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It's not me. This is me:

WHY ALL THOSE STUPID PICTURES?


IGNORE

GAGAGO wrote: WHY ALL THOSE STUPID PICTURES?


IGNORE

We need to have a talk about your attitude.

-P

ATTITUDE? MOI? Hear hear who is

talking?

Sitting alone, anxious and bored,
Trying to find all the right words,
The day drags on, my thoughts race toward,
Burnt thanksgiving ugly-birds,

Could consuming this creature ever have been,
Some kind of morbid, vulgar sin?
Do the burnt-legs I gulp down, with wine?
Or fermented-guilt? And so, I opine...

How could I ever face another,
If he might one day discover,
That what I bake and rub and smother,
Could have been his younger brother?

robocop656 wrote: This is me:

So This is what I will keep!

OH my leaking brain just remembered that some A10 also has his birthday today. So I wish you a happy one. Maybe with some turkeycake...

ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ wrote: OH my leaking brain just remembered that some A10 also has his birthday today. So I wish you a happy one. Maybe with some turkeycake...

Aww, thanks.
A muffin-cake, with burnt emu legs as candles.

Sorry I missed your birthday-party, but I will go to Onkel at the Phallus-ranch, on Now 21, and hope to see you there for Thanksgiving.
I have made a song for us to sing, that I hope will help the two big countries, to be really friends, since I use the Russian National-hymn as music to the new lyrics.

A song to sing on Thanksgiving-eve, when the ugly bird is simmering in it's own fat, and burning it's shrunk legs, in the, a bit for ugly-spindly limbs, too hot oven.


Turkeys, our Turkeys, our ugly Turkeys,
Turkeys, our sacred and feathered nerds,
All mighty power, all mighty glory,
Are yours for ever,
In our all time history.

Be Glorious on our Thanksgiving,
Ancient union of feathering swinging,
Ancestor given,
Beauty to our Turkey herds,
That no longer is liven,
Whe are proud even over your turds.

From the southern land to the polar legion,
Lie our forests and fields,
Our Turkeys are picking for corn in our region,
They are one with the sod,
In our land protected by God.

Wide spaces for dreams and for living,
Are open to you, if not under beds,
Your comfort is important to us, and to Feds,
The strengths you are giving,
So it was, so it is, and so it will be driving,
For ever and ever, you Turkeys are we.

Predkami dannaya,
Mudrost narodnaya,
Slavsya, strana amy,
Gordim sya to boy....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kVdVTVR-j0Q

ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ wrote:Predkami dannaya,
Mudrost narodnaya,
Slavsya, strana amy,
Gordim sya to boy....

Kto takaja Amy??

AMY? Oh you dont know her? She is a dentist in Helsinki. Particularly sadistic! Huh.

Chatt between Commander Strutt, on the ship "Excelsior five" and General-Commander, Pekka Nurmi, on the planet Earth...


P: Hi there Strutt! I am beaming up to you tomorrow at noon. I would like to see more closely at the shit-sausage, they call "2005 YU 55". Nasa takes the chance to shine, but not a word about what this thing really is. A 55 million ton heavy, 400 meter in diameter, pure old alienshit-sausage. Really big shit, but frozen, so it doesn't smell. At all, I think. Haha!

St: Yes I know. We were once close to collide with that huge faeces-thing and that would really have been a shitty-crock.

P: Yes, haha! And if your warm-shield had thawed up some of it, that would have been even more fun. Huh! But I am more concerned about what will happen to Betelgeuse, in Orion, next year. Some say it will explode, to a supernova and shine as bright as the sun here.

ST: Pekka, Pekka, you shouldn't listen to those Domesday-prophets. They like sensations and are more superstitious, than the makers of that stupid "Star-wars". She will not explode in our lifetime, so all this talk is nothing you have to worry about. You can sit safe on your strategic placed goatfarm. How is it there now by the way? Snow?

P: Oh thank you for asking. Snow soon! But I had to take the goats indoors early this year. There are at least five hungry bears, that would like goatmeat for supper, before they go to their hibernation-dens. There are more bears in Finland and Russia than ever before.

ST: Huh, that sounds dangerous. You must take care Pekka...

P: Thank you, I will. See you tomorrow then, with our shitsausage...

Where can I meet this alienguy?

I, Arnold, a simple, proud, but mild-mannered plumber from Leeds, England, would like to hereby formally request more information about the nature of the plump sausage that is currently on trajectory to strike the earth's crust and end life as we know it. Particularly, how many more days do I have to eat, before my life perishes? I must plan my next meals carefully. That is for sure.

