leave, turning out all the lights and locking all the doors. Also, the big family get-together was 400 miles away, and one of my older brothers was coming by circa noon to pick up the present I was supposed to give.
(I didn’t do holidays with the older brothers and sisters and their families, especially not the religious holidays; they were all much older than I was, and we had little in common anyway. They’d all turned out hippies, liberals, and Democrats, and I’d turned out the way I’d turned out. I either stayed home alone or went to my grandmother’s in northeastern Pennsylvania instead.)
I wasn’t going to be able to get away, and what could a wholesale hardware business possibly have, that would be of interest for a four-year-old?
By chance, after coffee-break, some errand took me to the top floor of the building, the “attic,†where discontinued and written-off inventory was stored. I passed by a pallet on which were stacked cases, circa 3' x 4’ x 2.5’ cardboard boxes, of duck decoys, six per case. When I approached the buyer to inquire of a price, he told me they’d been up there since 1949, and he was surprised anyone’d be interested in buying them.
Because he liked me, and because they’d been written off a long time ago, he quoted ten bucks.
There were twelve cases on the pallet, and of course they were all dust-covered, dirt-covered, bat-excresence-covered, mouse-droppings-covered (but what was inside was still brand-new, remember; the cases had never been opened). The boxes on top had caved-in lids, and they all bulged. I dug out the squarest case, and took that one.
When my brother showed up at the loading-dock to pick up my present to take to the family gathering, he was startled at what I’d expected him to take. Such a very big box, covered with all this crud and junk. “You could’ve at least wrapped it,†he complained; “it’s going to make the inside of my car dirty†(it was too large to fit into the trunk).
My co-workers scoffed and guffawed at the idea. “This little kid’s going to see this great big dirty old box, and then when he opens it up, it’s just going to be duck decoys. Some sort of uncle you are.â€
Well, I did the best I could, I pointed out.
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Well, here it is, Friday morning, October 18, and walrus-face never did show up on Skins’s island to explain and apologize to his fellow primitives. He might have shown up there, but he sure didn’t grow any balls and make a clean breast of things.
I swear, this guy makes the Cowardly Lion seem ferocious.
I imagine right now, he’s doing any of the following: (a) drawing unemployment and food stamps, (b) applying for social security disability, (c) applying for early social security retirement (he’s right at that age where he can), (d) setting up a home-based computer consulting (or whatever) business, (e) not applying for a real job anywhere, and (f) feeling sorry for himself.
I know for sure he’s doing (f).
If the brain-damaged primitive’s doing (d), he’s got to be careful. Given his record with the Internal Revenue Service, in which he tried to get away with something about ten years ago and didn’t, I’m sure the IRS is keeping close tabs on him.
The easiest way to stay out of that sort of trouble is simply by being honest and forthright in reporting one’s income.
But of course walrus-face is a primitive; if he’s doing (d), he’s probably going to try something again, thinking he’s smarter than the IRS. Primitives are like that; they’re actually the stupidest people on the planet, but they think they’re the smartest people in the entire galaxy.
No matter how many times they learn no, they’re not.
And if he’s drawing unemployment and food stamps, he’d probably better be reporting his (d) income to the state of New Jersey too. Every cent of it, not just a little bit of it; the corrupt Democrat machines need all the dough they can get.
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Later today I’ll post the comments regarding hunting in the Sandhills of Nebraska, so as to illuminate all the good people of urban northern New Jersey who’ve been visiting this thread. Maybe about suppertime.
And then after that, fishing in the Sandhills of Nebraska, camping in the Sandhills of Nebraska, hiking in the Sandhills of Nebraska, and the fine Italianate cuisine available in the Sandhills of Nebraska.
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If Doug chooses (d), to market his jaw-dropping computer skills, he's got a few small problems. He cannot under any circumstances allow a prospective client to see the crude mess of a site that he oversaw at Gearhart Chevrolet, he has to hide his elementary-school photoshop efforts, and above all he has to avoid allowing them to google his name.
Doug's career as a computer whiz has sprouted some substantial roadblocks.
Doug's situation stands in constrast to that of a fellow DUmmy in another east coast hellhole, Rob McGrath. While Doug at one time, maybe twenty-five years ago, had a marketable skill, McGrath has never been anything but a wastrel.
But now, in their sixties, they're in similar straits. Both are unemployed and unemployable, dependent on a dole of one kind or another. In both cases, democratness has condemned them to useless indolence in their declining years.
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The evil twin Atman's about ten years younger than the brain-damaged primitive, but his hair's thinning considerably, so he might as well be older.
I'm not sure the nature of the computer work the brain-damaged primitive used to do--Tucker would know--but I think it involved locating hard-to-find automotive parts.
It's my understanding that stuff like web-page design takes creativity, an attribute generally absent in primitives, who think only along narrow rigid lines instead of letting their imagination run rampant.
We know for sure the brain-damaged primitive has no creativity, no imagination, because he shuts off anything contrary to what he wants to hear, see, and experience.
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Kick for that next job interview he has that does a background investigation on him :-)
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Walrus-face would have gotten away with it, if it wasn't for those pesky Cavers and their dog. :-)
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Oops, my apologies especially to our guests from urban northern New Jersey, who’d probably been hoping for a description of hunting in the Sandhills of Nebraska as I’d promised yesterday. I was sidetracked, and I promise it’ll show up on Saturday sometime.
The femme, who lives in the big city, unexpectedly came, and we went out to dine at the bar in town.
Swede, the cook of Norwegian derivation whose specialty is Italianate cuisine, wasn’t working--he’d gone somewhere with his wife, who owns and runs the bar (I was told where, but I didn’t catch it)--and so Yashoda from the big city, who works at the country club there, was substituting.
I had my usual, a hamburger well done, pressed down hard on the grill so as to squeeze out every drop of grease, while the femme chowed down on Yashoda‘s famous brathühnchen, speckpfannkuchen, kartoffelsalat, calenberger pfannenschlag, grumbeersupp un quetschekuche; for a drink, apfelwein, and for dessert, prinzregententorte.
The femme can put down tons of food without gaining an ounce; she’s actually very petite, like Nancy Reagan. She’s slender and blonde and short, circa 5’8â€, her only aesthetic flaw being that she tends to develop freckles in the summer. (But nobody’s perfect; she after all goes out with a guy absent ears.)
She has breasts exactly proportional to her size, like a couple of those paper oil-spouts one finds at gasoline stations but not quite as high. And they’re solid too; nothing at all like the sagging jugs of primitive women, which resemble gigantic elongated watermelons pendulously hanging downward.
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Shame on you for enticing the broke primitive AKA Doug Bulna with your vivid description of a female. Without a job, how is he going to persuade a woman to spend an evening with him? He's so poor that even Bobo the Hobo would turn him down.
Maybe it's a good thing that NJ legalized fag marriage. It doubles his chances for a date on Sat. night.
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Well, the brain-damaged primitive made an appearance on Skins’s island this morning, but he neglected to explain and apologize things to his fellow primitives, nearly all of whom he’d abused and mistreated the past ten or so years.
The brain-damaged primitive may have learned now that words have consequences, and so it’s probably time for him to learn that words not spoken have consequences too.
This guy is a real piece of work.
To put it mildly; it’d be easier to train a rock to jump through a hoop.
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Okay, now as promised our good visitors from urban northern New Jersey, a description of hunting in the Sandhills of Nebraska. Now, hunting’s popular in all areas of the state, but this pertains only to hunting in the Sandhills (see map of Nebraska in previous comment).
The Sandhills are more rough, more raw, than all the other areas of Nebraska.
Now, despite the popularity of hunting, franksolich has never hunted in his life.
When I was seven years old, my three older brothers, teenagers, took me pheasant-hunting in the Platte River lowlands, where at the time my family lived. I don’t remember much about it, other than that I didn’t much care for it.
The following year, when I was eight years old, the older brothers decided to take my younger brother, then six years old. I had no interest in going along, but I was put out that I hadn’t been invited.
“You’re too much trouble,†one of the older brothers said; “you make too much noise.â€
“No I don’t,†I insisted; “I didn’t make any noise at all last year.â€
“Oh yes you did,†another older brother said; “you made so much noise they could probably hear you down in Kansas.â€
“No way,†I answered; “I didn’t make any noise at all. You told me to be quiet, and so I was quiet. I never said a word; I didn’t even whisper anything. I was as quiet as a dead fish.â€
“You made lots of noise,†the third older brother came back.
“How did I make noise? I didn’t say anything.â€
And thus at the late age of eight years, I finally learned that what comes out of human mouths is not the only sounds that exist. I had no idea, for example, that stepping on brittle twigs made noise.
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The second, and very last, time I went hunting, I was in college. Several former college roommates from Colorado were back, and wanted to go pheasant-hunting. I lined them up with another former college roommate, who had a farm in southeastern Nebraska.
I had no intention of accompanying them, but they insisted I had to; they hadn’t just come for hunting, but to visit me too.
I pointed out there was a Nebraska football game on television that weekend (this was back when a team could be in a televised game only five times every two years). They said they’d be done in time for the game.
As I’d figured there’d be, that Saturday morning was cold and damp, with a sharp breeze. There’d been a snowstorm some days before, and the snow hadn’t all melted yet. We went down into the southeastern corner of Nebraska, to the farm, and walked around all morning. I was quiet, although it was an ordeal trying to be so while stumbling through the corn-stumps and furrows.
I was inadequately dressed for the weather, and refused to don one of those bright orange vests (after all, I wasn’t doing any hunting myself), because in one, I looked about as stupid as the brain-damaged primitive in a bright orange vest. I was very sensitive about appearances and propriety.
They did reasonably well, the three visitors and the farmer host bagging eleven birds.
When we got back to the farmhouse, I was frozen stiff, and immediately headed to the beer in the refrigerator so as to warm up. By the time the football game started, I was passed out.
If one wants poultry, it’s just easier, cleaner, and cheaper to get it at the grocery store.
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Anyway, in autumn, in the Sandhills of Nebraska, one can hunt pheasants, quail, grouse, partridges, rail, snipe, woodcock, doves, squirrels, cottontail rabbits, jackrabbits, turkeys, Canadian geese, dark geese, white-faced geese, teal, ducks, red foxes, beavers, mink, muskrats, skunks, badgers, weasels, raccoons, opossums, coyotes, elk, bighorn sheep, deer, antelope, and this year only, mountain lions.
I dunno how hunting licenses in Nebraska compare in cost, with hunting licenses elsewhere, other than if one’s not a resident of Nebraska, he gets charged through the teeth for one. I dunno the specifics of the firearms laws in Nebraska, but as it seems just about everybody has at least one gun, the laws are probably pretty lenient.
Which is the way it should be.
After high school and orphanhood, I left the Sandhills and moved to Lincoln and later, Omaha. Hunting was not part of my personal observation until I moved out here twelve years ago (to this specific property, eight years ago), on the eastern edge of the Sandhills.
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I live way out in the middle of nowhere, on a property that had been uninhabited for nineteen years before I arrived. The nearest neighbor is six miles away. The western boundary of this vast spread is the Elkhorn River. The land is not farmed or ranched, I assume for agricultural-subsidy purposes. (After all, the late Joseph Kennedy and the Bostonian Billionaire are not the only people who can maneuver themselves into tax-free situations.)
The land is just left alone, to do whatever the land wishes to do.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/theriverhere_zps469df930.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/theriverhere_zps469df930.jpg.html)
Before I came out here the autumn of 2005, nobody had paid attention to this place, for two reasons. There’s more than enough good hunting land and few enough people around here, and the ancient woman who lived here before I did didn’t like having people around.
But once I got out here, this place turned into Times Square; there’s always people around.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/hunters1_zps3db2c0d7.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/hunters1_zps3db2c0d7.jpg.html)
I don’t hunt, but I find the company of hunters agreeable (not to mention their firearms could come in handy if a primitive’s stalking franksolich). From about October 1 clear until New Year’s Day, it’s necessary to keep a large crockpot full of beef stew, and the coffee-pot in good working order.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/autumnmorning_zps7b48db00.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/autumnmorning_zps7b48db00.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/autumnafternoon_zpsaa2e0ca2.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/autumnafternoon_zpsaa2e0ca2.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/autumnevening_zps1be50b60.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/autumnevening_zps1be50b60.jpg.html)
There’s four refrigerators in the garage stocked full of beer. The beer belongs to the neighbor, the neighbor’s older brother, the property caretaker, and the ranch-hands who occasionally work across the road, on the other side of the William Rivers Pitt. The beer’s kept here (I no longer drink, myself) so that the wives of these guys don’t know how much they drink.
On wet, damp, windy November mornings, this place is a handy place to be, when one’s done hunting.
Also, it’s a better place to clean one’s carcasses, than at home.
Now, I wish I could say something about deer and geese and all that, but I know nothing other than that these are just as popular (all over Nebraska, not just the Sandhills) if not more so, as pheasants. The brain’s so congested with so much other information about so many other things, there’s no room to jam any of this in there too.
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Shame on you for enticing the broke primitive AKA Doug Bulna with your vivid description of a female. Without a job, how is he going to persuade a woman to spend an evening with him? He's so poor that even Bobo the Hobo would turn him down.
Maybe it's a good thing that NJ legalized fag marriage. It doubles his chances for a date on Sat. night.
He's got a pretty good shot at Sarah Imaboobi.
He's broke, old, and ugly, so Amber would be swooning, but she'd need a pretty expensive bus ticket.
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Well, it appears the brain-damaged primitive was hanging around Skins’s island yesterday (Saturday) for a little while, and it also appears he hasn’t learned a damned thing, if not in fact being even more abusive of his fellow primitives than he’d ever been.
The guy’s an ass.
I don’t suppose he’s read Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People yet, or if he is reading it, maybe it’s slow going. After all, with only one usable eye, one can read only half as fast as the rest of us.
And it’d probably be superfluous to mention that part of his brain was amputated a few years ago, and that might present some reading problems. Maybe the brain-damaged primitive’s to where he has to follow the words on a page with his finger, and say those words out loud, as he reads.
Also, it doesn’t look likely he’s added fiber and roughage to his diet; given the tone of his hostility to his fellow primitives, one imagines he sits on the commode half a dozen times a day, grunting and pushing and squeezing and umphing, trying to get what’s in there to descend.
Too, I don’t suppose the brain-damaged primitive’s been to church, even though it would help.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/signdb_zps4a0f6850.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/signdb_zps4a0f6850.jpg.html)
Given his ethnic origin, I suppose the brain-damaged primitive like franksolich is Roman Catholic, although a long-ago lapsed one. He’s from that era when everybody was chomping down on hallucinogenic drugs and adopted some rather weird views of reality.
He thinks he’s pretty bright, maybe at the tip of the pyramid when it comes to intelligence. Walrus-face probably thinks that if he can’t figure out, or grasp in some other way, something, then that something doesn’t exist.
What the brain-damaged primitive’s too stupid to see is that time, space, reality are infinite, and even the most cerebrally-packed human skull is finite. The finite cannot comprehend the infinite.
No Albert Einstein, the brain-damaged primitive; and even Einstein had a finite capacity to see and understand things.
Bah humbug.
- - - - - - - - - -
It was foggy in the eastern foothills of the Sandhills of Nebraska this morning; winter’s coming.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/3535171896_44590f5ab9_o_zps3bbca051.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/3535171896_44590f5ab9_o_zps3bbca051.jpg.html)
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It was foggy in the eastern foothills of the Sandhills of Nebraska this morning; winter’s coming.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/3535171896_44590f5ab9_o_zps3bbca051.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/3535171896_44590f5ab9_o_zps3bbca051.jpg.html)
Beautiful picture Frank.
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(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/3535171896_44590f5ab9_o_zps3bbca051.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/3535171896_44590f5ab9_o_zps3bbca051.jpg.html)
Perfect setting for "The Hounds of the Baskerville."
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He's got a pretty good shot at Sarah Imaboobi.
He's broke, old, and ugly, so Amber would be swooning, but she'd need a pretty expensive bus ticket.
But the symmetry of linking them up would be comedy GOLD!
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Perfect setting for "The Hounds of the Baskerville."
Lovely pic, but it looks like a horror movie.
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Perfect setting for "The Hounds of the Baskerville."
Actually, what's little known is that the Sandhills of Nebraska possess some of the most dense fog in the world, and it happens like, just about every day.
London and Scotland don't have anything on us.
<<<has spent winters in London and Scotland, and so know what theirs is like.
It happens because Nebraska, especially the Sandhills, sits atop the deepest underground "sea" in the world, and it's all actually pretty close to the surface of the ground, all this water.
One notices it on the highways around here; everywhere else, especially in corrupt blue states, highways tend to break up on the surface. Ours tend to break up underneath.
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With all of those bushes, it would be a DUmmies nightmare.
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Perfect setting for "The Hounds of the Baskerville."
Or, alternately, "The DUmmies of Battery Park." :whistling: O-) :tongue:
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I oftentimes read myself to sleep, and last night (Sunday night) was one of those instances. I'd closely examined the brain-damaged primitive's latest campfire, about that woman race-car driver.
Doug thinks he's hot shit, but I really wonder.
It seemed to me that, based upon vocabularial analysis, roughly, approximately, the primitive on that thread with the second-lowest IQ (intelligence quotient) would score about 10-15 points higher than the brain-damaged primitive, if they all took an IQ test.
Now, we all go through a phase in life when we think we're hot shit, smarter and brighter than everybody else.
This is okay, provided one's still young and has a long future ahead, with time enough to learn reality and to accept and adjust. But if one has this attitude into old age, there's likely to be problems, big problems.
In the case of the brain-damaged primitive, I'm mostly concerned because I suspect that rather than looking around for a real job, he's probably trying to set up some sort of home-based computer business.
The last time he did that, he thought he was smarter than the Internal Revenue Service, and tried to get away with something.
Well, he didn't get away with it.
Usually an experience like this, and one time only, is enough to convince an ordinary person that no, one's not smarter than the Internal Revenue Service, after which that person becomes more, uh, honest and straightforward in reporting income and expenses.
But the brain-damaged primitive is a primitive, and as we all know, a primitive never learns, persisting in making the same mistakes over and over and over again.
He's gonna try to outsmart the IRS again.
I suggest he not even try, but the brain-damaged primitive doesn't pay attention to franksolich.
- - - - - - - - - -
In case one's not aware, and probably 99% of everybody's not aware and doesn't care, a month from now, on November 22, the Friday before Thanksgiving, Hollywood's releasing a movie, Nebraska.
And it was actually filmed in Nebraska. I dunno why, but most films about Nebraska have been shot in Iowa, South Dakota, Colorado, Wyoming, and Kansas, never in Nebraska.
Not only was Nebraska filmed in Nebraska, but it was mostly filmed right around here, on the eastern edge of the Sandhills. About 80% of it was filmed within only miles of where franksolich lives, the remainder in southeastern Nebraska and a few parts further west, out in Wyoming.
And I almost had a part in that movie.
(Not that it was any big deal; there's so few people around here and they needed a lot of "extras," and so probably about one out of every ten inhabitants were offered bit parts. I read somewhere the other day that 403 native "extras" made some pin-money.)
What happened the summer they were here making the movie, someone from casting spied me chitchatting with a waitress at a VFW Club, ordering a hamburger well done, pressed down hard on the grill so as to squeeze out every drop of grease, and said to his co-casting-worker, "that guy, that guy over there, now, he's the quintessential Nebraskan; he's Nebraskan to the core. We gotta get him."
They planned on giving me a ten-second cameo role, no spoken part but the non-verbal language easily interpreted by a movie audience, as I in the background placed an order with a waitress while the two main actors in the movie dialogued in front.
Ten seconds of work, and two hundred and fifty bucks.
Not bad work, if one can get it.
But it never happened. It almost happened, but didn't.
Because I disguise my deafness, the guy from casting approached me, a piece of paper in his hand, and supposing I could hear, started yakking away a mile a minute.
I had no idea what he wanted, but he seemed the sort that tries to sell Amway or other stuff that one doesn't really want, and so I brushed him aside, saying I wasn't interested.
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I had no idea what he wanted, but he seemed the sort that tries to sell Amway or other stuff that one doesn't really want, and so I brushed him aside, saying I wasn't interested.
I'm sure the DUmmies will recognize that as a subterfuge, that coach actually is in the movie, and if they flock to their local theaters and watch the film very, very carefully, several times, they will get a glimpse of the real franksolich.
Finally, they'll experience the last sight dear Andy ever saw.
I expect poor, addled grasswipe Judy Smith to buy at least four tickets.
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I'm sure the DUmmies will recognize that as a subterfuge, that coach actually is in the movie, and if they flock to their local theaters and watch the film very, very carefully, several times, they will get a glimpse of the real franksolich.
Finally, they'll experience the last sight dear Andy ever saw.
I expect poor, addled grasswipe Judy Smith to buy at least four tickets.
I would've been in the scene at the bar, where Swede cooks.
It's in the movie, that scene, but I dunno if Swede, the cook of Norwegian derivation whose specialty is Italianate cuisine, got in it. He may have.
Again, if one sees the movie, look for the scene where everybody's dining.
The chair on the left hand side against the wall is the one where I actually usually sit.
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Well, in case walrus-face missed it, and he probably did, yesterday (Monday) there were various primitives inquiring about the whereabouts and the well-being of the locust primitive, who's been absent from Skins's island for more than two weeks now.
The locust primitive was (is) a reasonably junior primitive, with nowhere the status of the brain-damaged primitive, who's been on Skins's island for more than ten years now, and who perhaps thinks he got himself fairly well-known and well-liked.
Apparently not, because during his absence of about seven weeks, no one, but no one, inquired of the whereabouts or the well-being of walrus-face. Not even his "best friends" on Skins's island, the cbayer primitive or Skippy from New York City.
The primitives care about some newbie evaporating, but they obviously don't care about the brain-damaged primitive. He could lay down and die today, and the primitives wouldn't even notice.
Only we here in the DUmpster, and his former co-workers, who check this thread every day, seem to care.
It looks as if the brain-damaged primitive isn't the hot shit he thinks he is.
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Well, in case walrus-face missed it, and he probably did, yesterday (Monday) there were various primitives inquiring about the whereabouts and the well-being of the locust primitive, who's been absent from Skins's island for more than two weeks now.
The locust primitive was (is) a reasonably junior primitive, with nowhere the status of the brain-damaged primitive, who's been on Skins's island for more than ten years now, and who perhaps thinks he got himself fairly well-known and well-liked.
Apparently not, because during his absence of about seven weeks, no one, but no one, inquired of the whereabouts or the well-being of walrus-face. Not even his "best friends" on Skins's island, the cbayer primitive or Skippy from New York City.
The primitives care about some newbie evaporating, but they obviously don't care about the brain-damaged primitive. He could lay down and die today, and the primitives wouldn't even notice.
Only we here in the DUmpster, and his former co-workers, who check this thread every day, seem to care.
It looks as if the brain-damaged primitive isn't the hot shit he thinks he is.
He's just shit. :pokingpoop:
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He's just shit. :pokingpoop:
I think the brain-damaged primitive has an ego problem, and a serious one.
I think he really doesn't care that people, including his fellow primitives, don't like him.
If that's not sociopathic thinking, I dunno what is.
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I'm sure the DUmmies will recognize that as a subterfuge, that coach actually is in the movie, and if they flock to their local theaters and watch the film very, very carefully, several times, they will get a glimpse of the real franksolich.
For the record, Nebraska was filmed mostly in Plainview, Nebraska, which was renamed "Hawthorne" in the movie. I dunno why; "Hawthorne" sounds more Iowan than Nebraskan.
Plainview, population circa 1,500 is the next city west and north of Pierce, population circa 1,600, where that big automobile auction was held some weeks ago. Pierce is the largest city in Nebraska without a restaurant, not even a couple of sit-down booths in a convenience store, and when people from Pierce choose to dine out, they either drive to the big city thirty miles south, or to Plainview, fifteen miles the other way.
Plainview's got lots of places to dine.
However, franksolich was not "discovered," like Lana Turner behind the soda-fountain of a drug-store, at the VFW Club in Plainview. I was dining in the VFW Club in Creighton, population circa 1,500, which is about twenty miles north of Pierce (or a little bit east and north of Plainview).
Pierce is the county seat and largest town, but Plainview and Creighton have places to eat, motels, bowling alleys, and hospitals, none of which Pierce has.
Their casting people went all over the place, looking for "extras."
They found me, as mentioned, but I of course declined to be one.
To complicate matters further, the restaurant scene which would've included me if I'd been cooperative, was filmed at the bar in town where I live (i.e., the nearest town from here), which is a few counties over from Pierce, Plainview, and Creighton, even though it ostensibly took place in "Hawthorne."
Hollywood people don't do things the easy way. And pay through the nose because of it.
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Well, well, well.
My, how the mighty have fallen.
DainBramaged (39,132 posts) Wed Oct 16, 2013, 10:11 PM
The fat lady has sung
after which a photoshopped photograph of John Boehner
http://sync.democraticunderground.com/10023867556
Even though this was posted in "General Discussion," the Grand Central Station of Skins's island, it elicited but one single primitive response.
One thinks of the days when the brain-damaged primitive's campfires ran for miles and miles of comments.
One suspects walrus-face got the wrong fat lady.
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Well, well, well.
My, how the mighty have fallen.
http://sync.democraticunderground.com/10023867556
Even though this was posted in "General Discussion," the Grand Central Station of Skins's island, it elicited but one single primitive response.
One thinks of the days when the brain-damaged primitive's campfires ran for miles and miles of comments.
One suspects walrus-face got the wrong fat lady.
He was expecting a cow walrus . . .
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Well, well, well.
Another day's march nearer the mausoleum.
And given that he's older than most of us here, probably the brain-damaged primitive has fewer miles remaining.
He should think about things like this; he's not immortal.
I figure walrus-face is up to two things right now, neither of them good.
Number one, he's probably decided to get a first-class ticket, a reclining chair in the observation car, on the disability gravy-train.
Before I go any further, I will admit that probably the brain-damaged primitive has a better case for getting aboard than do most of his fellow primitives. He's short one eye, he's missing part of his brain, and he's got all sorts of mental problems that prevent him from getting along with other people.
But still.....to go on the disability gravy-train, one has to admit that one is "handicapped," useless, of no good to anyone. That takes guts and courage franksolich doesn't have himself; it's an admission I myself am not willing to make, not even with a gun pointed at my head.
It's like selling one's soul.....and at a rather cheap price.
And number two, walrus-face in addition to that, because disability would be "too little," not lucrative enough, is probably scouting around for ways to earn money on the side, in some sort of home-based computer business. But it'd have to be cash-only, and a secret.
He's a primitive; he still thinks he's smarter than the Internal Revenue Service.
The brain-damaged primitive should just take early retirement on social security--he's eligible for it--and resolve to live a modest, discreet, austere sort of life, so as to keep out of trouble.
Like that's going to happen, though.
The guy's a schmekele.
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Well, well, well.
Another day's march nearer the mausoleum.
And given that he's older than most of us here, probably the brain-damaged primitive has fewer miles remaining.
He should think about things like this; he's not immortal.
I figure walrus-face is up to two things right now, neither of them good.
Number one, he's probably decided to get a first-class ticket, a reclining chair in the observation car, on the disability gravy-train.
Before I go any further, I will admit that probably the brain-damaged primitive has a better case for getting aboard than do most of his fellow primitives. He's short one eye, he's missing part of his brain, and he's got all sorts of mental problems that prevent him from getting along with other people.
But still.....to go on the disability gravy-train, one has to admit that one is "handicapped," useless, of no good to anyone. That takes guts and courage franksolich doesn't have himself; it's an admission I myself am not willing to make, not even with a gun pointed at my head.
It's like selling one's soul.....and at a rather cheap price.
And number two, walrus-face in addition to that, because disability would be "too little," not lucrative enough, is probably scouting around for ways to earn money on the side, in some sort of home-based computer business. But it'd have to be cash-only, and a secret.
He's a primitive; he still thinks he's smarter than the Internal Revenue Service.
The brain-damaged primitive should just take early retirement on social security--he's eligible for it--and resolve to live a modest, discreet, austere sort of life, so as to keep out of trouble.
Like that's going to happen, though.
The guy's a schmekele.
There's a pretty good reason why you should not make that admission, ever. Admitting that you're no good to anyone is wrong on many levels. Damn, Frank, you're good for us. And, in a backhanded way, the primitives themselves, in that you show them the error of their ways (Hell, we all do that). Since God gave all of us the Gift of Free Will, it is up to each person--even the primitives--to do something positive about it.
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^Concur. Coach is an inspiration.
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While waiting for the first snow of winter to descend--it didn't--I tried reading myself to sleep last night.
I was reading Sigmund Freud about the nature of the sociopathic individual; the sort of person who doesn't care what other people think of him.
It was very troubling.
One hopes walrus-face puts some thought into what he's contemplating doing.
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While waiting for the first snow of winter to descend--it didn't--I tried reading myself to sleep last night.
I was reading Sigmund Freud about the nature of the sociopathic individual; the sort of person who doesn't care what other people think of him.
It was very troubling.
One hopes walrus-face puts some thought into what he's contemplating doing.
I rarely care about what people I don't care about think about me. **** 'em.
As for snow, and maybe Karin can confirm/deny this, the Tug Hill plateau region of north-central NY was supposed to get from 5" to 9" of snow last night. Too damned early for that. At least the deer should be moving for the NY NZ rifle opener (the riffle opener was last week) on Saturday.
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I rarely care about what people I don't care about think about me. **** 'em.
That's true, but here, we're talking about walrus-face and his buddies, his pals, his friends.
It doesn't seem to bother him the least that they don't care about him; that the first moment he got into some trouble, they ran away from him as if he has leprosy.
He doesn't care that they don't care.
He doesn't give a ****.
That's sociopathy for sure.
Last night, when I finally got to sleep, I dreamed I was playing snow-croquet with Carl Jung, Wendell Willkie, Mrs. Patrick Campbell, Florence Nightingale, and Mohandas Gandhi.
I brought up my concern that the brain-damaged primitive's about to do something really stupid.
They all pointed out there's nothing anyone can do about it.....other than pray that nobody but himself gets hurt.
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Last night, when I finally got to sleep, I dreamed I was playing snow-croquet with Carl Jung, Wendell Willkie, Mrs. Patrick Campbell, Florence Nightingale, and Mohandas Gandhi.
I brought up my concern that the brain-damaged primitive's about to do something really stupid.
They all pointed out there's nothing anyone can do about it.....other than pray that nobody but himself gets hurt.
Exactly. Good and decent people should stay clear. (Laughing about the brain-damaged primitive's predicament might be allowed.)
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Exactly. Good and decent people should stay clear. (Laughing about the brain-damaged primitive's predicament might be allowed.)
I'm wondering.
Exactly how dangerous would a one-eyed guy be, a guy who's never handled a firearm in his life, and he takes one to his former workplace.....
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I'm wondering.
Exactly how dangerous would a one-eyed guy be, a guy who's never handled a firearm in his life, and he takes one to his former workplace.....
Let's hope that we don't find out! :o
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I'm wondering.
Exactly how dangerous would a one-eyed guy be, a guy who's never handled a firearm in his life, and he takes one to his former workplace.....
Sneak up on his bad side. He'll never see it coming.
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Let's hope that we don't find out! :o
Well, I haven't been following the news of urban northern New Jersey just for the weather reports.
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Sneak up on his bad side. He'll never see it coming.
I hope one of the mechanics there keeps a 1-3/8" S/K adjustable wrench with a 17" handle handy, within reach at all times.
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Around here, we have cornfields that get done up with mazes and people in costumes for Halloween. I would think New Jersey would have the same sort of thing going on.
Doug does possess several qualifications that would suit him well to work at a haunted corn maze, at least until he gets himself back on his feet again. With his grumpy disposition and ugly looks, walrus-face would make a truly horrifying ghoul in a corn maze.
He could make a mint going around all night chasing little children, teenagers, and other paying customers, all while whooping and hollering like a banshee, while at the same time popping his glass eye in and out of its socket in his head.
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Around here, we have cornfields that get done up with mazes and people in costumes for Halloween. I would think New Jersey would have the same sort of thing going on.
Doug does possess several qualifications that would suit him well to work at a haunted corn maze, at least until he gets himself back on his feet again. With his grumpy disposition and ugly looks, walrus-face would make a truly horrifying ghoul in a corn maze.
He could make a mint going around all night chasing little children, teenagers, and other paying customers, all while whooping and hollering like a banshee, while at the same time popping his glass eye in and out of its socket in his head.
That's work, though; that demands sweat and toil.
The brain-damaged primitive's not interested in that.
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That's work, though; that demands sweat and toil.
The brain-damaged primitive's not interested in that.
I can't really tell how big he is from his photos, but he may very well be of the size where just standing up causes him to sweat profusely.
Corn maze work is typically pretty frosty work here, so he might get some relief from his size. Since he'd be doing ghoul work, he'd also be getting paid to be his natural self, which is to say being disagreeable and mean spirited to others around him.
I would hope that if he does take my advice, at the very least he paints the back of his eyeball with some glow-in-the-dark paint, just in case he drops it in the dark, during all the revelry.
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The brain-damaged primitive's pretty short, only 5'10" he alleges, and he alleges to be circa 240 pounds, but the latter, I don't believe. He's probably a little heavier than that, and has, if not dropsy, at least incipient dropsy, retaining water because of his heavy drug use.
The news in urban northern New Jersey is pretty boring today; about the biggest "event" in walrus-face's town is that someone painted their house pink and purple. I forget why, though.
And if the brain-damaged primitive ever gets tired of paying rent, I guess New Jersey has the longest time in which home-foreclosures are started, and completed; more than a thousand days, almost three years. So now one knows how Fat Che's little brother (another primitive) gets on; his house went into foreclosure a very long time ago, but he doesn't seem to to have moved.
Fat Che's little brother, he of the expanded rectal aperture and the $900 heating bill, lives in a blue area of urban northern New Jersey, somewhere near the brain-damaged primitive. One wonders if they've ever met.
But anyway, if walrus-face ever gets tired of paying rent, he's in a good place, where he can go squat in some foreclosed house, living for free, because the bank's not likely to kick him out for a long time.
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Oh man.....the thought of DUmmies running around on Halloween in costume.
We should pick out some costume ideas for them.
Lady Freedom Returns could dress up as a hobo.... :rofl:
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Oh man.....the thought of DUmmies running around on Halloween in costume.
We should pick out some costume ideas for them.
Lady Freedom Returns could dress up as a hobo.... :rofl:
How would you be able to tell when she was or wasn't in costume?
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Oh my.
I was again thinking about the brain-damaged primitive, and wondering if he's gone anywhere to get help, as he needs a lot of help, to straighten out the mess he's made of his life.
If I were a psychiatrist or law-enforcement, based solely upon the hate and rage and irrationality walrus-face has expressed over the years on Skins's island, I'd have him taken into protective custody and then chained to a wall of a fantasy hospital, so he can't hurt himself any more.
(All the other stuff he does in real life that we don't know about, would just be so much more gravy in getting him put away.)
But of course the brain-damaged primitive hasn't asked for help; after all, in his world-view, he's perfectly sane, and it's the rest of the world that's screwed up.
- - - - - - - - - -
franksolich got a "lesson" in what happens when one should ask for help, but doesn't, last night.
I was up all night long, waiting for a friend to arrive here.
The friend had telephoned earlier in the week, leaving a message. I can't hear, but I saw the little red light on the answering-machine blinking, and was curious. (Usually I wait until someone who can hear shows up, and listens to it, communicating the message to me.) I turned the volume up to "max" and leaned over to plant my chin and throat on the machine, hoping to pick something up via bone-conduction.
I picked up part of it; that this friend was coming here Friday night. There was a lot more than that to it, but I guessed I'd gotten the gist of the message.
Inbetweentimes, various people who could've listened to the message for me, were here. All of them have listened to my telephone messages before, and not a single one of them considers it a problem, a nuisance, doing me this favor.
But pride and vanity were my downfall; I was "tired" of always asking for help, always having to lean on other people. I'd gotten the message, so I didn't need any help.
I stayed up all night long Friday night, waiting for this friend to show.
I missed my sleep, and I like sleep about as much as others like a good steak.
Finally, a little after 5:00 a.m., the neighbor showed up, bringing a tractor he's storing here for the winter, and seeing me still up, listened to the message for me. The friend is in fact coming, but next Friday night.
I missed my sleep, and I like sleep about as much as others like a good steak.
Bad things happen to people when they should ask for help, but don't.
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Well, this thread has a month more to go, after which I'll retire it, since it's pretty much assured the permanent number one spot in "search results" on google, when someone--usually a prospective employer--looks up the brain-damaged primitive on the internet.
This whole kerfluffle could've been avoided if walrus-face had taken my advice from the first page, in which it was promised that if the brain-damaged primitive showed up on Skins's island after his employer and co-workers found out he'd been bad-mouthing them, to explain things and apologize to his fellow primitives for having been such a rectal aperture, that this thread would go nowhere.
But did the brain-damaged primitive pay any attention to franksolich?
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I see someone near the brain-damaged primitive recently won $457,000 in the New Jersey lottery, but it's not him because if it had been, walrus-face would be bragging it up on Skins's island.
You know, there's so many ways one can win in life's lottery, and one wonders why walrus-face has never considered that. He's probably won a "jackpot" here and there, but ignored his good fortune because it didn't meet his narrow interpretation of "winning."
Take franksolich, for example. I come from a family where male baldness seems to occur about the early 30s, all my (now late) hippie older brothers losing their precious strands.
Well, I'm much older than my early 30s now, and that cup appears to have passed from me, still possessing thick luxuriant dark brown hair without an iota of grey. It's very handy for disguising the absence of ears, making me look utterly normal.
I won the lottery in this respect, and I thank God every day of my life for it.
I can't think of any way in which walrus-face won this lottery or that lottery, but surely he must've won some things over his sixty-two years of life; he just has to think about it.
One can even snatch a "win" from the jaws of utter disaster.
For example, the brain-damaged primitive had to have part of the inside of his skull surgically removed; think of how much worse it would've been, if he'd had to have all of it removed, as what sometimes happens to other people. He got off easy, but probably doesn't appreciate it.
Or for another example, apparently the brain-damaged primitive had to have one eye surgically removed; think of how much worse it would've been, if he'd had to have both of them removed, as what sometimes happens to other people. Again, he got off easy, but probably doesn't appreciate it.
I suppose that's the difference between a primitive and a decent and civilized person; the decent and civilized person takes what life gives him, and makes the best of it, while a primitive ignores what he's been given and instead whines about what he didn't get.
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I'm reminded of an incident two summers ago, when I was standing out on the back porch, smoking a cigarette admiring the panorama of the slowly-awakening Sandhills of Nebraska. It was about 5:00 a.m., and nobody comes out here to the middle of nowhere until after 6:00 a.m.
Then suddenly, a guy and a femme came walking out the back door. (Since I'm deaf, I have no idea if someone's around.) The guy was from the next county over, and had come by to pick up a piece of farm machinery the neighbor was loaning him. Both are in their early 30s. The femme was (is) strikingly good-looking even at that age, someone any red-blooded male would hop around with in the sack.
I wasn't concerned about the guy; I was concerned about her, being exposed as I was, and they were blocking my way back inside the house, where I could get decent. Reverting to my nerves of steel and audacious confidence, I kept my eye-contact riveted on her, hoping she wouldn't notice, uh, other things.
The guy and I talked for three or four minutes, while he too puffed on a cigarette. She just stood there and stared, I was hoping at my face.
Then they turned around and went to the garage, while I hurriedly donned a pair of gym shorts.
For the longest time, I worried about this, because she's a respectable woman and one wishes respectable people to think well of one. I saw her a few times therafter, but said nothing, hoping she wouldn't remember.
But then this last summer, I learned I'd been a topic of conversation between her and another woman, in which the other woman said it was "too bad" franksolich was born without ears, deaf. "Imagine what he could be, if he could only hear," she commented.
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it," the first woman said; "after all, he won life's lottery in other ways."
I have no idea what she meant by that, but I assume it's good.
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I hope walrus face is getting as much enjoyment out of frank's updates every morning as I do. :rofl:
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I hope walrus face is getting as much enjoyment out of frank's updates every morning as I do. :rofl:
You know, besides reading Dale Carnegie and Norman Vincent Peale, I think the brain-damaged primitive would also learn a lot reading Elbert Hubbard.
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I guess it should be an object of gratitude, losing only one eye out of two, and losing only a large portion of one's brain, but not all.
But I wonder what was contained in that big glob of cerebral tissue the surgeon excised. What was lost in that squishy double handful of quivering brain matter when the operating room nurse tossed it, splat, into the surgical waste bin?
That lost quarter of Doug's brain likely held the potential for Doug to behave like a decent, civilized person, along with miscellaneous stuff like piano lessons and details of personal hygiene learned from his mother.
The hospital's "hazardous waste" incinerator vaporized any chance for Doug to interact with normal people in an acceptable manner.
The popped eyeball was small potatoes by comparison.
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Some jewels from the Sage of East Aurora (upstate New York):
(Born in 1856, he went down with the Lusitania in 1915.)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/elberthubbard_zpsc2c09ca5.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/elberthubbard_zpsc2c09ca5.jpg.html)
Do not take life too seriously. You will never get out of it alive.
A friend is one who knows you, and loves you just the same.
Responsibility is the price of freedom.
Never explain - your friends do not need it and your enemies will not believe you anyway.
A little more persistence, a little more effort, and what seemed hopeless failure may turn to glorious success.
Positive anything is better than negative nothing.
The best preparation for good work tomorrow is to do good work today.
To avoid criticism, do nothing, say nothing, and be nothing.
Every man is a damn fool for at least five minutes every day; wisdom consists in not exceeding the limit.
The teacher is the one who gets the most out of the lessons, and the true teacher is the learner.
One machine can do the work of fifty ordinary men. No machine can do the work of one extraordinary man.
He who does not understand your silence will probably not understand your words.
Do your work with your whole heart, and you will succeed - there's so little competition.
God will not look you over for medals degrees or diplomas, but for scars.
Character is the result of two things: mental attitude and the way we spend our time.
Art is not a thing; it is a way.
The greatest mistake you can make in life is continually fearing that you'll make one.
Know what you want to do, hold the thought firmly, and do every day what should be done, and every sunset will see you that much nearer to your goal.
Be pleasant until ten o'clock in the morning and the rest of the day will take care of itself.
The love we give away is the only love we keep.
The final proof of greatness lies in being able to endure criticism without resentment.
How many a man has thrown up his hands at a time when a little more effort, a little more patience would have achieved success.
Life in abundance comes only through great love.
Our desires always disappoint us; for though we meet with something that gives us satisfaction, yet it never thoroughly answers our expectation.
Yeah, I think gaining inspiration from Elbert Hubbard would do walrus-face a great deal of good, even turn his life around.
One wonders if the brain-damaged primitive has a female relative or friend who knows stitching and emobroidery, who could sew these words of wisdom onto cloth mats, and have them framed for his walls.
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^Awesome stuff Coach.
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That lost quarter of Doug's brain likely held the potential for Doug to behave like a decent, civilized person, along with miscellaneous stuff like piano lessons and details of personal hygiene learned from his mother.
The hospital's "hazardous waste" incinerator vaporized any chance for Doug to interact with normal people in an acceptable manner.
I've been immersed in studying the trepanation practices of the Pacific Islanders for a couple of months now. Trepanation appears to have been done for a number of reasons. Sometimes it was used to try to correct a sour attitude.
My question is which came first, Doug's bad attitude, or the removal of part of his brain?
I also wonder if afterwards, like the Pacific Islanders, his operating surgeon used a carefully carved piece of coconut shell to bung up the hole in his skull.
If so, I hope that Doug's surgeon took lessons in coconut shell carving from the Pacific Island masters, rather than just winging it. I wouldn't want Doug's piece of coconut shell do be causing him any discomfort.
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^Awesome stuff Coach.
Elbert Hubbard was popular during the 1880s and 1890s, into the first decade of the twentieth century; he was oftentimes compared with his ideal, Benjamin Franklin. This was during the Chautauqua era, the golden age of education and self-improvement.
He had a "colony" of "artists" and "intellectuals" living with him in a rustic setting; among other things, they produced fine handcrafted furniture, which sold for good prices in their day.
I used to have books of his, at the time circa 90 years old, until I decided to go to the socialist paradises of the workers and peasants, and gave them away. These were no ordinary books; the "colony" didn't stint any money or quality putting them out.
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The google search results for today, October 27:
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/db1027-1_zpscb8cefcc.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/db1027-1_zpscb8cefcc.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/db1027-2_zps0487660d.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/db1027-2_zps0487660d.jpg.html)
Remember, all of this could've been easily avoided if walrus-face had taken franksolich's advice and acted quickly the day after Labor Day, making a clean breast of things to his fellow primitives, and apologizing to them for having been such a rectal aperture.
Then this thread would've died soon after birth.
There's a downside to not taking franksolich's advice.
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^Put me down for always taking Coach's advice !
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^Put me down for always taking Coach's advice !
I don't know why the primitives are so resistant to my advice and counsel.
franksolich's advice and counsel is strictly non-partisan.
As has been said about me s-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o many times in real life, there isn't a single malicious bone in this body. Even if I wished to do harm, I couldn't do it, not having the means.
<<<doesn't offer advice to decent and civilized people, because decent and civilized people don't need to be reminded to not do something stupid.
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I don't know why the primitives are so resistant to my advice and counsel.
franksolich's advice and counsel is strictly non-partisan.
As has been said about me s-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o many times in real life, there isn't a single malicious bone in this body.
<<<Doesn't offer advice to decent and civilized people, because decent and civilized people don't need to be reminded to not do something stupid.
OH YES we/they do. Most of us here think of our selves as decent and civilized, yet occasionally human nature kicks in.
It is said one cannot cheat a honest man, WRONG same as sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never harm me.
Both sayings some of us were brought up with have to have been placed in the minds of the innocent by the evil intent.
Do not think that the innocent and worthy are free from the evil intent of others.
Question here is if you had the means of evil intent------
" Even if I wished to do harm, I couldn't do it, not having the means."
Could there ever come a time when you were hoodwinked into something unusual ?
edited to clean up formatting only; no text was changed
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.....[was there ever] a time when you were hoodwinked into something unusual?
Oh my yes.
But I escaped whole and unscathed, due to some wondrous teflonesque skill in my being (God gave it to me; I didn't create it).
<<<can get out of predicaments faster than a pig sliding on ice.
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As has been said about me s-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o many times in real life, there isn't a single malicious bone in this body. Even if I wished to do harm, I couldn't do it, not having the means.
Some of the DUmmies, like poor addled grasswipe Judy Smith, remember dear Andy's tragic fate.
Just because there's no evidence doesn't mean it shouldn't be investigated.
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Well, I scoured Skins's island, looking to see if the brain-damaged primitive showed up the past few days, to making a clean breast of things to his fellow primitives, describing to them what happened, and apologizing to them for having been such a rectal aperture.
No sign of walrus-face, either under his usual screen-name or a new monicker.
One wonders if he's checked himself--voluntarily or involuntarily--into the psychiatric ward of a hospital; as God and we all know, he's got lots and lots of really serious psychological problems, and needs some heavy-duty help to turn his life around.
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One thing that's always mystified me about the brain-damaged primitive is that he made it a point to appear as ugly and repulsive as possible. That, I could never understand.
Granted, walrus-face wasn't born aesthetic, but there's plenty of things he could've done, to minimize or even cover up his ugliness. It's almost as if he were saying, "**** you world, I'm going to make myself as loathesome as possible."
And then he wondered why he was so friendless and alone.
I wonder what's up with that, people who have means to make themselves look better than they really are, but who choose instead to further uglify themselves.
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One thing that's always mystified me about the brain-damaged primitive is that he made it a point to appear as ugly and repulsive as possible. That, I could never understand.
Granted, walrus-face wasn't born aesthetic, but there's plenty of things he could've done, to minimize or even cover up his ugliness. It's almost as if he were saying, "**** you world, I'm going to make myself as loathesome as possible."
I wonder what's up with that, people who have means to make themselves look better than they really are, but who choose instead to further uglify themselves.
Yeah, he could at least shave, scrub up, get a respectable haircut, and polish that glass eye to a high sheen.
But instead he works at looking like a slob.
Maybe the moonbats are actually on to something with that "self esteem" horseshit.
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Yeah, he could at least shave, scrub up, get a respectable haircut, and polish that glass eye to a high sheen.
But instead he works at looking like a slob.
Maybe the moonbats are actually on to something with that "self esteem" horseshit.
Beauty is in the glass eye of the beholder.
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Beauty is in the glass eye of the beholder.
That's H5-worthy. Duly given.
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Beauty is in the glass eye of the beholder.
That's actually pretty good. I am pleasantly surprised. I may have to borrow that.
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Well, another night, and another day, have passed.
I checked the crime news and police blotters of urban northern New Jersey, but came up blank.
Either the brain-damaged primitive was caught before I started checking the news a few days ago, or he in fact did try something, but a quick-thinking mechanic at his former place of employment disarmed him, and walrus-face got put away as a mental, and not a criminal, case, in which instance it's not likely to be in the newspapers.
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Well, another night is history, and time for the brain-damaged primitive to pack up his tent and gear and make one more day's march nearer the mausoleum.
I'm wondering if walrus-face has something up his sleeve.
In the race for Top DUmmie of 2013, previous contenders such as the convenience store primitive, the locust primitive, the big guy from Omaha, :jugs: :yahoo:, Dennis the Menace, the Taverner primitive, &c., &c., &c. all seem to be fading in the stretch.
Leaving just nadin and the brain-damaged primitive out in front.
However.....nadin right now at the moment appears to be unvanquishable, and it would take something big, really big, to get walrus-face catapulted ahead of her.
Nominations for the top DUmmies begin on Thanksgiving Eve, about the same time this thread is going to be retired, having fulfilled its purpose. There's ten days for nominations, and after that, another ten days for campaigning and voting.
One wonders if walrus-face is laying low, with the idea of doing something really big, really spectacular, really extraordinary, after nominations begin, so that when voting starts, he's way out in front.
I dunno. It's just an idle speculation.
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One thing that's always mystified me about the brain-damaged primitive is that he made it a point to appear as ugly and repulsive as possible. That, I could never understand.
Doug is so unattractive, he would have looked right at home in Pitt's wedding party.
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That cheap bastage probably tries to steal and hide the 3D glasses at a movie theater.
Then demands a 50% discount to boot.
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That cheap bastage probably tries to steal and hide the 3D glasses at a movie theater.
Then demands a 50% discount.
I'm still wondering how much, over the years of his employment, toilet paper, pens, paper-clips, rubber bands, remote controls, &c., &c., &c., walrus-face stole from the office. And perhaps even some mechanic's tools, nuts and bolts, screws, cans of motor oil, grease cartridges, &c., &c., &c.
Not to mention all his posting on Skins's island while on the time-clock.
He's a primitive, after all; it's in his nature to steal, even when buying something's simpler and easier.
This after all is a guy who admitted to reading Car and Driver and Road and Track for sale at the neighborhoood convenience store, rather than buying the magazines, as if the convenience store is a public library. To top it off, all his fingering of those publications probably smeared the pages--they don't make ink like they used to--making the magazines unsaleable to someone else.
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I'm still wondering how much, over the years of his employment, toilet paper, pens, paper-clips, rubber bands, remote controls, &c., &c., &c., walrus-face stole from the office. And perhaps even some mechanic's tools, nuts and bolts, screws, cans of motor oil, grease cartridges, &c., &c., &c.
Not to mention all his posting on Skins's island while on the time-clock.
He's a primitive, after all; it's in his nature to steal, even when buying something's simpler and easier.
This after all is a guy who admitted to reading Car and Driver and Road and Track for sale at the neighborhoood convenience store, rather than buying the magazines, as if the convenience store is a public library. To top it off, all his fingering of those publications probably smeared the pages--they don't make ink like they used to--making the magazines unsaleable to someone else.
I doubt Doug Bulna has the knowledge or skill to use any of the emboldened items.
He is a DUmmie, therefore, merely the act of "sticking it to the man", is reason enough.
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I doubt Doug Bulna has the knowledge or skill to use any of the emboldened items.
He is a DUmmie, therefore, merely the act of "sticking it to the man", is reason enough.
Oh, I'm sure just taking things was a habit of his, just taking things he didn't need or could use, so as to get back at his employer.
<<<has seen it happen, among the primitive classes.
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Oh, I'm sure just taking things was a habit of his, just taking things he didn't need or could use, so as to get back at his employer.
<<<has seen it happen, among the primitive classes.
That part is seems to be a major part of a liberal/democRatTick life style, not just Doug Bulna's.
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I'm still wondering how much, over the years of his employment, toilet paper, pens, paper-clips, rubber bands, remote controls, &c., &c., &c., walrus-face stole from the office. And perhaps even some mechanic's tools, nuts and bolts, screws, cans of motor oil, grease cartridges, &c., &c., &c.
If you pick up his trail on eBay you'll probably see alternators, transmission parts, water pumps, master cylinders, airbag assemblies, and all manner of parts for Government Motors cars being auctioned off.
He probably couldn't safely trundle home with fenders or engine blocks, but anything smaller most likely has shown up in his auctions.
And it's been going on for years.
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If you pick up his trail on eBay you'll probably see alternators, transmission parts, water pumps, master cylinders, airbag assemblies, and all manner of parts for Government Motors cars being auctioned off.
He probably couldn't safely trundle home with fenders or engine blocks, but anything smaller most likely has shown up in his auctions.
And it's been going on for years.
I hope he stashed some spare parts in the rafters at home.
He's gonna need them.
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I hope he stashed some spare parts in the rafters at home.
He's gonna need them.
You know, I'm wondering if the Jehovah's Witnesses could help the brain-damaged primitive.
When I was in high school, the head janitor was some guy, Sam. "Sam" was his first name, but I don't remember his last name. (We kids didn't call him "Sam," of course, but rather "Mr." whatever his last name was.) He was a Jehovah's Witness.
I talked with him a few times. but never got to know him well, given the difficulties in communicating (difficulties in communicating with me, not any problems from his end). The longest conversation I ever had with him was something over five minutes, when I was late leaving school one day.
"Sam" was a short, middle-aged, guy, neat and trim, and I suppose women found him attractive; a regular all-around nice guy, although he talked only when spoken to.
It was during our longest conversation that he revealed that he was once a bad person, his ego running rampant, his pride swollen, his hypocrisy gone amok, lying and cheating and stealing and voting Democrat, an arrogant loud-mouth who didn't listen to what other people said, thinking of himself as smarter and better than everybody and anybody else.
Then one day he told a lie about his boss, and got fired.
He'd had a good job and a good income too, his job dealing with Sandhills real-estate.
This being a small place, word got around, and he couldn't get a job similar with what he once had.
Hitting bottom, he joined the Jehovah's Witnesses, where he learned humility, modesty, good manners, and how to win friends and infuence people. Whereas before, he'd been an angry and pissy person, always feeling sorry for himself, now he was content and happy.
"Sam" died about twenty years after I left town, but I later learned that neither the mortuary nor the local Jehovah's Witnesses temple was large enough to accommodate a memorial service for him, and so it had to be held at the high school football field instead (it was the summer).....and the bleachers were crowded, people coming from counties around to mourn him, and his maligned former boss delivering an awesome eulogy praising his virtues.
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Wow.
This past night, the memory went into overdrive, bringing up reminiscences of people who were (it's safe to assume they're dead now, given that these things happened years and years ago) very much like the brain-damaged primitive, but who later changed and became successful in life.
I wonder if there's a Salvation Army in urban northern New Jersey, and if so, walrus-face should attend their meetings.
I remembered an experience from when I was seven years old, and with my parents in Denver, Colorado. They were there for some sort of hospital convention, and I assume I was along because there was a physician who wanted to examine me (which happened often), who was going to be there at the same time.
Well, a hospital convention can be utterly boring for a kid, especially a deaf one, and the parents recruited two sons of another convention-attender, to babysit me while they were at the meetings. They were both boys, 15 and 16 years old, and from Wilmette, near Chicago, Illinois. That's all I remember of them.
I wanted to see trains, and so they took me to Union Station.
In case one's not aware, Union Station in Denver is located in what was once a red-light district, but now which is slums.
We watched the trains for a while, and then the older boys decided it was time to walk back to the hotel.
While we were walking, we came upon a troupe of Salvation Army musicians giving a concert on a street corner. The phenomenon was new to us, and so we stopped to watch.
I was most entranced by some bald wizened little guy who had an eye that didn't seem to move, as he sang along and rattled a round thing (later described to me as a tambourine). I kept staring at him, open-mouthed; his other eye moved all over the place, but this eye stayed dead center.
When the musicians took a break, I dashed over to him. The two older boys had to follow, not only because I was just seven years old, but also being deaf, there were communication problems in which other people had to stand in for me.
The guy explained that it was a glass eye, and took it out, offering it to me to inspect.
I pulled back; I didn't want to touch anything that'd been inside someone's body orifice (in this case, the hole where an eye'd be, if he had an eye).
There was however a certain joy about him, though; this was a man very happy to be in this world.
He explained to me (through the intermediary of the two babysitters with me) that he'd once been mean, grasping, evil, selfish, greedy. He'd had a wife, Katherine, who loved him to pieces, but whom he beat and abused anyway. He had a little daughter whom he'd neglected. He'd had a good job and made lots of money.
But as he didn't get along with other people, when times got tough, he was the first let go.
Because of his appearance and his negative personality, he couldn't get another job anything like what he'd had before. And he was doing drugs, lots and lots of drugs.
One night, he was beat up by a guy who was angry because he wasn't listening to him, paying attention to him, and ended up in the charity ward of the hospital.
People from the Salvation Army came around, and convinced him he had to change his life, becoming a better person. He got clean and sober, and into a job, but really preferred to be with the caring, loving, giving blue-suited soldierettes of the Salvation Army, and gave up that job to join them.
He said it was the best thing that ever happened to him, and that he thanked God every day for it.
One wonders what musical instrument the brain-damaged primitive plays.
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Whoa.
I'm impressed; it looks as if the Salvation Army could do walrus-face a lot of good; they all look like such nice, caring, giving, compassionate people, and maybe some of what they have, can rub off on him.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/sa1_zpsc15e8104.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/sa1_zpsc15e8104.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/sa2_zps7589873d.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/sa2_zps7589873d.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/sa3_zps802711cf.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/sa3_zps802711cf.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/sa4_zps2cfacc15.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/sa4_zps2cfacc15.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/sa6_zps1f7690fe.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/sa6_zps1f7690fe.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/sa7_zps02a9fd63.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/sa7_zps02a9fd63.jpg.html)
Sowing in the morning, sowing seeds of kindness,
Sowing in the noontide and the dewy eve;
Waiting for the harvest, and the time of reaping,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.
Refrain: Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves,
Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.
Sowing in the sunshine, sowing in the shadows,
Fearing neither clouds nor winter’s chilling breeze;
By and by the harvest, and the labor ended,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.
Refrain:
Going forth with weeping, sowing for the Master,
Though the loss sustained our spirit often grieves;
When our weeping’s over, He will bid us welcome,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.
Refrain:
It doesn't take a whole lot of imagination, to see the brain-damaged primitive in a nifty uniform and hat, beating on a big drum in front of his paunch, and lustily singing along.
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Say Guys and gals, it just occurred to me that we all need to be very careful about casting accusations of past, present or future behavior of anyone by name.
To even suggest a behavior of someone of something that we can not prove could have repercussions we never thought of. We are not messing with a public person one open to criticism, this could become very costly to us in the long run.
Could we find ourselves in a bated bear trap---yup. The more speculation on someone by name the closer to libel and conspiracy to destroy their lives and ability to make a living we become.
Just saying as some posts are making me nervous and become a stepping stone for someone to cause changes in the law.
Example, people use screen names for a reason. To track down the identity of a screen name is in a way an invasion of privacy. Then contacting their employer about a PRANK they pulled, nothing stolen just relocated in the offices, then to wonder if they are a thief, you see where I am going ????
-
you see where I am going ????
No.
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No.
Double no.
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:yawn: :yawn: :yawn: :yawn: :yawn:
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Well, damn.
While puttering around the house--I'm laid low with a really bad cold and a rather unstable cardiac organ--I thought of another possibility for the brain-damaged primitive to turn his life around.
I wonder if somewhere in urban northern New Jersey, there's a store-front gospel chuch.
Back when I was young and in college--this was the early 1980s--one time I went to North Omaha with a roommate of mine, to visit his grandmother. In case one's not aware, at the time, thirty years ago, North Omaha was pretty much an all-black ghetto (although with free-standing houses and lawns rather than tall brick tentaments).
I was probably the only white person in a five-mile radius.
When we were leaving, and walking back to my car, there was an old black gentleman standing on the sidewalk. He wasn't a wino or a bum or anything, being too-well dressed for that part, and a clerical collar besides.
He hailed me and chatted with me, but because I'm deaf, I didn't catch most of what he said, other than an invitation to attend his church. He also called me "brother," and insisted he knew that God had a special plan for me.
Well, I wasn't going to be in North Omaha that following Sunday, but always enthusiastic about supporting worthy religious causes, gave him ten bucks to put in the collection-plate for me.
On the drive back to Lincoln, my roommate mentioned I'd just met someone who'd once been the biggest drug-dealer in Omaha, but who'd turned his life around, becoming a better man. He wasn't caught selling drugs; he was caught cheating on his income taxes.
The Internal Revenue Service hounded him better than any cops could.
Destitute and broke, he had a "come to Jesus" moment, and started a church, "The Most Holy and Sanctified Church of Our Lord Jesus Christ and His Sheep Faithful to the Gospel," which for a strip-mall church was actually doing pretty good. The former drug-dealer and income-tax-evader however insisted upon living in a small sparse room in the back, giving away all donations to those truly in need.
One wonders what walrus-face would look like, in a clerical collar.
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Don't you have to have an actual neck to wear a clerical collar?
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Don't you have to have an actual neck to wear a clerical collar?
Good point.
If our colleague BattleHymn has the time and inclination, I think we'd all like to see walrus-face in both a Salvation Army uniform, and as a minister of the Gospel.
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Good point.
If our colleague BattleHymn has the time and inclination, I think we'd all like to see walrus-face in both a Salvation Army uniform, and as a minister of the Gospel.
If you're refering to a chop, I might be able to pencil something in this evening.
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Good point.
If our colleague BattleHymn has the time and inclination, I think we'd all like to see walrus-face in both a Salvation Army uniform, and as a minister of the Gospel.
Great....then he could minister to LFR and the other homeless DUmmies.
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Okay, while I was in the big city early this afternoon, I thought of another possible inspiration for the brain-damaged primitive so as to get him motivated to improve himself and his life.
Yashoda, the cook of Japanese derivation who's the head chef at the country club, and whose specialty is Germanic cuisine. The femme insists his grumbeersupp un quetschekuche, some sort of potato-and-plum soup, is worth dying for.
Yashoda's a short little guy, maybe in his early 40s. He wears a pince-nez, and bows completely at the waist when greeting someone.
He substitutes for cooks in small-town bars and restaurants when their regular cooks are away for some reason; he says he doesn't have much of a social life, and as long as he's got nothing else to do, he might as well be earning money the nights he's not cheffing at the country club.
When he works at the bar in this town, he also wears rubber golashes, unbuckled, because the floor's concrete, and he says the boots are better for his feet.
Yashoda was born in Japan, and at the age of 16, he apprenticed as a cook on a Japanese fishing boat. He was pretty good at that, but alas at the same time he developed a liking for the bottle. When he was 19 and the boat was in the Mediterranean, he got super drunk one night and assaulted the captain.
He was fired on the spot, and put ashore on Malta.
After he got over his hangover, unlike the convenience store primitive, instead of looking around for social services to support him, he looked for a job, so as to pay his own way. While pounding the pavements of the narrow winding cobblestoned streets of Valletta, he saw a sign advertising a culinary school. In exchange for washing dishes, he got his tuition paid, and as for a place to live, he slept in the attic, doubling as the night watchman for the school.
He graduated with honors, but he didn't want to stick around; he was homesick for Japan, and so decided to work his way home. He crossed the Atlantic, paying his fare by washing dishes, and reaching New York City, began his trek across America. He planned on getting to Seattle, and then working his fare across the Pacific, to back home.
He cooked here-and-there, and about ten years ago, ended up here, on the eastern edge of the Sandhills of Nebraska. Upon seeing his diploma from the culinary school in, of all places, Malta, the country club hired him to be head chef, and he's been there since.
I think he's given up on going back to Japan, as he seems content here.
Now, I'm not suggesting walrus-face enroll in cooking school and then come out here to work--no way--but what I am suggesting is that the brain-damaged primitive follow his example, and take advantage of adversity, rather than sitting around feeling sorry for himself.
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Be careful when suggesting to a lib a job that seems too much like work.
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Be careful when suggesting to a lib a job that seems too much like work.
And even more importantly, one that involves handling food.
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And even more importantly, one that involves handling food.
One would be well advised to exercise prudent caution when feeding Bad Dogs, and Big Dogs !
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Now, I'm not suggesting walrus-face enroll in cooking school and then come out here to work
No way!
Doug is clearly hygiene-challenged.
He could cook in New Jersey, or even better in Massachusetts, but no place to the west or south.
He'd make the cook in Beetle Bailey look clean.
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Well, well.
Another night passed into history, and no sign of the brain-damaged primitive, other than that he's been here to read the latest additions to this thread.
I regret to report however that somebody's indulging in some monkeyjinks here.
Below are the latest results of a google search; please notice the first of the two--the second's just included because I always post both versions of the name.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/db1101-1_zps96585f1d.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/db1101-1_zps96585f1d.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/db1101-2_zps296ddfe6.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/db1101-2_zps296ddfe6.jpg.html)
In the first one, this particular thread's dropped to second place, after having been on the top since, well, forever.
One wonders if walrus-face is trying to bury it.
However, the brain-damaged primitive could've avoided all this as long ago as the day after Labor Day--and here it is, nearly Thanksgiving--if he'd, as I'd advised and counseled on the first page of this thread so very long ago, showed up on Skins's island and explained things to his fellow primitives, and apologized to them for being such a rectal aperture.
If he'd done that, this thread by now would probably be on page 6,379 or something, of a google search.
It seems to me someone should've listened to franksolich.
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Doug Bulna hasn't been listed as an employee of Gearhart Chevrolet, for quite some time.
I think Gearhart may have taken exception to his over the top political stunt of forcing the other employees and customers to watch overtly socialist news on TV.
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You know, sir, fellow Sandhillsian, as my recent reminiscences of people from my past have shown, we all have bad luck. Bad luck strikes everybody about as much as good luck does. And sometimes we make our own bad luck, as these remembered characters, the brain-damaged primitive, and franksolich myself, have demonstated.
It happens; we're all human, and sometimes we make our own bad luck.
The difference between decent and civilized people and the primitives is that we have the capacity to forgive ourselves; okay, we ****ed up, accept, adapt, repair as much of the damage as possible, and move on.
A primitive can't forgive himself for being less than perfect.
And it's singularly odd that two of the most-flawed primitives, nadin and walrus-face, are the two primitives who most think of themselves as perfect, without fault.
Subconsciously however, they both realize they're really ****ed up, and can't forgive themselves. So consciously, they become more and more strident about their perfection, their superiority.
This happens because decent and civilized people are aware of God; maybe not in most cases in a religious sense, but they're aware God Is, God is perfect and they aren't, and there's not a damned thing one can do about it.
God forgives them, so they can forgive themselves.
Remember that the crime of Judas was not that he betrayed Christ (someone had to do it, after all), but rather that, having betrayed Christ, he believed God couldn't forgive him. I'm sure God would've been very happy to forgive Judas, but Judas had to ask for it.
Primitives, refusing to acknowledge God, have no one to forgive them their flaws.
It has to be Hell, being a primitive.
Geezuz. When I think of all the mistakes I made in my life, many of them stupid and even malicious, it's a damned good thing for me that God forgives.....and having accepted God's forgiveness, I've been able to forgive myself.
You have no idea, sir, the mistakes I've made in life.
But I still go on my merry, carefree, light-hearted, mellow, way.....
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I am guessing that Gearhart Chevrolet has been inundated with calls for a Douglas Bulna or Doug Bulna the last few months. Imagine if a bill collector called in attempt to collect monies past due, the main desk at Gearhart would tell her that Douglas Bulna aka Doug Bulna is not available. When pressed, she would be transferred to someone in HR. Lady at HR would refuse to put the Bill Collector in contact with DainBramaged, but would promise to get the message to him. She would also suggest to the bill collector that she google his home address to get in touch with him. If this were to happen, Douglas Bulna aka Doug Bulna aka DainBramaged of Gearhart Chevrolet would yet to respond to the urgent request. I am guessing the bill collector would be waiting forever even if it had been several weeks since this call would have taken place.
I feel sorry for Gearhart Chevrolet if situations such as above have indeed taken place as I imagine they have. Amazingly enough, I also feel sorry for Doug Bulna aka Douglas Bulna aka DainBramaged and wish he would heed fransolovich's advice.
I regret to report however that somebody's indulging in some monkeyjinks here.
Definitely. Doug Bulna aka Douglas Bulna of Gearhart Cheverolet is trying to clean up his image. The "JIZZ" link has been dropped way down in the list. http://trademarks.breanlaw.com/78325173-jizz.html (http://trademarks.breanlaw.com/78325173-jizz.html) JIZZ trademark owned by Douglas C. Bulna - Serial No.78325173 (http://tsdr.uspto.gov/img/78325173/large)
I consider this a wise move on the part of Doug Bulna aka Douglas Bulna of Gearhart Chevrolet fame. I wouldn't want my name, Doug Bulna or Douglas Bulna, to be associated with JIZZ for the rest of my life. I wonder if he could call them and ask them to remove the offending trademark as it has been abandoned since 2005. The primitive should give it a try at least.
As for starting anew with a fresh life, I personally think the Salvation Army is a great idea, fransolich. Sometime this month, the Santas will be outside the department stores. I would think Doug Bulna would be a shoe-in for that job. It could be the start of an amazing new career and a path to a much better life for him.
I have an alcoholic acquaintance that works for the Salvation Army. He has traveled all over the world helping others. He left his slothful past life behind and claims that the Salvation Army is the best thing that ever happened to him. I don't think he goes to places that have cable television; thus Douglas Bulna's tendencies to television remote kleptomania should not be a problem.
DainBramaged, if you are reading this, seriously consider getting in with the Salvation Army now as they are hiring. You could have a career of travel to exotic places helping others in need. It could be a fabulous life for you! I'd consider it if I didn't have a business to run and a family to tend.
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That cheap bastage probably tries to steal and hide the 3D glasses at a movie theater.
Then demands a 50% discount to boot.
That may be a reasonable demand for Doug to make.
Given that glass eye, no matter how he adjusts the 3D glasses, the movie will be 2D, and a blurry 2D at that.
We saw "Gravity" in 3D the other day. The special effects and the 3D rendition of space were remarkable, but the tickets, for a 2D matinee showing, would have been about a third the price we paid.
Doug should demand more than a 50% discount if he bought a 3D ticket.
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That may be a reasonable demand for Doug to make.
Given that glass eye, no matter how he adjusts the 3D glasses, the movie will be 2D, and a blurry 2D at that.
We saw "Gravity" in 3D the other day. The special effects and the 3D rendition of space were remarkable, but the tickets, for a 2D matinee showing, would have been about a third the price we paid.
Doug should demand more than a 50% discount if he bought a 3D ticket.
While somewhat true, you must remember that he has to buy another ticket to go see the other half of the movie. :whistling:
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If I go to Google and type in the name Doug Bulna, it also gives me "Doug Bhulna fired", which is the same thing. Don't know why Bulna is spelled differently.
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While somewhat true, you must remember that he has to buy another ticket to go see the other half of the movie. :whistling:
:rofl:
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If I go to Google and type in the name Doug Bulna, it also gives me "Doug Bhulna fired", which is the same thing. Don't know why Bulna is spelled differently.
That's most likely Doug misspelling his own last name. He probably misplaced his reading glasses.
(http://i1146.photobucket.com/albums/o528/dummieland/glass_zpsbae0323c.jpg)
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Well, here it is, Day 61 from when the brain-damaged primitive could've killed this thread, by going on to Skins's island and explaining things to his fellow primitives, and apologizing to them for being such a jerk.
I fear this thread is going to run for another 25 days yet, when nominations for the top DUmmies of 2013 begin, necessitating letting this one go. But it already accomplished its objective, that of giving a prospective employer of walrus-face looking on google, some important background information about himself that the brain-damaged primitive might forget to describe.
This would've never happened, if walrus-face had taken franksolich's advice and counsel.
Sigh.
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That's most likely Doug misspelling his own last name. He probably misplaced his reading glasses.
(http://i1146.photobucket.com/albums/o528/dummieland/glass_zpsbae0323c.jpg)
Cool. Probably can get them half price.
:cheersmate:
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You know, folks, there's an important lesson about the primitives that might be overlooked here.
For being the smartest people on the internet, the primitives don't know shit about "damage control."
That's all the primitives, not just the brain-damaged primitive.
Something bad happens, either by chance or plan, and the primitives sit around helplessly, doing nothing.
And so things just snowball until they're the size of Mars or something.
Once walrus-face ascertained ooops, he'd made a malicious mistake, he should've taken immediate measures to contain the damage.
Number one, he should've talked with his boss before Labor Day, even if on a Saturday or Sunday, explaining he'd gotten high or drunk or something, and said some really stupid things he now regretted. He should've gone to see his boss right away, even if meant driving halfway across New Jersey to his boss' house.
That would've stopped any damage right there and then.
A few nervous moments, crisis over.
But walrus-face didn't do that. Instead, he waited until some days later, after Labor Day, when his boss and coworkers had already learned about his big big big mistake. He had to face some music, and it probably wasn't a good tune. He was either let go, or "persuaded" to quit.
Well, losing one's job's pretty big damage, but the damage could've stopped right then and there.
If the brain-damaged primitive, as advised and counseled by franksolich, had then gone to Skins's island and explained things to his fellow primitives, in addition apologizing to them for being such a jerk.
But no, he never did that, and as franksolich had reminded him, his silence would make this thread, and Tucker's thread, mushroom until they occupied the top spot on google, which a prospective employer would be likely to check.
Had walrus-face done that, the two threads here would've disappeared into the archives, and fallen clear back to page 6,379 or something of a google search on his name. A prospective employer wouldn't want to check back that far, so he'd be safe, knowing that his great mistake wasn't public knowledge.
And he'd have a new job by now.
But no, when he ****ed up, he just sat down and let the chips fall right on his head.
Bah, humbug. What's the point of advising and counseling primitives?
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Sinister is their middle name.
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I was still reeling from the realization that primitives have no concept, no idea, of “damage control,†when the business partner showed up and we decided to go to the big city for supper last evening.
It still blows my mind, that when something bad happens to a primitive, rather than trying to minimize its impact, the primitive just sits there doing nothing and lets it all fall apart.
And then feels sorry for himself.
The primitives seem to have no more of an idea of “damage control†than ancient man had of germs, or medieval men had of the atom.
- - - - - - - - - -
As mentioned earlier, the brain-damaged primitive had two opportunities to contain, control, the damage he’d done--the first being immediately talking with his boss before his boss found out about all the nasty slanderous things he’s said about her and his fellow employees, apologizing for it, and promising to be a better person thereafter.
That would’ve saved his job.
But walrus-face didn’t do that.
Having lost his job, the brain-damaged primitive needed to get a new one, and one of the best ways to get a new job is by having an unsullied reputation (deserved or not). And in this brave new age of the internet, and prospective employers doing intense background checks, one has to be very discreet about what one says on message-boards, especially extremist fringe ones such as Skins’s island.
So walrus-face had to be sure that his stupid comments got shoved to back pages wherever they appeared.
franksolich offered him a suggestion about how to do that, so that this whole sordid episode would be over with, and forgotten, in short order. All he had to do was show up on Skins’s island, explain and apologize to his fellow primitives, after which all would be put behind us, and quickly forgotten.
The brain-damaged primitive didn’t do that, though, and so his internet presence and his reputation for bad-mouthing people remains on the fore in any google search about his name, significantly hindering any chances of his getting another job.
The primitives have no more of an idea of “damage control†than prehistoric men had of photocopying machines.
- - - - - - - - - -
The business partner said I’m bothered by this--and he’s right--because “damage control†is second nature to me; I’m always in “damage control†mode, and I think I’ve done rather well at it.
Being expert in “damage control†is important to me because I’m a deaf person trying to masquerade as a hearing person. (Never mind why, and I’m too old to change.) Because much of my communication and interaction with others is based upon frantic, wild guesses (on my part) about what’s being said or talked about, I make mistakes.
<<<can churn out mistakes in wholesale lots in just minutes.
I make more mistakes than I get things right.
And too, being human like everybody else, sometimes I do or say things out of malice and spite, which turns out a…..mistake.
However, I seem to do okay in life, because once I’m aware I’ve made, or am making, a mistake, I waste no time, spare no effort, in going into “damage control†mode.
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Damage control.
One has to be oh so careful with that one. It is best to admit you dropped the ball and beg for Mercy from the Court.
Things can get out of hand when damage control goes out of whack. Say remember Nixon ?
I have noticed ads for that auto dealership here on CC and would think they received a fortune in free advertising. Who ever heard of this dealership before a worker was burned lighting his own farts.
Clinton had damage control from his wife that worked very well, I wanted to smack Hillery in the nose every time she showed up as a forgiving wife next to him in public.
Obama, now there is a damage control specialist. Who has time to think about what he is up to when you have lost your job and health insurance ?
On the other hand, seems every week or so someone is using damage control to hire a hit man or woman to take away a problem. Most get caught but quite a few are out there feeling it was money well spent.
For most of us our damage control is a paid up home or renters insurance policy, a smoke alarm, a couple fire extinguishers, some life insurance, and a $25.00 government savings bond every week, much less then a carton of cigarettes.
Damage control is to take precautions before the SHTF not after.
Paranoia is good, it is damage control, far thinking, time to change the tire pressure on the car or truck, clean out the gutters and check the roof.
Good damage control is to prevent as much damage as possible before it happens, one thing that my Mom insisted on was I was to check out all exits from anyplace I went to
as she remembered the Coconut Grove fire in the 30's that killed so many people.
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Damage control.
One has to be oh so careful with that one. It is best to admit you dropped the ball and beg for mercy from the court.
Yes, vesta dear, that's usually the best thing one can do, and I'm sure that most decent and civilized people do that as their first reaction to "uh oh, I goofed."
But here, we're looking at primitives who apparently know as much about "damage control" as they know about the medieval languages and dialects of Burma.
Things can get out of hand when damage control goes out of whack. Say remember Nixon?
There's "damage control," and there's pseudo-"damage control," which is no damage control at all, the latter being a prominent characteristic of the White House during the Watergate crisis.
For me, the most telling indication of pseudo-damage control during Watergate was when one of the White House staffers mentioned John Dean, with whom Richard Nixon wasn't familiar, other than his title as lawyer. The staffer started describing Dean to Nixon, but then Nixon interrupted, "I don't want to know anything about the guy; don't tell me about him."
Far better had Nixon demanded to know everything about everybody on his staff.
Nixon was no dummy, and this surely has to rate as the stupidest thing he ever said, "I don't want to know."
I have noticed ads for that auto dealership here on CC and would think they received a fortune in free advertising. Who ever heard of this dealership before a worker was burned lighting his own farts.
Much to my relief, I've noticed that this thread, and Tucker's excellent other one, have not reflected upon the automotive dealership itself, insofar as google "searches." Which is the way it should be.
Damage control is to take precautions before things hit the fan, not after.
Very true; and the best precaution walrus-face could've taken--and the same goes for other primitives such as the big guy in Bellevue, Pamela, Dennis the Menace, the locust primitive, walldude himself, the bitter old Vermontese cali primitive, poor stupid Beth, &c., &c., &c.--would've been to not have such negative attitudes about people and things, and to not hang around Skins's island at all.
But in the mere act of living, being, existing, you know, vesta dear, excresence happens.
I'm thinking of s-o-o-o-o-o-o-o many cases in my own life where, because I'm deaf, some woman's said "let's hop around in the sack".....which I interpreted to mean "I have a headache," or she's said "I have a headache".....which I've interpreted as "let's hop around in the sack."
So while it's nice to prevent bad things from happening, it's not always possible. So best to possess a quickly reactive and audacious mind to ameliorate, to lessen, to minimize, bad things after they've happened.
<<<speaks from a lifetime of experience.
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Speaking of damage control, and NHSparky can confirm this, the US Navy has a rate all to itself of Damage Control. Maybe with Coach's knack for damage control he might have been a great Damage Controlman in the USN.
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Speaking of damage control, and NHSparky can confirm this, the US Navy has a rate all to itself of Damage Control. Maybe with Coach's knack for damage control he might have been a great Damage Controlman in the USN.
Seriously, if I wasn't so good at damage control--I consider it by far the greatest skill I have, all the others being rather mediocre--I wouldn't have lasted three months as moderator here.
Not because of damage wrought by members, but because of my own big mouth.
You, sir, have no idea how many times I've shotten off my mouth, getting things wrong; I've gotten things wrong much more often than I've ever gotten them right. Trust me, I have--and that most never even notice, I consider testimony to my great skills in this area.
As the business partner said after we'd been associated with each other for a about a year (and so this was maybe six, seven, years ago), one has to look really close to see how much I stumble. But because of my quick and audacious use of damage-control, I give the casual observer the impression of having the grace and deftness of a ballerina.
Forgive me for boasting, but really, I don't have any other skill excepting that of damage control.
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Well, another day in the life of the brain-damaged primitive has passed, and he remains invisible.
One wonders if, given his highly-volatile temperament and brain-numbing hate, perhaps his adult daughter had him committed.
It's all very sad, but he's got only himself to blame.
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Still no sign of walrus face.
I'm becoming concerned for his well-being.
Like bloody hell I am. :-)
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Once walrus-face ascertained ooops, he'd made a malicious mistake, he should've taken immediate measures to contain the damage.
Number one, he should've talked with his boss before Labor Day, even if on a Saturday or Sunday, explaining he'd gotten high or drunk or something, and said some really stupid things he now regretted. He should've gone to see his boss right away, even if meant driving halfway across New Jersey to his boss' house.
That would've stopped any damage right there and then.
A few nervous moments, crisis over.
You are right or he could have just simply made up the entire story and received all the back slapping and kisses from the lovies in the DUmster, which was all he really wanted in the first place. Then he could have had a follow-up tale on how the company decided to keep MSNBC or whatever because it is such a good new outlet. Who would have ever known the truth? But I guess they are called DUmmies for a reason.
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You are right or he could have just simply made up the entire story and received all the back slapping and kisses from the lovies in the DUmster, which was all he really wanted in the first place. Then he could have had a follow-up tale on how the company decided to keep MSNBC or whatever because it is such a good new outlet. Who would have ever known the truth? But I guess they are called DUmmies for a reason.
You are missing something. We here at CC and TOS made calls and posted Facebook messages to Gearhart informing them of what happened. Even if he didn't do it, the obvious question by the Dealership is "why did you say this online? Do you lie to them or us?"
He stepped in it.
Has anyone stopped by the Dealership to see if the walrus one is even there?
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You are missing something.
Good point.
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Well, yet another day's march nearer the mausoleum, and the brain-damaged primitive remains out of sight.
There's s-o-o-o-o-o-o many things that could've happened; take your pick:
(a) walrus-face got into some hot water at work because of his hate-filled, intemperate words, but through artful begging-and-pleading, he saved his job, the condition being that he had to desist from hanging around the primitives on Skins's island.....which possibly means sooner or later, the brain-damaged primitive's going to re-surface on another hate-filled extremist message board; or
(b) walrus-face was fired from his job, or at the least "encouraged" to quit, and is looking for another job.....but as long as it's something higher than a municipal litter-picker-up or a Wal-Mart greeter, he'll probably be checked out on the internet, meaning.....; or
(c) walrus-face was fired from his job, and is frantically setting up one of those dubious "work at home" computer-based businesses, and conspiring how to cheat the Internal Revenue Service.....but as he's tried that before and didn't get away with it, the IRS is probably watching him like a hawk; or
(d) walrus-face was fired from his job, and as he's pretty much immediately eligible for early retirement under social security, has applied for that; even though it means a lower monthly check and no free medical care, it's at least something; or
(e) walrus-face was fired from his job, and since he seems a pretty reasonable candidate for the social security disability gravy-train, has applied for that; it's a better pay-off for him than early retirement, but on the other hand it takes considerably more time to get it, and he perhaps doesn't have time; or
(f) walrus-face has been doing any or all of the above, and in addition to that, getting food stamps and other freebies generously donated by the overburdened taxpayers of New Jersey; or
(g) walrus-face has tried something rational people don't try, and has been committed to a big building with small rooms and soft walls; or
(h) walrus-face is no longer in this time or place; or
(i) walrus-face is headed for the Sandhills of Nebraska, hoping to find franksolich and get his advice and counsel, much like hippies of yore used to trek to a mountain in the Himalayas to consult with a guru or maharishi or "spiritual" guide.
I dunno what he's doing, but the odds are pretty good it's one or more of these things.
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What does DainBramaged thinks he is? Some teenager stuck in a 60 year old man. :mental:
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Some teenager stuck in a 60 year old man.
Whoa! You're getting the Bellevue big guy all excited.
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Has anyone had a Doug Bulna sighting yet?
I'm not up to wandering into the cess-pit.
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Has anyone had a Doug Bulna sighting yet?
I'm not up to wandering into the cess-pit.
I was just there (circa 7:00 p.m. central time) and didn't see walrus-face.
The primitives forgot who he was, or is, the day after Labor Day, but as we hadn't, the brain-damaged primitive's probably waiting until Thanksgiving Eve, when this thread gets retired.
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I was just there (circa 7:00 p.m. central time) and didn't see walrus-face.
The primitives forgot who he was, or is, the day after Labor Day, but as we hadn't, the brain-damaged primitive's probably waiting until Thanksgiving Eve, when this thread gets retired.
Maybe he reincarnated as a sock puppet.
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Maybe he reincarnated as a sock puppet.
But he'd be easier than strawberries-and-cream, to detect.
It's been tried before, and the disguised primitive's always been found out.
I think the brain-damaged primitive is just being the lily-livered coward he was apparently born, and hiding.
The guy's got no balls at all.
Geezuz. When I think of it, I myself and from watching other people, have done bigger and stupider things than this.....and came through okay. I, and they, came through because we owned up to our mistakes and--of course--vigorously applied "damage control."
Walrus-face doesn't have anything over franksolich, when it comes to shooting off the mouth, and facing unexpected unpleasant consequences.
Yet I come up smelling like a rose, while walrus-face, because he's such a coward, comes up smelling like rotten fish.
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In case the brain-damaged primitive hopes this thread is dying because nothing was posted yesterday (Wednesday)--the first time that's happened--well, sorry to dash his hopes. I've got a whale of a cold, but that's neither here nor there.
While some hunters were parking their motor vehicles here early yesterday morning when it was still dark, and having some coffee and stuff before they took off, we were idly chitchatting about people who've made big mistakes in life, but had it all turn out okay because they were man enough to admit to those mistakes.
One of them mentioned Swede, the cook of Norwegian derivation whose specialty is Italianate cuisine.
Now, before going any further, I have to mention that because I'm deaf, I'm not privy to most gossip, even about people whom I've known for years (in the case of Swede, twelve years). I know very little about other people, because all I know about them is what I see, nothing more than that.
Swede is a paragon of integrity, honesty, and morality.
Swede came from a very poor, dirt-farmer, hard-scrabble background, and joined the army right out of high school, spending several years in Italy during the Vietnam era. I dunno why he wasn't in Vietnam, and why he was in Italy when most on that side of the world were in Germany, but there you have it, there it is.
Swede married a woman who sometime thereafter bought the bar in town, while Swede himself was a long-distance truck driver. Swede's tall and angular; she's short and matronly. They had some kids, but I've never met them; not that they never visit, but simply that they haven't been around when I've been around.
One of the hunters, whose father was a boyhood friend of Swede's, mentioned that Swede when in the army really ****ed up, big time. Apparently more than enough to get court-martialed and kicked out of the army; some sort of really really big mistake that usually ruins other people's lives.
I guess at the age of twenty, Swede was no paragon of integrity, honesty, and morality.
The hunter told me what it was, but as there were too many people here, I didn't catch that part; only that it was something very very bad; something so stupid that even with millions in the army, the odds of anyone doing such a thing are nil, negligible.
However, cognizant of "damage control," Swede immediately took measures to ameliorate the impact of what he'd done; he admitted to his mistake before anybody else knew it'd been made, he donned sackcloth and ashes, and was humbly penitent.
So he didn't **** up his life after all.
Walrus-face might insist, "Well, who's Swede? He's just an older guy who cooks in a bar, and does some truck-driving when he gets tired of his wife. At least I was a sysadmin; he's a loser."
Uh, no.
Swede can buy Atman, the sparkling old dude, and CalPig with his pocket-change; he's not in the same league as the Kennedys or the Rockefellers, but he's ensconced in a rather rarified strata of the well-off, secure, and comfortable, whose main interest these days is to keep his money away from the greedy grasping kleptomaniac hands of Democrats, liberals, and primitives, so that his kids and grandchildren can have it when he's gone.
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Well, another day, another dollar.
That is, another dollar for those of us with jobs; one can reasonably assume the brain-damaged primitive didn't get a dollar.
The guy's an ass.
Here, the primitives over on Skins's island are waiting breathlessly for him to explain what happened, and to apologize to them for having been such a jerk, but walrus-face is ignoring them, keeping mum.
Remember, these are his fellow primitives, and he owes them some respect.
But n-o-o-o-o-o, the brain-damaged primitive doesn't care about his friends.
It should be no wonder he doesn't have any.
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Doug Bulna has been busy since he was fired:
(http://i1299.photobucket.com/albums/ag72/conscave/walrus-speak-in_zps4a0298f2.jpg)
Substitute host on NPR
(http://i1299.photobucket.com/albums/ag72/conscave/walrus-panel-discussion_zps7788cf46.jpg)
Guest judge on New Jersey's Got Talent
(http://i1299.photobucket.com/albums/ag72/conscave/walrussax_zps4eb88f01.jpg)
Playing at bar mitzvahs
(http://i1299.photobucket.com/albums/ag72/conscave/walrus-fishy_zpsfc616cc6.jpg)
Playing a $5 slot machine in Tucson
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Awesome, just awesome!
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I found Doug Bulna's scrapbook online. While most of the pictures are unpostable here, I'll post the few that are.
First baby photo:
(http://www.predatornutrition.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/male-sperm.jpg)
Hope:
(http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2012/081/8/4/soviet_walrus_by_bloodtrailkiller-d4tm6se.png)
Favorite Breakfast Food:
(http://alphabetfiend.files.wordpress.com/2010/07/cherry.jpg)
Sign posted in Rockaway, NJ:
(http://www.lolbrary.com/lolpics/914/beware-jumping-gay-walrus-3914.jpg)
Many more to come until the thread is locked… He has a Walrus-sized scrapbook!
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Well, another day gone, another day which both the brain-damaged primitive and franksolich will never get back.
But given the statistical odds, probably franksolich has more days still left, than walrus-face, since he's older and more decrepit.
I just noticed one of Big Dog's signature lines, a quote from John Dryden, "Beware the fury of a patient man."
<<<notorious for being patient.
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As of Saturday morning, November 9, 2013:
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/db1109-1_zpsc110bbec.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/db1109-1_zpsc110bbec.jpg.html)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/db1109-2_zps902dabec.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/db1109-2_zps902dabec.jpg.html)
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As of Saturday morning, November 9, 2013:
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/autumn/db1109-2_zps902dabec.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/autumn/db1109-2_zps902dabec.jpg.html)
:rofl: :bwah: :rofl: :rofl:
I see Douglas Bulna (http://www.trademarkia.com/services/logo.ashx?sid=78325173&size=130) aka Doug Bulna (http://www.trademarkia.com/services/logo.ashx?sid=78325173&size=130) / Douglas C. Bulna (http://www.trademarkia.com/services/logo.ashx?sid=78325173&size=130) / Douglas Bulna (http://www.trademarkia.com/services/logo.ashx?sid=78325173&size=130) lately of Gearhart Chevrolet fame has a new pic in his top images. Nothing yet for DainBramaged (http://www.trademarkia.com/services/logo.ashx?sid=78325173&size=130) / Douglas C. Bulna (http://www.trademarkia.com/services/logo.ashx?sid=78325173&size=130) / Douglas Bulna (http://www.trademarkia.com/services/logo.ashx?sid=78325173&size=130) though.
In case any of you didn't notice, here's the pic that has made an appearance:
(http://www.trademarkia.com/services/logo.ashx?sid=78325173&size=130)
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Continuation of Doug Bulna's Scrapbook.
First Job (and where he may have to return):
(http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6s-6axNBK08/UlyGZE1y2cI/AAAAAAABZ9Y/v0LHoYoNMJI/s1600/Wally_Walrus_4.jpg)
First Crush:
(http://www.themeparkreview.com/forum/files/img_3913__800x600_.jpg)
Mother's packed bag to go to maternity ward before birth:
(http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7002/6543640341_0d0072cc56_o.jpg)
Warmup Before Swim Class with Miss Rogers:
(http://mamamia-cdn.s3.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/walrus-380x278.jpg)
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:rofl: :bwah: :rofl: :rofl:
(http://www.trademarkia.com/services/logo.ashx?sid=78325173&size=130)
Nice. H5 for your efforts. :lmao:
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Thankee! LOL
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Well, yet another day passes into extinction, never to be seen again by mortal man.
One wonders what the brain-damaged primitive did today, seeing as how he didn't show up on Skins's island, at least visibly.
Me, I finished winterizing the windows of the house (this house is about 60% windows on all four sides, so as to afford a panoramic view of the Sandhills), and then went out to supper at the bar in town, with the femme. The property caretaker and his wife were there, and as is the custom around here, sat down to dine with us.
The femme, the property caretaker, and his wife got sauced. I don't drink, and so didn't get engaged in the chitchattery, but there was enough action going on in the bar to interest me, and so I watched it as if a show on television, with the sound turned off.
One of the uses of lip-reading is that it doesn't matter if a place is noisy (which I can't hear anyway); if one concentrates (one doesn't always concentrate, though, because it gets fatiguing), one can figure out what's being said between two people w-a-a-a-a-a-y over on the other side of the dining room.
When the femme and the property caretaker went over to talk with some people at another table, the property caretaker's wife put her hand on the inside of my left thigh, after which I pulled away; being a gentleman, I didn't want her doing anything she'd regret when she got sober.
When I got back here, I went to Skins's island, hoping to see a campfire lit by cousin nadin, but she must've been hopping around in the sack with her submarine husband as, like walrus-face, she didn't seem to be around.
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I went to Skins's island, hoping to see a campfire lit by cousin nadin, but she must've been hopping around in the sack with her submarine husband
:o :asssmack: :asssmack: :asssmack:
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:o :asssmack: :asssmack: :asssmack:
Maybe it was just me, but I had the sense there was a lot of sex going on last night, given that so many people and so many primitives were absent, both in real life and on the internet. Maybe even the sparkling old dude got it up for his much-younger trophy wife; I dunno.
There wasn't any going on here, because everybody I was around was drunk, but that was the sense I got.
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Maybe it was just me, but I had the sense there was a lot of sex going on last night, given that so many people and so many primitives were absent, both in real life and on the internet. Maybe even the sparkling old dude got it up for his much-younger trophy wife; I dunno.
There wasn't any going on here, because everybody I was around was drunk, but that was the sense I got.
Doug Bulna was getting a little strange in one of Camden's infamous gay grottos.
(http://mikalandsariaotd.files.wordpress.com/2011/07/image017.jpg)
If a walrus tonguing a man's asshole doesn't qualify as "strange", then I don't know what does.
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Doug Bulna was getting a little strange in one of Camden's infamous gay grottos.
If a walrus tonguing a man's asshole doesn't qualify as "strange", then I don't know what does.
I dunno; given the brain-damaged primitive's current decreptitude and unemployment, he's probably getting his kicks out reading Car and Driver and Road and Track at his neighborhood convenience store, smudging the ink and pages with his sweaty greasy fingers, making them unsaleable.
But what everybody else was up to last night mystifies me. Because I can't hear, I'm not privy to idle chitcat and casual conversation, during which times people talk about what they've been up to, or plan to do.
But for whatever reason, I had this impression that last night, Saturday night, was a good night for romps in the sack, and had the image, in my head, of the cbayer primitive and her eccentric English husband rocking their boat off the western coast of Mexico. But given his age and her erosion from drinking, maybe it was just the ocean, and not them, rocking the boat.
I also thought about the magisterial primitive being chained and whipped by his wife, and of the truemud primitive dressed in diapers and a baby-bonnet, and sucking on a plastic rattle to amuse his wife. I'm sure there's other primitives with strong sadistic-masochistic tendencies, but those two are the most obvious.
What was hard to imagine was cousin nadin rolling around in the hay with her husband; it's difficult to imagine how one couples with an oblate spheroid (for those who don't know, that's the opposite of an hourglass shape). I stretched my imagination to the limit, and had to give up.
The Taverner primitive was probably limp and impotent; drugs do that to a male.
Big Bertha and her "wife" were probablly just cuddling. Ew.
Dear old sweet Lu and bewhiskered Bill, he with the mien of a Pennsylvania Dutch farmer, given their ages, probably gave it a try, gave up, and went to sleep early.
Skippy from New York City, who's from San Francisco, was in Chicago late this past week, and only God knows what he was up to there; I don't suppose we want to know because he was in the company of the flaccid dropsical tattooed hypochondrial primitive, mopinko--no doubt she's going to blame her newest disease on him, whatever it is.
Amber was probably doing tricks, half a dozen per hour, and one wonders if she made enough money to get a new lap-top computer to replace the one that was probably stolen.
The locust primitive was probably out being cruel to dogs, while Dennis the Menace was shopping at his neighborhood adult book store looking for something suitable for his homoerotic tastes.
The big guy in Bellevue was probably snoring on the reclining-chair in front of the television, while poor dear Marta was forced to endure his flatulence, fantasizing how nice it'd be, to have the flat-stomached, small-hipped, lean but no overly muscular, franksolich for a spouse instead.
And so on the speculations about what the primitives were doing, went; I'll bet I'm not too far off, if off at all.
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Mother's packed bag to go to maternity ward before birth:
(http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7002/6543640341_0d0072cc56_o.jpg)
:rofl:
You are evil.
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When the femme and the property caretaker went over to talk with some people at another table, the property caretaker's wife put her hand on the inside of my left thigh, after which I pulled away; being a gentleman, I didn't want her doing anything she'd regret when she got sober.
DUmmy stevenumbers is breathless, and incredulous.
Most of his dreams revolve around a woman doing something she will regret when sober.
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DUmmy stevenumbers is breathless, and incredulous.
Most of his dreams revolve around a woman doing something she will regret when sober.
Thank you!
I like to think it's because of my good breeding; I came from good parents after all, no "bad dad" or "mean mom" stories to tell, like the primitives do.
But it's more probably just because when I drank, I oftentimes got into situations that were not, uh, honorable.
It's been ages since I've drank--March 1987--and I was young when I quit, a few years out of college, but from when I was 17 years old until then, circa ten years later, I drank boatloads and usually found myself the next morning in the most, uh, peculiar sorts of situations. Ten years is quite enough time to drink oneself into an ass.
<<<considerate person; doesn't like bad things to happen to other people.
Excepting, of course, to primitives.
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Well, crap, another day's gone by, and no brain-damaged primitive.
This thread's got only sixteen more days to run, after which it'll be retired in time for the beginning of the contest for the Top DUmmies of 2013; it's reasonable to assume it'll be the top link that comes up on google whenever a prospective employer wishes to check into walrus-face, and the brain-damaged primitive had forgotten to mention this about his background.
It all could've been avoided more than sixty days ago, if walrus-face had exercised some damage-control; it wouldn't even be an issue any more. And the brain-damaged primitive could've been merrily and light-heartedly back to posting videos of "kittehs" and "woggies."
He was in the driver's seat in all of this; where the car went, was his own making.
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Have to admit Frank that I had no idea a first quarter moon would influence us as a full moon will, but I also wondered about some very interesting dreams I had in the last few nights, you know the kind that piss you off if something wakes you up and you never get to find out how they end.
I wonder if there are statics on the birth month for the largest number born in one or two months.
Seems by counting 3 months forward one gets the month they were conceived. Lots of Oct. and Nov. baby's, Holiday baby's started under the Xmas tree or New Years Eve.
Strange thing to think about, what were my parents up to in March of that year.
My youngest lines up exactly to the month we bought our first water bed and naturally with a new toy we had to play on it a lot.
So I am a thinking that seasons give change to the sexual conduct of humans as do holidays, have to remember in the animal world deer and moose get randy at this time and become dangerous also. Not a good time to go walking in the woods unless armed, some of our Moose will hump cars or chase cows. Bucks get all out of sorts, heard about one on a game farm that damn near killed the protector.
As far as the female that touched your leg, many reasons for that, all innocent, could it be you, that as an old Buck yourself read more into the incident then there was ?
Or did you read the action correctly? Never know, a cold winter is a coming and a warm body at night to cuddle up to puts a bounce in your step the next morning.
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Unlike Vesta I use Bounce in my laundry. I use the Spanish version with Jalapeno. I just put my clothes on and I bounce everywhere in the morning. Mrs Mannn used it to wash our sheets with once. We thought it would be fun, but she just got a rash.
So I don't recommend Bounce to help you in the morning. some people just cant take it. neither of us can handle refried beans, but we love Mexican food. Unfortunately I'm allergic to Beano. So the wife always stays at a hotel, while I take care of the kids that night. She says they can just suffer like the little brats that they are.
I sure hope Doug will get honest. Honesty is always good for a man. Well that and a shave. Unemployed people rarely shave often enough. Now I've had some pretty close shaves in my time. One was when my wife asked if her pants made her look fat, and I said, "No your fat makes you look fat." I nearly died.
This goes to show there is a time for everything. I needed to lie. But lying to your wife is not nearly as bad as lying to your work. Well. Wait. OK, it can be a lot worse. Like the time I used Nair to remove my wife's eyebrows. I did it for fun, but she suspected me right away. I nearly died.
OK, so lying to your wife is worse that lying to work. Work will just fire you. Your wife will try to kill you.
Maybe Doug should make amends and ask forgiveness at DU for being such a pig. Flowers no longer work with my wife, She just demands I buy a bigger Life insurance policy, I don't know why that calms her down.
Sometimes just being helpful can get you in trouble. My wife was really, sincerely preggers with our 11th child and she was a bit irritable. We were invited to a wedding, and she didn't want to go all blimped out. I suggested we make something for the wedding. But we were poor, she said. We wouldn't afford any material. I knew something all bright orange and yellow, "We got that old tent..." I nearly died.
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Oh now vesta, dear, get your mind out of the gutter and contemplate only upon higher things.
For the record, using your system of calculation, I was conceived in the Black Hills of South Dakota, where the family was vacationing for a whole month one summer, so there's hardly any margin of error on this.
It was about the time they were closing down a no-longer-needed famous tuberclosis hospital.
I saw the empty building with its black windows about the time I was four or five years old; it looked very much like the palace of the Dalai Lama in Lhasa, Tibet, and was even on the edge of a high cliff. I think this was at Hot Springs, but I'm not 100% sure; to me, it looked as if the biggest building possible in the whole world.
And as far as the woman who touched my leg, she was drunk, and it was s-o-o-o-o-o obvious her intentions, a blind man could've seen them.
<<<has no intentions, ever, of messing with the wife of the guy who fixes things around here. No way.
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<<<Is very familiar with Hot Springs Arkansas.
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<<<Is very familiar with Hot Springs Arkansas.
Do you know the Queen of Switzerland? :rofl:
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Do you know the Queen of Switzerland? :rofl:
Only by title.
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Unlike Vesta I use Bounce in my laundry. I use the Spanish version with Jalapeno. I just put my clothes on and I bounce everywhere in the morning. Mrs Mannn used it to wash our sheets with once. We thought it would be fun, but she just got a rash.
So I don't recommend Bounce to help you in the morning. some people just cant take it. neither of us can handle refried beans, but we love Mexican food. Unfortunately I'm allergic to Beano. So the wife always stays at a hotel, while I take care of the kids that night. She says they can just suffer like the little brats that they are.
I sure hope Doug will get honest. Honesty is always good for a man. Well that and a shave. Unemployed people rarely shave often enough. Now I've had some pretty close shaves in my time. One was when my wife asked if her pants made her look fat, and I said, "No your fat makes you look fat." I nearly died.
This goes to show there is a time for everything. I needed to lie. But lying to your wife is not nearly as bad as lying to your work. Well. Wait. OK, it can be a lot worse. Like the time I used Nair to remove my wife's eyebrows. I did it for fun, but she suspected me right away. I nearly died.
OK, so lying to your wife is worse that lying to work. Work will just fire you. Your wife will try to kill you.
Maybe Doug should make amends and ask forgiveness at DU for being such a pig. Flowers no longer work with my wife, She just demands I buy a bigger Life insurance policy, I don't know why that calms her down.
Sometimes just being helpful can get you in trouble. My wife was really, sincerely preggers with our 11th child and she was a bit irritable. We were invited to a wedding, and she didn't want to go all blimped out. I suggested we make something for the wedding. But we were poor, she said. We wouldn't afford any material. I knew something all bright orange and yellow, "We got that old tent..." I nearly died.
:clap: :clap: :clap:
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Well, well.
My, my.
No brain-damaged primitive seen on Skins's island during the night.
About three pages ago, I outlined all the different possibilities, of what walrus-face might be up to.
I forgot to list one, though.
Maybe the brain-damaged primitive's plotting some mischief.
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Maybe the brain-damaged primitive's plotting some mischief.
One can only hope.
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Maybe the brain-damaged primitive's plotting some mischief.
Oh NO! My remote...gasp...it's GONE!
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some employees from the dealership snuck over to his squalid apartment and hid his remote. He's spent all this time looking for it.
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One can only hope.
Well, as you know, sir, Skins's island leaks like a sieve.
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Oh my.
:panic:
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Is it a coincidence that both Doug and Amber have disappeared?
Does anyone have proof that they aren't together?
You know Doug has long, flowing, albeit greasy hair, similar to that of the aborigine chieftain Amber described and lusted after.
Could he be masquerading as a one-eyed noble savage down in Arizona, stealing Amber's heart and enjoying her favors?
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Is it a coincidence that both Doug and Amber have disappeared?
Does anyone have proof that they aren't together?
You know Doug has long, flowing, albeit greasy hair, similar to that of the aborigine chieftain Amber described and lusted after.
Could he be masquerading as a one-eyed noble savage down in Arizona, stealing Amber's heart and enjoying her favors?
I suspect walrus-face is up to something else; he thinks he's being cute, but actually he's being silly.
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I suspect walrus-face is up to something else; he thinks he's being cute, but actually he's being silly.
Would it involve a mouse circus down in Florida?
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Well, this is what one gets when one does something stoopid and runs off to a public Internet message board to brag about it, for all the world to see. ::) :whatever:
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Well, this is what one gets when one does something stoopid and runs off to a public Internet message board to brag about it, for all the world to see. ::) :whatever:
My thoughts on this whole sordid episode are these: if the brain-damaged primitive ever in his schooling got a grade higher than a D-, it was grade inflation.
If he was ever paid more than sixty cents an hour in any job he ever had, he was overpaid, and had some unusually magnanimous employers.
I am still reeling in incredulity, that he imagines himself anywhere within miles of normal or average intelligence, much less brighter than the run of humanity.
Purposely and deliberately clapping on a set of horse-blinders so he doesn't have to listen to things he doesn't want to hear, exacerbated the problem, making him even stupider. We after all learn by being exposed to new people, new experiences.....new opinions.
Remember, that was my own original bitch about him--that he put primitives he should listen to, on "ignore;" he didn't want to hear a word they said simply because they disagreed with him.
It blows my mind, that someone could possibly be so stupid.
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(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/iiu_zps39fdbb12.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/iiu_zps39fdbb12.jpg.html)
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600+ replies, close to 50 pages !
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Bump just to keep Doug Bulna in our thoughts.
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I just noticed this. Gearhart Chevrolet in in Denville, New Jersey. That is the same place OPERATIONMINDCRIME was from. Is it possible that OMC, Dainbamaged and Doug are all the same person?
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I just noticed this. Gearhart Chevrolet in in Denville, New Jersey. That is the same place OPERATIONMINDCRIME was from. Is it possible that OMC, Dainbamaged and Doug are all the same person?
Probably not.
Although OMC did allege to meet walrus-face and buy a motor vehicle from his employer.
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And Operation mindcrime was at least half an evolutionary step beyond the average primitive.
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OMC had a functioning, complete brain.
Doug by his own account had half his scooped out and discarded, splat, into a medical waste bin.
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OMC had a functioning, complete brain.
Doug by his own account had half his scooped out and discarded, splat, into a medical waste bin.
I wonder if they scooped out and threw away the right half?
You hear about people getting the wrong foot amputated, or the wrong lung removed occasionally.
There is no reason the walrus would be immune to this type of mistake.
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<<< Trying to figure out how to scoop out half a pea.
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<<< Trying to figure out how to scoop out half a pea.
Well, this technique requires peas but was designed to work on polar bears, although it may be effective with walruses
To catch a polar bear start by cutting a hole in the sea ice sheet
Line the hole in the ice with green peas
When the polar bear bends over to take a pea
KICK HIM IN THE ICEHOLE !
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Bump just to keep Doug Bulna in our thoughts.
Okay, folks, this is the last ten days for this thread, and Tucker's most excellent other thread, so get your advice and counsel for the brain-damaged primitive said-and-posted while there's still time.
On Thanksgiving Eve, about supper-time, concurrently with the opening of nominations for the top DUmmies of 2013, both threads will be locked to further comments, as we all pay attention to things more important than walrus-face.
For those who might mourn the demise of the threads (they'll still be available for viewing, but inevitably will recede further and further into the back pages of the DUmpster), hey, these two threads already made history, and it's going to be a very long time before anything else surpasses them.
Tucker's thread is by far the "most viewed" and "most commented upon" thread in the whole DUmpster--the largest repository on the internet, of primitivia--and this, GOBUCKS' thread, is the third "most viewed" and the second "most commented upon."
It'll be a long time before any other threads accumulate such massive numbers.
To be honest, I've been surprised. I always thought the attempts by the friends of the big guy to get him elected to the city council in Bellevue (Nebraska) the spring of 2012, was a much bigger story than the saga of sourassed walrus-face, but even the addled grasswire's bitchery about it wasn't pocket-change, compared with this Event.
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Well, this technique requires peas but was designed to work on polar bears, although it may be effective with walruses
To catch a polar bear start by cutting a hole in the sea ice sheet
Line the hole in the ice with green peas
When the polar bear bends over to take a pea
KICK HIM IN THE ICEHOLE !
:doh: :asssmack:
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"Views" (next-to-the-last column, from the right):
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/views_zps2277c6f1.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/views_zps2277c6f1.jpg.html)
"Comments" (third-from-the-last column, from the right):
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/comments_zps4b179937.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/comments_zps4b179937.jpg.html)
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Thanks.
I'm gonna click on it several times a day until it's #2.
It's worthy.
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Thanks.
I'm gonna click on it several times a day until it's #2.
It's worthy.
I don't think one has to artificially goad it along.
I'm sure it'll naturally reach number two in a few days.
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I don't think one has to artificially goad it along.
I'm sure it'll naturally reach number two in a few days.
Tucker is just curious to see when it happens.
I'm just curious to see if Gearhart has found the remote yet.
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I'm just curious to see if Gearhart has found the remote yet.
Well, one thing I do know for certain, for a fact, is that the men's restroom at the brain-damaged primiitve's former place of employment is again usable before noon every day.
<<<always felt for the mechanics and salesmen there who, even if their bladders were bursting, had to hold it in until some hours after walrus-face had used the restroom, lest they get aphixiated by toxic fumes.
I've known jerks like the brain-damaged primitive all my life, but after I became a teenager and went out to the World of Work, I got to know a whole lot more of them.
There's a certain sort of person who has two dominant characteristics of assholery; first, he holds off any personal business until he gets to work, and is on the clock. Second, he purposely wishes to make life as inconvenient as possible, for other people.
<<<learned early on, how to take a piss without inhaling.
Walrus-face, upon reaching work every day and punching in his time-card, always immediately headed to the men's room, a magazine in hand. He could've done this at home, but at home, he wasn't on paid time.
I dunno how much time he spent sitting in there; maybe about twenty minutes or so.
Which was more than enough time to stink up the men's room pretty badly, making it unusable by others for three, four, hours.
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Well, another day in life that none of us will ever see again, and still no brain-damaged primitive.
During these, the last ten days of this thread, I'm going to be thinking about what walrus-face could've done, if he had any sense of "damage control," which he obviously doesn't, so as to save his job and continue hanging around the other primitives on Skins's island.
DainBramaged (39,020 posts) Tue Sep 3, 2013 9:00 PM
Hey guys, that was a close call, but I--whew!--survived.
After making some inflammatory comments here I realized I'd shot off my mouth too much, and spent a sleepless night, twisting and turning in bed, wondering what I should do.
When I got up yesterday morning, I hopped into the car and drove to the boss' house. It was a holiday and all that, but she's always said that in case of dire emergency with any of her employees, we're free to contact her at any time, anywhere.
She's a wonderful boss, always willing to listen.
But well, to lessen her wrath, on my way there, I picked up four dozen long-stemmed roses and six four-pound boxes of Knipschildt chocolates, and got a haircut and had my mustache shaved off.
She didn't recognize me at first--she told me I smelled "too nice" to be who I said I was--and wanted to turn me away, but the flowers and chocolates and my neat appearance persuaded her to let me say my piece.
I told her all I'd done, that it was stupid of me, that my rage and hate makes me not see things clearly.
She was upset; she hadn't known about it yet, and at first said I was fired.
I turned on the lachrymal glands, pointing out that I'm old and alone and ugly, and only three years away from retirement. Nobody's going to hire me, I said, and I'll starve.
She called her husband to the door, and I had to repeat everything to him.
He too got indignant, but reminding his wife that they're Republicans, always willing to give the down-and-out a leg up rather than keeping them prostrate on the ground, while he wasn't happy about it, he thought she should give me a second chance, with conditions.
It was a close call, but I survived.
DainBramaged (39,021 posts) Tue Sep 3, 2013 9:10 PM
Hey guys, and there's something else.
I've always been out sorts here, pissy and grouchy and dismissive the feelings and opinions of others.
In short, I've always been a jerk.
I want to apologize to you all, and have deleted my whole entire "ignore list;" in fact, I pledge to respond to any and every opinion that disagrees with mine, with reason and respect and servility towards minds bigger than mine.
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Well, another day in life that none of us will ever see again, and still no brain-damaged primitive.
During these, the last ten days of this thread, I'm going to be thinking about what walrus-face could've done, if he had any sense of "damage control," which he obviously doesn't, so as to save his job and continue hanging around the other primitives on Skins's island.
You had me going -- that is a fantasy thread, right?
Hmm... we might have a whole new genre here. You may be inventing Internet Theory here.
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You had me going -- that is a fantasy thread, right?
Hmm... we might have a whole new genre here. You may be inventing Internet Theory here.
Well, if he would've done that, the brain-damaged primitive would right this minute be hanging around on Skins's island, posting pictures of woggies and kittehs, and his refrigerator stuffed full of chow for an upcoming Thanksgiving feast.
But he didn't do this, and so as a consequence, he's too ashamed to show up on Skins's island, and his cupboards are full of canned corn and canned peas from the neighborhood food pantry.
It's very strange, what happens to primitives who don't take franksolich's advice and counsel; it just never ends well for them.
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As you know, coach, I'm the least qualified to comment on the failure of Doug Bulna, and his alter ego, the neckbeard.
Both appear to be driven to a life of failure. Perhaps I should be grief stricken. I am not.
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As you know, coach, I'm the least qualified to comment on the failure of Doug Bulna, and his alter ego, the neckbeard.
Both appear to be driven to a life of failure. Perhaps I should be grief stricken. I am not.
**** em.
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Well yes, it's a proven psychological fact that, really, one person cannot possibly care for another person any more than that another person cares about himself. Consciously or subconsciously, or both, the primitives think of themselves as worthless piles of excresence, which makes it impossible for the rest of us to care about them any more than we care about bird droppings or buffalo chips.
Walrus-face considers himself lower than the bottom of a slithering snake, and since that's the "price" at which he values himself, well, we can't possibly value him any higher than that, ourselves.
However, remember that this thread is written for two audiences here--the occasional decent and civilized person who's still interested in the subject (and admittedly, not many are any more), and the lurking primitives who still rush over to this thread in droves. The brain-damaged primitive himself's here twice a day, checking out this thread.
Well, since the bulk of the audience is now the primitives, and since this thread's winding down, now in its final nine days, I've been taking the opportunity to advise and counsel the primitives. We all know what happened to primitives who paid no heed to the advice and counsel of franksolich, the most famous of course being the red round one; if he'd heeded me eight years ago, he'd still be romping and frolicking on Skins's island.
Bad things happen to primitives who don't follow franksolich's advice and counsel.
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This current case of the brain-damaged primitive is eerily reminiscent of another primitive who paid no attention to my advice and counsel, Chief S itting Bull, the bird-smacking stoned red-faced primitive.
You might remember Redstone had a really bad "anger management" problem; he liked to hit people and things.
You might not remember that Redstone was also afflicted with some sort of horrible degenerative neuro-muscular atrophy.
For years--and it's all right here, in the archives of the DUmpster--I constantly reminded him that he had a rough road ahead for him, and that his rage and hate was going to cripple him, not help him, in dealing with this most dreadful thing. He had to become laid-back, mellow, indulgent, tolerant; it wasn't going to stop the affliction, but it'd gear him mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, to deal with it.
Redstone came over here every single day; I know he read franksolich.
Walrus-face currently is in no better situation than Chief S itting Bull had been, what with half his eyesight and half his brain having been removed. The brain-damaged primitive's in really bad shape, and he's not making things easier on himself with all that rage and anger and hate that consumes him.
The brain-damaged primitive's got to learn to sit back, relax, and love.
If he doesn't pay attention to this advice and counsel, well, there's that eerie parallel with Chief S itting Bull.
You might, or might not, remember that Redstone, who took none of my advice, died two years ago.
By his own hand.
Bad things happen to primitives who don't follow franksolich's advice and counsel.
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The round red sodomite ignored a lot of good advice as well.
At least he died by someone else's hand, not his own.
He had already chalked up more than enough mortal sin without adding suicide.
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**** em.
I'm with you, Tucker . . . :cheersmate:
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The brain-damaged primitive himself's here twice a day, checking out this thread.
Does he really?
You might remember Redstone had a really bad "anger management" problem; he liked to hit people and things.
I remember him talking alot of shit, waving his e-wang around on the internet, and ultimately getting his head used as a bar rag on election night.
I also remember he was a world class liar.
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1. Does he really?
2. I remember him talking alot of shit, waving his e-wang around on the internet, and ultimately getting his head used as a bar rag on election night.
I also remember he was a world class liar.
1. One would hope so, best thing for him. Lots of good advice here.
2. Other than that, a sterling chap.
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Does he really?
Yeah, there's a lot of ISPs from urban northern New Jersey that have viewed this thread, and Tucker's larger one.
I have no idea which one would be the brain-damaged's account--I'm not nearly that sophisticated in analyzing such as this--but a good tip-off is usually when an ISP from a certain location comes to a thread, and sits on it for the longest time.
Atman's famous for doing that; whenever he's mentioned, he doesn't just come over to read, and then go away; if the thread's "live," he'll stay right on it, sometimes for hours. He probably does computer or internet stuff on other windows, but he keeps one window open to the thread of interest, and occasionally "refreshes" it (in between doing other things on his computer) to see if new comments have been added.
There's two ISPs in particular that hang around this thread (and Tucker's), both from urban northern New Jersey, and one of them has to be walrus-face. The second of the two is perhaps an employee of the brain-damaged primitive's former employer; conservativecave got two members from there right after this story broke.
Neither's ever posted anything, probably because they since learned they didn't have to be logged on to read this, and also perhaps their employer doesn't want them commenting about it, which is cool. After all, the DUmpster's here as a public service, to illuminate and inform, not to garner comments.
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Another wander around the DUmp. No Doug.
I wish he'd hurry up and apologize for his silly indiscretion.
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He must be waiting for the day after Thanksgiving, when cc's two threads about him come to an end.
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By the way, during a meeting with the physician yesterday (Monday) to discuss my cardiac decreptitude, the M.D., who knows I'm interested in such things, pointed out that one of the more-notorious of the recent work-place shooters was known to be afflicted with haemorrhoids.
He couldn't remember which one it was, only that the killer had a massive case of them.
One should keep in mind the brain-damaged primitive doesn't eat nearly as much fiber and roughage as he needs to.
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It's too late to be of any help to walrus-face, given that he ignored all of franksolich's advice and counsel, ending up in the mess he's in, but for the illumination of other primitives lurking here, I might point out the sorry sad sordid case of the big guy from Bellevue, Omaha Steve.
The big guy first ran for the Bellevue City Council in the primaries of May 2012, in a campaign he waged mostly on Skins's island from the preceding August until his humiliating defeat nine months later.
As the old "Omaha Steve" threads in the archives of the DUmpster show, I was there from the beginning, constantly offering my fellow Nebraskan advice and counsel; after all, I'm not entirely ignorant of such things.
Some here were bothered, because the advice was good, and if he took it, the big guy stood a chance of winning, and we didn't want that. They couldn't understand why franksolich was "helping" the other side.
I was doing it because (a) I already sensed the big stupid oaf wasn't going to take advice and counsel from me anyway, no matter that it was the right advice and (b) the big guy's friends down over in Bellevue, professional Democrats, were giving him the same advice I was giving him.
(However, it never occurred to me hair-faced would also ignore wise counsel and advice from his fellow Democrats. But Big Steve thinks he's brighter and wiser and smarter than even his own fellow Democrats.)
Okay, so during those nine months, from step one to step two to step three to step four &c., &c., &c., I constantly advised the big guy about this thing or that thing, warning him that if he didn't do as I suggested, something bad would happen.
Well, he paid no attention, no attention at all.
And consequently, all sorts of bad things happened during his muck-up of a campaign, culminating of course in his humiliating defeat. It's just really odd, all these bad things that happen to primitives who ignore the advice and counsel of franksolich.
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The big guy first ran for the Bellevue City Council in the primaries of May 2012, in a campaign he waged mostly on Skins's island from the preceding August until his humiliating defeat nine months later.
It seems that Steve Dawes has been misleading us. From this AM, which dropped like a rock:
http://www.democraticunderground.com/10024056743
Tue Nov 19, 2013, 04:57 AM
Star Member Omaha Steve (37,322 posts)
A family full of Kennedy connections (Omaha Steve once ran against the machine)
The first time Omaha had elections by district (early 80's) instead of city wide, Omaha Steve came in tenth out of 18 against Mary Kay Green while in his 20's and not raising a dime
{Letter from local paper}
http://www.omaha.com/article/20131119/NEWS08/131118704/1681#the-public-pulse-nov-19
Thank you to World-Herald staff writer Henry Cordes for his wonderful tribute to John F. Kennedy. My late father, James F. Green, was state co-chairman for President Kennedy and a working co-chairman for President Kennedy and his brother Robert when he ran for president.
In a World-Herald photo, my mother, father and a group of Omahans are featured entering the airplane that took them to John F. Kennedy's inauguration. We still have the official pictures of my parents entering the White House that wonderful day.
Even before the Bernard Boyle picnic for candidate John F. Kennedy, my cousin Edward Furay and I got to meet Sen. Kennedy and Ted Sorensen. It was at that meeting that my dad outlined for the senator the campaign for the Nebraska primary. My dad was a delegate to the Democratic Convention in Los Angeles that nominated Kennedy for president.
The president was much loved by my family and a majority of Americans.
Mary Kay Green, Lee's Summit, Mo.
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He must be waiting for the day after Thanksgiving, when cc's two threads about him come to an end.
Well, with this latest eruption on Skins's island, I finally figured out what the brain-damaged primitive's up to.
The ejection of Fat Che's little brother from Skins's island is of course the most-captivating item of interest in the DUmpster at the moment.
And we've been having a lot of that, the past couple of weeks or so, some Great Discombobulation on Skins's island that distracts from the plight of walrus-face. Almost one every single day.
I wonder if it's on purpose, and the brain-damaged primitive's behind it, hoping we'll forget all about him.
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(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/skins11-19_zpsb3886311.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/skins11-19_zpsb3886311.jpg.html)
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I don't know how good of an idea that is. I used to routinely go to businesses and use their network during business hours. Even at a car dealership, one could be waiting to get their car back from the service department, and be using the company's network.
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For the record, I guess the brain-damaged primitive does not live near the recently-banned Fat Che's little brother. Fat Che's little brother lives way down south, in Vineland, while walrus-face lives up in urban northern New Jersey.
My sincerest apologies for having perpetuated this error for so long.
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I don't know how good of an idea that is. I used to routinely go to businesses and use their network during business hours. Even at a car dealership, one could be waiting to get their car back from the service department, and be using the company's network.
But I'm sure it could be refined, Elad allowing only non-employees at an ISP to log onto Skins's island.
Something's go to be done about the primitives themselves; we have this sorry case of walrus-face, who on company time constantly bashed his employer, and now's out of a job because of it.
And there was Anne and Pamela, both of them posting from their classes when they were supposed to be teaching. And all these primitives with ".gov" as their ISP.
The most egregious case was that of the now-gone-away buzzy one, the "BuzzClik" primitive.
He had an 8-5 Monday-Friday sort of job, and oddly, he posted only 8-5 Monday-Friday, never in the evening or on weekends. It was almost as if he thinks, "well, my free time's too valuable to post on Skins's island."
But the heart of the issue is, I'm concerned for the primitives; I don't enjoy the primitives getting into trouble. The primitives are like little retarded kids; they need controlled for their own good, so they won't get into trouble.
<<<has a heart of gold.
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He must be waiting for the day after Thanksgiving, when cc's two threads about him come to an end.
The two monster threads will apparently be locked at that time, but I'm not aware of any prohibition against supplementary threads that could be initiated at any time.
Friends of Doug, touting him for DOTY votes, are likely to do that. I'm not in that group. I think Doug's notoriety, his blazing ascent into DUmp and innertube superstardom, was based entirely on a single thread.
One thread, upon which he made maybe a half-dozen posts, is his body of work. His previous vulgar presence at the DUmp, and his revolting "goggy" posts, had almost nothing to do with his fame.
He reminds me of no one more than Kim Kardashian, whose fame and the fortune of her entire family is based on a single explicit pornographic video of her with a black rapper that was "accidentally" leaked onto the internet. The sum total of her talent, her full repertoire, is on display in that short video. It's her entire body of work.
Doug's post about hiding the TV remote is his version of Kim Kardashian's porn tape, and dozens of DUmmies have done more.
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The two monster threads will apparently be locked at that time, but I'm not aware of any prohibition against supplementary threads that could be initiated at any time.
You're right, sir; there's no rule against any new brain-damaged primitive threads if he does something stupid again, and it's worth notice of the DUmpster. Anyone should feel free to continue posting his campfires, if he lights any again, or news of how walrus-face is doing.
The two current threads have been deliberately kept active, so as to ensure that in case the brain-damaged primitive "forgets" to tell a prospective employer his whole background, well, the complete information's available by google.
That objective appears complete now, and congratulations to Tucker and GOBUCKS for having initiated the two most-popular threads, ever, in the DUmpster. The third, fourth, fifth, &., &c., &c. most-popular don't even come close.
Mission accomplished, and so one week from today, when nominations for the Top DUmmies of 2013 open up, these two giant threads can gently and quietly recede, and if there's anything new, a new thread of course is eminently appropriate, and solicited.
Friends of Doug, touting him for DOTY votes, are likely to do that. I'm not in that group. I think Doug's notoriety, his blazing ascent into DUmp and innertube superstardom, was based entirely on a single thread.
One thread, upon which he made maybe a half-dozen posts, is his body of work. His previous vulgar presence at the DUmp, and his revolting "goggy" posts, had almost nothing to do with his fame......
Doug's post about hiding the TV remote is his version of Kim Kardashian's porn tape, and dozens of DUmmies have done more.
Yes, of course the brain-damaged primitive produced much of little or no value, this being his most spectacular event, ever, on Skins's island; a one-time phenomenon.
But oh God, what a brilliant, bombastic, colorful display of pyrotechnics.
The Top DUmmies are, ideally, chosen using one of two different criteria, one no more important than the other.
You've referred to primitives with constant, steady output of amusement during the course of the year; that's one standard. I suppose the cousin's a good example; she was pretty much productive all year long, churning out lots and lots of good stuff.
But there's another standard one can use; a primitive who does one singularly spectacular act.
This one single sole solitary thing walrus-face did, was surely the most spectacular event on Skins's island during the past year. Damn, it was hilarious. This one thing totally eclipses the fact that otherwise, he didn't do a damned thing all year long worthy of note.
If the Taverner primitive had, for example, in 2012 gone nuts and gunned down a shopping-mall, that one act would've overshadowed anything and everything else, and he would've been an easy Top DUmmie #01 last year.
It's up to the voters to decide each on their own, which of the two criteria to use for determining the Top DUmmies; steady output versus one spectacular act.
(For the record, neither the cousin nor the brain-damaged primitive have my vote for number #01 this year; I'm sure it's going to be a surprise, and no, it won't be Skippy from New York City or the cooking and baking primitives (as a group) either. All four are "somewhere" in my top five and top ten, but I have a different primitive in mind, for the top spot.)
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(For the record, neither the cousin nor the brain-damaged primitive have my vote for number #01 this year; I'm sure it's going to be a surprise, and no, it won't be Skippy from New York City or the cooking and baking primitives (as a group) either. All four are "somewhere" in my top five and top ten, but I have a different primitive in mind, for the top spot.)
Oh man, what lack of sleep does to one.....
We're using weighted voting this year, in which one ranks one's top five primitives in order.
And then one will just list another five primitives, in no order, voting for a total of ten.
In the above, I was just referring to my top five primitives, not top ten.
How it's to be done will of course be explained in the "official campaign thread," which opens up the day after Pearl Harbor Day.
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Ballot:
first choice, which is assigned 5 votes
second choice, which is assigned 4 votes
third choice, which is assigned 3 votes
fourth choice, which is assigned 2 votes
fifth choice, which is assigned 1 vote
sixth choice, which is assigned one-half vote
seventh choice, which is assigned one-half vote
eighth choice, which is assigned one-half vote
ninth choice, which is assigned one-half vote
tenth choice, which is assigned one-half vote
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I might have been more forgiving if Doug Bulna hadn't kept me on his iggy list for years and years.
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I might have been more forgiving if Doug Bulna hadn't kept me on his iggy list for years and years.
Despite that there's plenty of reasons to loathe the brain-damaged primitive, that's always been my own main bitch about him.
"Liberal" means "tolerant of other viewpoints."
Also, the jerk's got two ears and only one mouth, which suggests the priority nature intends us to use things we're given.
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Not a peep from ol' bucket mouth Doug. Nothing.
Checked six forums/groups. Not a thing. :(
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Not a peep from ol' bucket mouth Doug. Nothing.
Checked six forums/groups. Not a thing. :(
One wonders, since he's unemployed, if he might've had to give up his home internet service, to save money.
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Not a peep from ol' bucket mouth Doug. Nothing.
Checked six forums/groups. Not a thing. :(
Probably out there looking for bobbolink and her Buick so he can have a place to stay.
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One wonders, since he's unemployed, if he might've had to give up his home internet service, to save money.
What ? Doug's too proud to beg on Wishadoo ?
-
Wondering where Doug Bulna, and his former employer are ranking right now.
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Wondering where Doug Bulna, and his former employer are ranking right now.
https://www.google.com/search?q=Doug+Bulna&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&aq=t&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a
and pics:
https://www.google.com/search?q=Doug+Bulna&client=firefox-a&hs=Oq4&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=NxeQUpLmMMS72AXpn4DoBg&ved=0CD8QsAQ&biw=1053&bih=546
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Wondering where Doug Bulna, and his former employer are ranking right now.
Well, on google, he's back to the top link on both versions of his name (he'd slipped down to second on one of them).
Here, Tucker's thread remains by far number one in both "views" and "comments," but that's a record that's probably going to stand for at least a few years.
GOBUCKS' thread, this one, is still number two on "comments" and climbing; it's number three on "views," about 850 shy of taking over second place. As I figured, it'll be in second place by the middle of next week.
History was made here; it'll be a long time before we see its like again.
-
https://www.google.com/search?q=Doug+Bulna&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&aq=t&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a
and pics:
https://www.google.com/search?q=Doug+Bulna&client=firefox-a&hs=Oq4&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=NxeQUpLmMMS72AXpn4DoBg&ved=0CD8QsAQ&biw=1053&bih=546
Cool, Doug Bulna has a wrap on that.
Just a second, I'll go check "Bing".
-
Bing" has the lad at second place.
After that, everything. :lmao:
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Nothing but the top of the heap for Doug Bulna.
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Nothing but the top of the heap for Doug Bulna.
He's king of the hill, on the William Rivers Pitt. :rotf:
-
^Heh heh.
-
Another spin around the DUmp. No Doug Bulna.
No sign of gNads, either. What's up with that? :???:
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Another spin around the DUmp. No Doug Bulna.
No sign of gNads, either. What's up with that? :???:
Hmmm . . . They're twin sons of different mothers?
(http://www.danfogelberg.com/albums/twinsonssm.jpg)
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No sign of gNads, either. What's up with that?
nadin has been in the shithole south of Texas for the past week.
Probably buried in a huge drift of hailstones.
-
Another spin around the DUmp. No Doug Bulna.
No sign of gNads, either. What's up with that? :???:
Nads posted yesterday - inconsequential stuff, but she's not entirely AWOL. http://www.democraticunderground.com/?com=view_post&forum=1002&pid=4078390
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Well, this is now less than 700 "views" away from second place, in the "most viewed" category.
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One small post for me, One rather tiny increase for Dougie's reputation...
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One small post for me, One rather tiny increase for Dougie's reputation...
It's been a joy and a pleasure, helping the brain-damaged primitive.
Sometimes during job interviews, one forgets to point something out, and this way, a prospective employer can't possibly miss finding omitted information.
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It's been a joy and a pleasure, helping the brain-damaged primitive.
Sometimes during job interviews, one forgets to point something out, and this way, a prospective employer can't possibly miss finding omitted information.
Consider it a PSA.
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Consider it a PSA.
And who says conservatives aren't generous?
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Nads posted yesterday - inconsequential stuff, but she's not entirely AWOL. http://www.democraticunderground.com/?com=view_post&forum=1002&pid=4078390
Has she ever posted consequential stuff? :-)
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Has she ever posted consequential stuff? :-)
Would 'crunchy' be a synonym?
-
JohnnyReb lost his remote over in the other thread.
Has anyone seen it here?
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JohnnyReb lost his remote over in the other thread.
Has anyone seen it here?
fat Che's little bro may be in posession of it.
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fat Che's little bro may be in posession of it.
After what he's done with it, he can keep it.
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Would 'crunchy' be a synonym?
No. In nadinspeak, "crunchy" is the opposite of consequential.
Crunchy things are satisfying to chew, but filled with air and lacking in substance.
When she coined "crunchy", it was as a threat to limit her comments at the DUmp to silly, inconsequential subjects.
-
Loconuts can't find the remote, either.
http://www.conservativecave.com/index.php/topic,92725.30.html
At least Stewart had the motivation to start his lame OReilly Sucks website.
Locust O's can't even summon the ambition to get up and get the remote.
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No. In nadinspeak, "crunchy" is the opposite of consequential.
Crunchy things are satisfying to chew, but filled with air and lacking in substance.
When she coined "crunchy", it was as a threat to limit her comments at the DUmp to silly, inconsequential subjects.
We need a nadin dictionary of terms.
-
The DUmp finally acknowledges the walrus.
http://www.democraticunderground.com/10024099493
Response to Ichingcarpenter (Original post)
Wed Nov 27, 2013, 03:12 AM
TheMastersNemesis (3,626 posts)
4. They Couldn't Fire Me I Am Retired With No Need To Work.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Response to TheMastersNemesis (Reply #4)
Wed Nov 27, 2013, 03:16 AM
Ichingcarpenter (29,279 posts)
5. They didn't claim it was you it was Dain Bramaged
I wonder how the itchingcarpetbagger knows that? :naughty:
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5. They didn't claim it was you it was Dain Bramaged
I wonder how the itchingcarpetbagger knows that?
From the OP in the thread. The OP read the comments on Matt's blog, where someone made sure that the remote incident was included. Complete with a copy of "YOU'RE FIRED!!" book by Bulna himself.
-
This thread may actually come into the #2 most viewed place on Thanksgiving. How befitting!
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This thread may actually come into the #2 most viewed place on Thanksgiving. How befitting!
Well, I was close to calling it, but I was off only a day. It'll surpass.
"Comments" aren't as important, because it's already by far number two in comments.
-
I'd found those numbers someplace. I need to look them up again.
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I'd found those numbers someplace. I need to look them up again.
First page of the DUmpster, click the "views" column twice, and there it is.
(Clicking once gives it all in ascending order.)
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First page of the DUmpster, click the "views" column twice, and there it is.
(Clicking once gives it all in ascending order.)
Ahh, that's right. Forgot.
-
I had so much fun, I had to re-read a few of the favorites. :lmao:
-
I had so much fun, I had to re-read a few of the favorites. :lmao:
grasswire's thread all indignant about the friends of the big guy helping him's hilarious.
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grasswire's thread all indignant about the friends of the big guy helping him's hilarious.
I think you're stalking me. That's exactly where I went. :lmao: :rotf: :cheersmate:
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I think you're stalking me. That's exactly where I went. :lmao: :rotf: :cheersmate:
Oh, but you can do it too, sir.
Any member can find out what others here are reading, not just moderators.
We not Skins's island; we're open and honest here.
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Oh, but you can do it too, sir.
Any member can find out what others here are reading, not just moderators.
We not Skins's island; we're open and honest here.
Never looked into that. I guess I don't have a need to.
Everyone always ends up viewing/commenting in The DUmpster, so easy to find.
-
From the OP in the thread. The OP read the comments on Matt's blog, where someone made sure that the remote incident was included. Complete with a copy of "YOU'RE FIRED!!" book by Bulna himself.
Foreword by Donald Trump.
-
Foreword by Donald Trump.
I took a short nap this afternoon.
It's pretty quiet and cold out here on the eastern slope of the Sandhills.
I dreamed I was having Thanksgiving dinner with Clare Boothe Luce, Lady Diana Furness, the Duchess of Cambridge, and Dame Edith Sitwell, at a homeless shelter; we were just slumming, none of us lived there.
The brain-damaged primitive came in, hat in hand and a humble demeanor on his face.
Everybody suddenly got up to sing "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow."
-
I took a short nap this afternoon.
It's pretty quiet and cold out here on the eastern slope of the Sandhills.
I dreamed I was having Thanksgiving dinner with Clare Boothe Luce, Lady Diana Furness, the Duchess of Cambridge, and Dame Edith Sitwell, at a homeless shelter; we were just slumming, none of us lived there.
The brain-damaged primitive came in, hat in hand and a humble demeanor on his face.
Everybody suddenly got up to sing "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow."
I hope you were a gracious host, and tossed him a mollusk.
-
I thought I'd try and spot the walrus.
I hit the normal places. No luck.
Then I thought...Oh my goodness, perhaps he's seeking aid and comfort.
Off to the coping with divorce and separation" forum... nothing.
Tried the "computer help and support" area... nothing.
Last ditch effort...the "gender & orientation" forum, specifically the "sexual assault survivors support" area. (figuring he raped his self, he needs it)... not a peep.
Where's walrus??2?
-
I thought I'd try and spot the walrus.
I hit the normal places. No luck.
Then I thought...Oh my goodness, perhaps he's seeking aid and comfort.
Off to the coping with divorce and separation" forum... nothing.
Tried the "computer help and support" area... nothing.
Last ditch effort...the "gender & orientation" forum, specifically the "sexual assault survivors support" area. (figuring he raped his self, he needs it)... not a peep.
Where's walrus??2?
He's harder to fing than Waldo !
-
Perhaps he's in the wymyn's forum.
Didn't think to check there.
-
This thread is now less than 80 "views" from being the second-most viewed thread in the DUmpster.
I was off by only two days.
And by the way, even though there's still one more day left in the month, November 2013 is now the busiest month ever, in the history of conservativecave. Thank you all for making it so!
-
Well poop.
Shuffled around the wymyns forum. No walrus.
OK, how about the feminazi group? Nope
One last try in the pitchers/catchers and carpet-muncher forum. Nothing to be seen, except a few others we recognize.
This is frustrating.
Doug Bulna, come back....I have your bucket! :tongue:
-
Look a squirrel.
(http://i1164.photobucket.com/albums/q572/aeropix/IMG_7552Ps.jpg?t=1385745179)
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I'm trying to understand how that stupid thread about Carlos the Miami photog got 24,000 views.
It was boring as hell, and almost no one commented, yet tens of thousands of views.
Gotta believe it has something to do with bots, not people.
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I'm trying to understand how that stupid thread about Carlos the Miami photog got 24,000 views.
It was boring as hell, and almost no one commented, yet tens of thousands of views.
Gotta believe it has something to do with bots, not people.
Everybody loves a walrus. Not so much a Doug.
The pilfering penniped should have taken Franksolich's advice.
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The pilfering penniped should have taken Franksolich's advice.
If he had, this thread would've withered away and been dead by September 6, about 690 comments ago.
You're right. He should've listened.
-
Look a squirrel.
(http://i1164.photobucket.com/albums/q572/aeropix/IMG_7552Ps.jpg?t=1385745179)
Closely related to the cuddly bunny rabbit.
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Closely related to the cuddly bunny rabbit.
She hunts artic chickens, too.
Walrus is her favorite prey. Piglet has no barriers.
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The after shot, when Piglet is done feasting.
(http://travel.nationalgeographic.com/u/TvyamNb-BivtNwcoxtkc5xGBuGkIMh_nj4UJHQKuoXVIRM1tuNRQzg-HMseHrObgoQSB_j6ZlNEQZA/)
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If I remember, walrus season ends at midnight.
The hunters have grown weary.
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Doug really does have a kindred spirit. At halftime of the Alabama-Auburn game, they mentioned Harvey Updyke and I immediately thought of Doug.
In Auburn, AL, there were two big live oak trees that for decades were decorated by fans with toilet paper after an Auburn win.
Alabama fan Harvey, whose intelligence is on a par with Doug's, decided late one night to pour tree poison around the roots of these two landmark trees.
It takes the poison a year or two to take effect, but Harvey couldn't wait. He called a radio talk show and bragged about his one-man campaign against an Auburn tradition, and found himself thoroughly, totally wallduded.
Of course the CalPig would say, "That was an excellent idea, my dear Harvey!"
Harvey was finally sentenced to three years in jail so Doug should feel better about the consequences of his stupid trick.
On the other hand, after leaving jail Harvey will probably have job offers from Alabama fans, while no one wants any part of Doug.
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Wow... almost 72 hours without a post. But no worries, the Doug Bulna Resurfacing Watch continues...
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If I remember, walrus season ends at midnight.
The hunters have grown weary.
...and the nights are 6 months long.
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Great work, people! Thanks for your contributions!
This is now the second-biggest thread, ever, in the DUmpter, behind only Tucker's original thread about the fiascos of walrus-face.
views (next-to-the-last-column)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/db12-05a_zps0fed6461.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/db12-05a_zps0fed6461.jpg.html)
comments (third-from-the-last-column)
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/db12-05b_zpsc858f9f2.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/db12-05b_zpsc858f9f2.jpg.html)
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Well, in this holiday season my thoughts keep drifting back to Doug and his hardships.
When a man like Doug loses a job, the loss of salary and benefits is only part of the difficulties that arise.
Sure, the lack of a steady income may make grocery trips more of a challenge, but the non-working democrats we all see every day are even more overweight than Doug, so starvation isn't likely.
I'm thinking about the less-obvious hardships Doug will face.
He no longer has a ready source of free lightbulbs.
He no longer brings home free toilet paper.
If he has to do a handyman job around Chez Bulna, he won't get free hand tools.
Car trouble? No more free auto parts.
Printer paper, ball point pens, staples, hand cleaner, paper towels, all gone.
Hell, Doug hasn't bought an AA battery in fifteen years.
I hope that gave our lurking New Jersey DUmmies some stocking stuffer ideas.
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Well, in this holiday season my thoughts keep drifting back to Doug and his hardships.....
:rotf:
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I put up a prayer card for him at our church...
:-)
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I might invite him over to the house for Christmas dinner, but not mine.
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At this point, I actually feel bad for Doug. I hope he has a Merry Christmas, and that he makes a positive, fresh start in the new year.
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At this point, I actually feel bad for Doug. I hope he has a Merry Christmas, and that he makes a positive, fresh start in the new year.
Oh, don't go Pollyanna on us, sir.
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I hope Doug starts having trouble with his eye.
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Oh, don't go Pollyanna on us, sir.
The guy has been thoroughly chastised, do we really need to continue?
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At this point, I actually feel bad for Doug. I hope he has a Merry Christmas, and that he makes a positive, fresh start in the new year.
*****.
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At this point, I actually feel bad for Doug. I hope he has a Merry Christmas, and that he makes a positive, fresh start in the new year.
Yeah? I hope he ends up having to live with some ****wit deviant like pretzel boy.
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*****.
**** off
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The guy has been thoroughly chastised, do we really need to continue?
wait... is this a rhetorical question?
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It's so refreshing to see genuine sympathy for Doug, wishing him a Merry Christmas and all.
He isn't likely to have one, though.
And what about the people on his Christmas shopping list?
They're accustomed to getting new Delco batteries, and new Snap-On socket wrenches, and sets of new Goodyear tires, and cases of multi-grade motor oil, all nicely gift wrapped.
This year he's giving kittens.
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It's so refreshing to see genuine sympathy for Doug, wishing him a Merry Christmas and all.
He isn't likely to have one, though.
And what about the people on his Christmas shopping list?
They're accustomed to getting new Delco batteries, and new Snap-On socket wrenches, and sets of new Goodyear tires, and cases of multi-grade motor oil, all nicely gift wrapped.
This year he's giving kittens.
Good one!
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It's so refreshing to see genuine sympathy for Doug, wishing him a Merry Christmas and all.
He isn't likely to have one, though.
And what about the people on his Christmas shopping list?
They're accustomed to getting new Delco batteries, and new Snap-On socket wrenches, and sets of new Goodyear tires, and cases of multi-grade motor oil, all nicely gift wrapped.
This year he's giving kittens.
I think Doug would have kept all the good stuff for himself.
If he gave a Delco battery, it was an old one that was returned for the core charge. If he gave any tools away, they were more than likely ones the mechanics had already broken- Doug could simply rifle through the broken tool box until he found something somewhat presentable. Any motor oil was more than likely already used. Doug probably just drained it back into empty new motor oil jugs, after he strained the used oil through one of his old dirty socks.
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^Dirty sock filter...nice touch.
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Merry Christmas.
Please have a kitteh.
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Merry Christmas.
Please have a kitteh.
Your order is in...
(http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRdBT-j44i6-JY6pDV5ScfUH27UuFrkGXTb2ObNSZrLGSMxyObo)
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Maybe both Doug threads can stay alive until the big awards are announced.
Now that Doug has finished addressing and mailing all his Christmas cards, and has all the gifts carefully wrapped and arrayed under his beautifully-decorated Christmas tree, I'm sure he has begun his annual holiday baking frenzy.
This year, that kitchen extravaganza is combined with breathless excitement, as he awaits word from coach on the outcome of the election.
He may have already jotted down a few notes on appropriate remarks he might offer in accepting his award.
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Maybe both Doug threads can stay alive until the big awards are announced.
Now that Doug has finished addressing and mailing all his Christmas cards, and has all the gifts carefully wrapped and arrayed under his beautifully-decorated Christmas tree, I'm sure he has begun his annual holiday baking frenzy.
This year, that kitchen extravaganza is combined with breathless excitement, as he awaits word from coach on the outcome of the election.
He may have already jotted down a few notes on appropriate remarks he might offer in accepting his award.
Hear, hear. :clap:
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Comments (third column from right):
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/walrus/db-c_zpsc59d3390.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/walrus/db-c_zpsc59d3390.jpg.html)
Views (second column from right):
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/walrus/db-v_zpse507ba66.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/walrus/db-v_zpse507ba66.jpg.html)
Statistics (for conservativecave as a whole):
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/walrus/db-s_zps9f428178.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/walrus/db-s_zps9f428178.jpg.html)
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Bump.
This is the thread one's supposed to post on, not the other one.
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Bump.
This is the thread one's supposed to post on, not the other one.
Your command is my wish sir.
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Your command is my wish sir.
I'm concerned because this thread--the larger one doesn't even show up--sometimes falls down to second place on google, under the dealership's facebook page. I'd like it to stay on top, in case walrus-face applies for a job and for some reason forgetfully omits to remember to tell the prospective employer some details.
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Would you buy a car from Doug??
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Would you buy a car from Doug??
Or a remote?
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Or a remote?
"Used, in good condition, may have fiberglass fibers inside".
:lmao:
CMD
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K&R for Dougie's prospective employers... :lmao:
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So, 100 pages ? After coach let me know I was on the wrong thread he helped me find this...the right one.
We're at 50 right now. All we need is some double magic.
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I think Doug Bulna did not hide the remote in the rafters at Gearhart Chevrolet, I think Doug Bulna hid the remote in the ceiling joists at Gearhart Chevrolet. Rafters are for roofs and joists are for ceilings or floors. Doug Bulna, being a democrat party representative and a self proclaimed genius, he should know the difference between what holds a roof over ones head and what holds the Gearhart Chevrolet ceiling up. Bengayz!
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after he strained the used oil through one of his old dirty socks.
My money says that Doug was strained through an old sock.
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I think Doug Bulna did not hide the remote in the rafters at Gearhart Chevrolet, I think Doug Bulna hid the remote in the ceiling joists at Gearhart Chevrolet. Rafters are for roofs and joists are for ceilings or floors. Doug Bulna, being a democrat party representative and a self proclaimed genius, he should know the difference between what holds a roof over ones head and what holds the Gearhart Chevrolet ceiling up. Bengayz!
I don't think he hid the television remote control in the rafters at all; I suspect that was a little literary license on walrus-face's part.
The interior of the business looks as if it has pretty high ceilings, and it's two stories; one assumes the non-salesmen offices are on the second floor (after one has a customer hooked, one doesn't want to waste time compelling him to climb stairs, lest he get second thoughts).
The customer waiting room would be, logically, on first floor too.
I think walrus-face merely slipped it into his pocket, and at some later time threw it out in the trash, or something like that.
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I don't think he hid the television remote control in the rafters at all; I suspect that was a little literary license on walrus-face's part.
The interior of the business looks as if it has pretty high ceilings, and it's two stories; one assumes the non-salesmen offices are on the second floor (after one has a customer hooked, one doesn't want to waste time compelling him to climb stairs, lest he get second thoughts).
The customer waiting room would be, logically, on first floor too.
I think walrus-face merely slipped it into his pocket, and at some later time threw it out in the trash, or something like that.
That hadn't occurred to me. It would make it so much more delicious if he were fired over a total bouncie.
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If the offices have standard eight-foot drop ceilings, it would be easy enough to toss it in there.
The ceilings here are pretty tall. I would have to get a ladder to reach them... I could stand on my desk and still wouldn't be close enough.
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If the offices have standard eight-foot drop ceilings, it would be easy enough to toss it in there.
The ceilings here are pretty tall. I would have to get a ladder to reach them... I could stand on my desk and still wouldn't be close enough.
But the photographs on facebook (the part that's visible to non-facebook members) shows the first floor has something rather higher than even "cathedral" ceilings.
As for the offices upstairs, they're probably standard height, but I just don't see walrus-face making the physical effort to do what he alleged he did. I think he just tossed into the trash somewhere.
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Here's my best guess on probably what really happened:
Walrus-face went to work that morning, and after punching in and some desultory chitchattery with a fellow employee or two, he walked through the customer waiting-room to get to the employees' restroom. On his way, he saw the television and its remote control, and slipped the latter into his pocket.
And then he sat on the commode for twenty or so minutes, reading either an automotive or pornographic magazine, leaving the restroom, because of the stench, unusable by the mechanics and salesmen until at least noon.
Then he went upstairs to his office, and tossed the remote control into the wastebasket.....or forgot he had it in his pocket until later, and tossed it into the trash-can at the neighborhood convenience store when he went there after work.
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Gearhart Chevrolet did rid themselves of an abusive, disgruntled employee.
Doug Bulna never missed a chance to trash them in his posts.
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Doug Bulna never missed a chance to trash them in his posts.
And while on the time-clock too.
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Here's my best guess on probably what really happened:
Walrus-face went to work that morning, and after punching in and some desultory chitchattery with a fellow employee or two, he walked through the customer waiting-room to get to the employees' restroom. On his way, he saw the television and its remote control, and slipped the latter into his pocket.
And then he sat on the commode for twenty or so minutes, reading either an automotive or pornographic magazine, leaving the restroom, because of the stench, unusable by the mechanics and salesmen until at least noon.
Then he went upstairs to his office, and tossed the remote control into the wastebasket.....or forgot he had it in his pocket until later, and tossed it into the trash-can at the neighborhood convenience store when he went there after work.
I imagined that you were going to say that when Doug pulled up his pants, the remote fell out of hi pocket into Doug's signature pile, and he didn't want to dig it out, so he just flushed it.
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Anybody else think that when the rest of the staff went to the crapper they said "I have to Bulna" of "I just Bulna'd"? I bet they do now.
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Anybody else think that when the rest of the staff went to the crapper they said "I have to Bulna" of "I just Bulna'd"? I bet they do now.
Seriously, though.
I'm probably the first person in the history of the world to mention this delicate problem, but I'll bet everybody knows at least one co-worker who stenches up the employee restroom so badly it's rendered unusable for hours.
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Seriously, though.
I'm probably the first person in the history of the world to mention this delicate problem, but I'll bet everybody knows at least one co-worker who stenches up the employee restroom so badly it's rendered unusable for hours.
Similar story with a chap with an affinity for exotic foods and demon rum. We solved the head problem with a sign that was to be posted on the door anytime he was observed entering. Unfortunately, there was serious carryover into the work environment causing much discussion as to whether he had flatulence issues or had actually crapped his pants.
Story had a happy ending when an anonymous benefactor sent management pictures of him sipping the nectar of the gods in the parking lot.
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Similar story with a chap with an affinity for exotic foods and demon rum. We solved the head problem with a sign that was to be posted on the door anytime he was observed entering. Unfortunately, there was serious carryover into the work environment causing much discussion as to whether he had flatulence issues or had actually crapped his pants.
Story had a happy ending when an anonymous benefactor sent management pictures of him sipping the nectar of the gods in the parking lot.
When I was a young lad working in a wholesale hardware distributorship, the shipping foreman was an older gentleman, a German from Russia. He drove a purplish Corvair all the years I was there (we're talking late 1970s, early 1980s, when I was in college), and had a wife who was a stunning 400 pounds big.
She didn't care for his stinking up the bathroom at home, and so he always arrived to work in a hurry, planting his lunch-box on his desk, and heading to the employee's restroom, where he'd sit for circa ten minutes, all the while reading old Hustler magazines featuring big women, that truck drivers used to bring for him.
His spicy Teutonic diet meant he raised a big stink in that restroom.
While he was in there, out of curiosity, I'd inspect the contents of his lunch-box--I got away with a lot of things many others wouldn't--but I could never figure out how he knew I was doing it; shortly after I'd started the daily inspection, there started appearing in the lunch-box a wrapped cookie or piece of cake with my name on it.....although a few other times, he put a triggered mouse-trap in there.
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I'm concerned because this thread--the larger one doesn't even show up--sometimes falls down to second place on google, under the dealership's facebook page. I'd like it to stay on top, in case walrus-face applies for a job and for some reason forgetfully omits to remember to tell the prospective employer some details.
It has done just that - fallen down to second place.
That being the case, heres some levity to keep it rolling:
A DUmmie with a walrus on a leash flopping along behind him walks into a bar. He points with his cane at the patrons, pitt among them, and announces: "This is an amazing New Jersian trained walrus. Buy me a drink and I will show you the most amazing thing! He's fantastic!" So a guy buys him a drink. The man looks down at the walrus. The walrus looks back at the man. Then the man whacks the walrus on the head with a cane! The walrus takes off his glasses, sits up on his tail and unzips the man's pants. He pulls out his tent pole and services it, rolling his eyes and using just a little tusk. As the man groans with pleasure, the walrus cleans him off with a napkin and rezips his pants. "Now, would any of you like to try it? Just buy me another beer," the man says. The pitt, raises his hand. "Sure, man, I'll try it...but please...don't hit me with that stick!"
How do you get Doug Bulna to do a sit up?
Tune the TV to fox and glue the remote control between his toes.
:lmao:
CMD
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While he was in there, out of curiosity, I'd inspect the contents of his lunch-box--
What did he typically eat?
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BEST THREAD EVER
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I often think of Douglas Bulna of Gearhard Chevrolet fame when I use my remote to change the channel to FOXNEWS. I wonder how many remotes he received for Christmas and if they were enough to supplement his AS income via garage sales. I envision a walrus with an inherently stupid look on his face sitting amongst a bazillion open USPS boxes with bubble wrap and tissue peeking from the boxes. Remotes of every brand and color piled in his lap,covering every surface of his furniture, and spilling out his door.
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I wonder if FOX news has heard the tale, of Doug Bulna hiding the remote to the Gearhart Chevrolet cable box at Gearhart Chevrolet in an effort to keep people from watching FOX news.
Surely they would be interested in the plight of Doug Bulna, and of the remote control he hid. Heck, maybe they could hire him. Surely Gearhart Chevrolet would give him a good reference. Hire him for a new segment, "What Would Doug Bulna Do", or maybe they could have him on for an occasional segment such as "Bias Against Media With Doug Bulna". Or a non-political, technology related segment such as "The Best Replacement Remote Control With Doug Bulna". Or a cooking segment..."The Best Fish Dish With Doug Bulna". An exercise segment perhaps? "Swimming With Doug Bulna". One about personal Hygiene, "Shaving With Doug Bulna". Just imagine any one of those segments coming through your cable box.
Fox news has a golden opportunity here, even if there is only a remote chance that Doug Bulna would take the job. Someone in control needs to recognize this. Doug Bulna could send their ratings right through the rafters.
CMD
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^5. Great post!
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What did he typically eat?
It's been so long ago I barely remember. I recall best that his wife used to fix him a couple of sandwiches that had the odor of warm mayonnaise emanating from them, but I could never figure out what the sliced meat was; it was always not-quite-all-the-way-baked white bread, which causes me to cross my eyes and go "Gaaaaaaaah...."
Then there'd be semi-liquid stuff in a couple of little Tupperware containers; my generic word for it is "glop." His wife like him was a German from Russia, so I assume it was along the nature of that cuisine.
Sliced liverwurst. Gaaaaaaah......
Sliced spiced ham (bologna?). Gaaaaaah.....
Limberger cheese. Gaaaaaah.....
Cold sauerkraut. Gaaaaaah.....
Some sort of sausage shaped like a horse-collar.
Something for dessert; a piece of cake, a brownie, or some cookies.
An apple, a banana, or an orange.
Inside the lid was a thermos of coffee, which confused me, because the business was generous in providing gallons of coffee to all its employees, and he had no qualms about drinking that coffee, but still, he'd bring in the lunch-box with coffee in the thermos.
To put it mildly, it all stank. I'm sure his wife washed out the lunch-box (which was plastic, not metal) every single day, but I'll bet all these odors got permanentized to the inside. The aroma made one want to give up eating for the rest of one's life.
To this day, I have a shuddering abhorrence to being around people bringing lunch-boxes and sack-lunches to work. Those times I worked at a place where the lunch-room had a refrigerator in it, well, I just went somewhere else.
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^What, no Gouda ? He Gouda been a contender !
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The two Tupperware containers of "glop" and the cold sauerkraut always had a layer of solid grease on top.
Gaaaaaah.....
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^What, no Gouda ? He Gouda been a contender !
OMG...PUN POLICE, WHERE ARE YOU?!
You deserve a BS for that...But because I'm partial to funny puns, you get a H5! :-)
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OMG...PUN POLICE, WHERE ARE YOU?!
You deserve a BS for that...But because I'm partial to funny puns, you get a H5! :-)
We all know the Zonbie has that problem but we try not to bring it up in polite company. BS him if you must, I often BS him for no reason at all but, don't H5 him as it just encourages him.
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Well, walrus-face showed up on Skins's island today, Thursday, but only one solitary sole single primitive paid him any attention. It's quite telling, when one starts a thread that garners 176 "views" but only one comment.
The primitives aren't saying anything because they're still waiting for the brain-damaged primitive to explain and apologize.
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Well, walrus-face showed up on Skins's island today, Thursday, but only one solitary sole single primitive paid him any attention. It's quite telling, when one starts a thread that garners 176 "views" but only one comment.
The primitives aren't saying anything because they're still waiting for the brain-damaged primitive to explain and apologize.
As I said on the thread honoring his sad post. I see the behavior of herd animals moving away from the wounded walrus leaving him to his grisly fate.
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As I said on the thread honoring his sad post. I see the behavior of herd animals moving away from the wounded walrus leaving him to his grisly fate.
Like cars swerving to avoid roadkill.
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Well, walrus-face showed up on Skins's island today, Thursday, but only one solitary sole single primitive paid him any attention. It's quite telling, when one starts a thread that garners 176 "views" but only one comment.
The primitives aren't saying anything because they're still waiting for the brain-damaged primitive to explain and apologize.
and its here: http://www.conservativecave.com/index.php/topic,93910.0.html
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This thread should be bumped, until he goes over and explains.
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This thread should be bumped, until he goes over and explains.
Oh, don't worry too much about that. The bumping part anyway.
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Oh, don't worry too much about that. The bumping part anyway.
The brain-damaged primitive's been wasting a lot of time trashing Chris Christie; it's obvious what that means, in the Freudian sense. He's dwelling upon the scandal-plagued governor to keep his mind off his own problems.
Like that's going to help walrus-face solve his own problems.
As far as I know, hanging around an internet message-board doesn't get the rent paid, groceries bought, the car filled with gasoline, job interviews.
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I'd wager the wastrel is drawing SS.
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I'd wager the wastrel is drawing SS.
That's a safe bet to make.
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That's a safe bet to make.
One I won't touch. I doubt he got UE because of firing for cause but in Obama's Ameruka he just night.
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One I won't touch. I doubt he got UE because of firing for cause but in Obama's Ameruka he just night.
It is currently fashionable to claim Assburglars for SSI bennies.
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It is currently fashionable to claim Assburglars for SSI bennies.
I'm not sure, but doesn't that take time, months? And it's been only five months now.
Perhaps after a penalty waiting period walrus-face got unemployment, but I can't see where that would've been enough to sustain his not-opulent-but-expensive life-style, not to mention that he still owes the Internal Revneue Service some bucks from when he tried to cheat them circa nine years ago.
I imagine applying for social security early retirement at 62 years is faster than disability?
I suspect he had a 401K or somesuch plan, and has been cashing that in.
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I'm not sure, but doesn't that take time, months? And it's been only five months now.
Perhaps after a penalty waiting period walrus-face got unemployment, but I can't see where that would've been enough to sustain his not-opulent-but-expensive life-style, not to mention that he still owes the Internal Revneue Service some bucks from when he tried to cheat them circa nine years ago.
I imagine applying for social security early retirement at 62 years is faster than disability?
I suspect he had a 401K or somesuch plan, and has been cashing that in.
Applying for any disability program SSI, VA etc. is a laborious process almost always involving queries, denials and appeals spread out over as much as two years. They want to make sure you are fully committed to the program. Going for early retirement is almost automatic.
Actually, like any bureaucracy, the system devolves into the glacial pace we see. The claims processor is evaluated by the number of claims "processed" per unit of time. If they lift your claim package off the desk, punch up a denial or query letter to be sent to you and place your claim package back on the pile, they have in fact "processed" a claim.
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You know, being a decent and civilized person, accepting of all who come this way, one of the nicest guys one can ever hope to meet, I used to possess a scintilla of sympathy for the brain-damaged primitive; after all, he's had a pretty crummy life.
But the longer this has gone on, walrus-face refusing to admit he'd been a jerk, those microscopic bits of sympathy, of human feelings for him, have eroded away. He's an ass, and probably hasn't gotten a hundredth of the misery and wretchedness he truly deserves.
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You know, being a decent and civilized person, accepting of all who come this way, one of the nicest guys one can ever hope to meet, I used to possess a scintilla of sympathy for the brain-damaged primitive; after all, he's had a pretty crummy life.
But the longer this has gone on, walrus-face refusing to admit he'd been a jerk, those microscopic bits of sympathy, of human feelings for him, have eroded away. He's an ass, and probably hasn't gotten a hundredth of the misery and wretchedness he truly deserves.
Maybe in Doug's case the LVV would reconsider his assertion that no one deserves to die homeless and broke.
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I'm not sure, but doesn't that take time, months? And it's been only five months now.
Perhaps after a penalty waiting period walrus-face got unemployment, but I can't see where that would've been enough to sustain his not-opulent-but-expensive life-style, not to mention that he still owes the Internal Revneue Service some bucks from when he tried to cheat them circa nine years ago.
I imagine applying for social security early retirement at 62 years is faster than disability?
I suspect he had a 401K or somesuch plan, and has been cashing that in.
Too bad this didn't happen before DU lll. At version ll, there was a "help the DUmmies get on SS benefit section" where all the DUmbasses shared secrets from passing the interview and how to appeal a denial.
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You know, being a decent and civilized person, accepting of all who come this way, one of the nicest guys one can ever hope to meet, I used to possess a scintilla of sympathy for the brain-damaged primitive; after all, he's had a pretty crummy life.
But the longer this has gone on, walrus-face refusing to admit he'd been a jerk, those microscopic bits of sympathy, of human feelings for him, have eroded away. He's an ass, and probably hasn't gotten a hundredth of the misery and wretchedness he truly deserves.
Don't let them drag ya down Coach!
You can keep your eyes on the horizon while seeing the mud at your ankles!
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Well, I didn't look real hard today on Skins's island, but what I looked at, I didn't see the brain-damaged primitive hanging around anywhere.
Skins would make life a great deal easier if he did what "right-wing" message boards do, and list the members currently on line, so that one doesn't have to go looking for someone, in the end finding that primitive isn't there.
Such lists of "members on line" are visible to mere lurkers too. On "right-wing" message boards.
Hiding "members on line" leads one to suspect someone's trying to hide something else; probably trying to hide a lot of things.
I guessing walrus-face wasn't around because libraries probably aren't open in urban northern New Jersey on Sundays, and he's probably long ago had to give up his home internet service.
Which he wouldn't've had to do, if he hadn't been such an ass.
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This thread should be bumped, until he goes over and explains.
Yes, we DEMAND Satisfaction:
[youtube=425,350]http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=xsR2-Tpsqqc[/youtube]
Now if only I could find a bacon vid to fit with it...
CMD
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http://www.democraticunderground.com/10024329561
Doug Bulna sighting.
DainBramaged (39,142 posts)
Drip drip drip
(Just a couple of images. Very...meh.)
The sink will run over very soon
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http://www.democraticunderground.com/10024329561
Doug Bulna sighting.
The post of a broken man.
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I see you guys spotted that too.
I stuck a note in the other thread. :rotf:
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I see you guys spotted that too.
I stuck a note in the other thread. :rotf:
I just checked this morning (Wednesday morning).
Thanks to all who've been posting on this thread, as it's now back to the top of the page when one googles walrus-face (Tucker's longer thread doesn't show up there).
It had spent a couple of weeks in lowly second place, being usurped by the Gearhart facebook page.
But it's back on top now, easily accessible for any prospective employer to check up on things in case the brain-damaged primitive forgot to make a clean breast of things.
Thanks, everybody....but this thread needs constant attention, to stay in first place.
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I think ol Walrusface aka DainBramaged aka Doug Bulna aka Douglas Bulna aka Douglas C. Bulna of Gearhard Chevrolet fame is focused on Christie due to the two of them having something in common. Their girth. He is hoping they soon have another thing in common... their employment status.
Good luck with that, Walrusface. The folks in NJ don't give two flips. They still like him. How that must annoy the walrus.
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I think ol Walrusface aka DainBramaged aka Doug Bulna aka Douglas Bulna aka Douglas C. Bulna of Gearhard Chevrolet fame is focused on Christie due to the two of them having something in common. Their girth. He is hoping they soon have another thing in common... their employment status.
Good luck with that, Walrusface. The folks in NJ don't give two flips. They still like him. How that must annoy the walrus.
Subtle, the Zombie could learn from you.
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Subtle, the Zombie could learn from you.
I couldn't hold a candle to either of you or anybody else in this forum on my best day.
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Subtle, the Zombie could learn from you.
How dare you ?
Speaking of subtle, I may get addicted to that for awhile...if I could ever get off this "How dare you?" addiction.
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How dare you ?
Speaking of subtle, I may get addicted to that for awhile...if I could ever get off this "How dare you?" addiction.
Stick to the "how dare you?" it suits you.
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Stick to the "how dare you?" it suits you.
My "How dare you" suit...
(http://blogs.independent.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/romper.jpg)
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I haven't seen Doug Bulna at the DUmp lately.
He's probably still busy looking for the stolen remote.
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Back down to number 2 so I decided to write a note to Doug Bulna, tangentially related to the "fox news stolen TV remote hidden in the rafters at Gearhart Chevrolet" saga:
Dear Doug,
Have you come clean yet? You know you want to.
Incidentally, heres a couple things I thought you should know, that could aid in you keeping out of serious trouble:
(http://www.mediabistro.com/fishbowldc/files/original/fox-tv.jpg)
A: The white house does not have rafters like Gearhart Chevrolet.
B: The secret service arrests and potentially even shoots people engaged in stealing TV remotes at the White House.
So think twice about it and be safe.
CMD
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I wonder what ol' Doug Bulna of Gearhart Chevrolet fame thinks of the Obama going on FOX for the Super Bowl?
Benghazi!
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I have to wonder what Doug Bulna is up to.
He pops into the DUmp, drops one turd of a post, then runs away again.
Maybe he thinks we've forgotten.
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I have to wonder what Doug Bulna is up to.
He pops into the DUmp, drops one turd of a post, then runs away again.
Maybe he thinks we've forgotten.
Not a chance! :whistling:
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Hiding "members on line" leads one to suspect someone's trying to hide something else; probably trying to hide a lot of things.
Help me out, Frank. Call me clueless, but what would this hide? Is Skinner hiding numbers (maybe accepting cash from the Rats for corralling the crazies? i.e. defrauding the democrat party)?
Or is he hiding the fake members who suddenly show up with 1000's of posts pushing the party line?
It's no surprise finding falsehood in any democrat organization, corruption is so much a part of this party.
What would hiding online members gain for Skinman?
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Help me out, Frank. Call me clueless, but what would this hide?.....What would hiding online members gain for Skinman?
I think this not showing members on-line is based simply on fear.
And it doesn't help that Democrats, liberals, and primitives have a long-standing habit of being secretive.
It could be an internet security issue too; I'm sure that my fellow alum Skins like myself is acutely aware of how primitives tend to prey upon each other, and by not letting them know who's around at the moment (they can find out, of course, but it takes work), to some extent minimizes their chances to indulge in predatory behavior.
It's a snake-pit, Skins's island.
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Frank, speaking of Whois Online, what happened to the clickable link on the home page where one could see what our guests were viewing? At one time I could click it, then go see just what it was that held their interest. Or is my Alzheimer's biting me on the bug again and not letting me click the right place anymore?
Sorry to go off-topic, but your post reminded me.
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Frank, speaking of Whois Online, what happened to the clickable link on the home page where one could see what our guests were viewing? At one time I could click it, then go see just what it was that held their interest. Or is my Alzheimer's biting me on the bug again and not letting me click the right place anymore?
Sorry to go off-topic, but your post reminded me.
No problem.
I assume you know the "forum page," where all the forums are listed and linked.
At the bottom of that page there's "Users Online."
In the below case, one clicks on the "76 Guests, 23 Users," and it shows what each lurking primitive and which each member is viewing at the time. This is accessible to all registered members, but not to lurking primitives.
(http://i1100.photobucket.com/albums/g419/Eferrari/january/users_zpsa6d0ba7f.jpg) (http://s1100.photobucket.com/user/Eferrari/media/january/users_zpsa6d0ba7f.jpg.html)
But retreating back one step to my original complaint; I don't care what the primitives and lurkers are reading on Skins's island; that's something I can pretty much figure out at a casual eye-balling.
But I think it's silly that Skins doesn't list the primitives online for the general public (remember, here, the general public can see who's online), so that the general public may decide on its own whether to stick around, or come back later.
I think Skins is afraid to let this be accessible information.
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By the way, it occurred to me; the above screen-capture's what a moderator sees; what a member sees might be a little different.
Of those members listed online above, in italics, while a moderator can see those names, a member (or a primitive lurking here) sees only "[hidden member]."
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Thanks coach!
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bump........ Just need to keep tabs. This prick has been shut down more than a KKK rally in Harlem. He deserves everything he gets!
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It must have been the other thread that coach was referring to.
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Bump, just trying to keep this thread #2 on Google.
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Bump, just trying to keep this thread #2 on Google.
Maybe, just maybe we can get it all the way to #1 with a bullet, errr, with a hidden remote control.
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Just a reminder - an example of reliable democrat judgment:
Response to DainBramaged (Original post)
Wed Aug 21, 2013, 09:16 PM
Star Member CaliforniaPeggy (107,875 posts)
1. That was an excellent move, my dear DainBramaged!
It was sort of like how nadin read the tea leaves on the San Diego election.
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It must have been the other thread that coach was referring to.
No, it's this thread.
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K&, easy but DUmmie noobs can't figure it out.
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1,000 replies has a nice ring to it.
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1,000 replies has a nice ring to it.
The other one about Doug Bulna's thievery has almost 1600.
Haven't you checked it lately? :???:
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The other one about Doug Bulna's thievery has almost 1600.
Haven't you checked it lately? :???:
Yes, I have. This thread is lagging badly regarding Doug Bulna's treachery.
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Yes, I have. This thread is lagging badly regarding Doug Bulna's treachery.
True. It may catch up a bit.
I'm quite pleased to see that you're at least making an effort. :cheersmate:
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1,000 replies has a nice ring to it.
Inquiring minds want to know if Doug Bulna was involved in the recent bomb threat at Gearhart Chevrolet...
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Inquiring minds want to know if Doug Bulna was involved in the recent bomb threat at Gearhart Chevrolet...
With the TV remote trigger.
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With the TV remote trigger.
Hypothetically speaking, if say...Doug Bulna were to have hidden a TV remote control in the rafters at Gearhart Chevrolet and gotten fired for it, then later phoned in a bomb threat to Gearhart Chevrolet...
Could we say he was upping his game? :-)
CMD
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Hypothetically speaking, if say...Doug Bulna were to have hidden a TV remote control in the rafters at Gearhart Chevrolet and gotten fired for it, then later phoned in a bomb threat to Gearhart Chevrolet...
Could we say he was upping his game? :-)
CMD
I could see where it would be rational to say that Doug Bulna was stepping up his game. But not in a good way.
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I could see where it would be rational to say that Doug Bulna was stepping up his game. But not in a good way.
It's been a slow couple of days--not only here, but on the whole internet.
There were millions of people doing things other than sitting in front of their computers.
<<<wonders what's up with that.
Me, I spent most of the weekend reading a 712-page biography of the famous stage actor Jacob Adler, as not much seemed to be happening on Skins's island.
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It's been a slow couple of days--not only here, but on the whole internet.
There were millions of people doing things other than sitting in front of their computers.
<<<wonders what's up with that.
Me, I spent most of the weekend reading a 712-page biography of the famous stage actor Jacob Adler, as not much seemed to be happening on Skins's island.
In the Northeast, we had a break in the winter weather; temperatures soared into the 50s. Everybody was outside.
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My my, how time flies.
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Aha.
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(http://s28.postimg.org/6skk5ip99/7fjvr.jpg)
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This sound be a lesson to any business that hires liberals, more specifically those that post on DU.
I am sure their potential customers are loving the search engine results.
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This sound be a lesson to any business that hires liberals, more specifically those that post on DU.
I am sure their potential customers are loving the search engine results.
The same should happen to more libs, like Lerner...and the whole owebuma administration.
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The same should happen to more libs, like Lerner...and the whole owebuma administration.
:-)
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Has anyone heard anything from ole Douggie boy. Maybe he took the remote control idea and is hiding.
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Has anyone heard anything from ole Douggie boy. Maybe he took the remote control idea and is hiding.
He's working on his book "Remote Control Stealing For Dummies".
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He is working IT for Will Pitt's Ninja Lawyer Firm.
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A WHOLE YEAR ??????.....time sure flies when someone steals your channel changer.
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I wonder what happened to DainBramage.
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I wonder what happened to DainBramage.
DUers think he took early retirement.