Arnold Layne

Aber doch Arnold. You can't eat shit like that, Arnold! That alientype has told us that this aSSteroid is pure, well accumulated and flavoured, almost bigbang-old shit, Arnold.

And, how are you going to get it, that is my question. Aren't, you talking over your head now, Arnold? You have, to my knowledge no wings, Arnold, and even if you had, you couldn't come up in the air, Arnold. Come to Germany, Arnold, we have other sausages. From cows Arnold...

ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ wrote: AMY? Oh you dont know her? She is a dentist in Helsinki. Particularly sadistic! Huh.

Butt, butt every dentist is probably a sadist here! How will I recognise her?

You recognice her by her nametag, Amy Sadisto. She is an all-category-maxie-sadist, and to feel real pleasure, she must inflict physical and mental pain, on as many as possible.
But she is also a masochist and loves to be abused, which maybe can compensate her patients a little.

But I recommend you to pick another, more normal dentist-sadist.

My eyes. I cannot believe my fucking eyes!! Today I, Arnold, received a formal invitation to attend A10's thanksgiving orgy under his bed in a brown box ten minutes from icecar- and I couldn't be anymore thrilled! I have been told that roast emu leg and troglodyte steaks will be served as well, and that the bowflex will be available but NOT required.

I wonder what I will wear for this spectacular occasion...time to to go shopping on the clothingslines. HUH!

Arnold Layne

Oh dear, oh dear.
Thanksgiving is round the corner and Ö10 is missing in action. Perhaps another bike-accident. HUH!

Although I, Arnold, will benefit from an increased portion size of the beautiful brown bird, it will still not be the same without her...and Heinzy.... Jaja...

Arnold Layne

Today a duck waded inside my bathtub. There are turkey stuffings coming out my my ears! Lost my socks. Two dial up modems in the wilderness. How many Surströmming may we eat this thanksgiving day?

Is there any left in the world?.. I thought you ate it all!

Can you actually send me some in the mail? I'd love to open that in front of everyone for Thanksgiving.

Arnold Layne wrote:Oh dear, oh dear.
Thanksgiving is round the corner and Ö10 is missing in action. Perhaps another bike-accident. HUH!

Although I, Arnold, will benefit from an increased portion size of the beautiful brown bird, it will still not be the same without her...and Heinzy.... Jaja...

Arnold Layne

Same accident.

I have a hole in my skull-bone, dear Arnold, dear Arnold. I have a hole in my skullbone, dear Arnold. A hole!

So mend it, dear Ö10, mend it, dear Ö10. So mend it!

With what can I mend it, dear Arnold, dear Arnold? Whit what can I mend it? With what?

Put in a cork there, dear Ö10, dear Ö10, put in a cork there! A cork!

But the cork is too big, dear Arnold, dear Arnold, The cork is too big.

So cut it, dear Ö10. Cut it, dear Ö10. So cut it.

But my hole leaks my brain-cells, dear Arnold, dear Arnold. It leaks my cells.

So try a cell-phone, dear Ö10, dear Ö10. Try a cell-phone as cork!

But a cell-phone will be ringing, dear Arnold, dear Arnold! A cell-phone will ring!

So answer the cell-phone, dear Ö10. So answer the cellphone, dear Ö10. Answer it.

And who will be calling, dear Arnold, dear Arnold. Who will be calling? When it rings?

It is me Arnold, that call you, dear Ö10, dear Ö10. It is me calling from Leeds.

And what do you want, dear Arnold, dear Arnold? What do you want?

I will be mending the hole in your skull-bone, dear Ö10, dear Ö10. I will mend your skull.

And with what will you mend it, dear Arnold, dear Arnold? With what?

With a cork dear Ö10, dear Ö10. With a cork!

But your cork is too big dear Arnold, dear Arnold. Your cork is too big.............................................................................

I, Arnold, hereby announce my humblest sympathies, which I extend toward O10 in her time of need. Again!

And this simple man from Leeds, England, will show his support in the only way he can.

You'll feel better after reading this. Its time we began!

Signed, Arnold, your BIGGEST fan.

---

There once was a girl from Sweden,
Who took a heck of a beatin',
I feel guilty that I did not ASSist,
And I hope she isn't too pissed,
Butt it happened while I was a-eatin'

Arnold Layne

Ah the day is nigh!

Only two days until I see the gang again.

And the night is soon day!

I hope you are visible, most of the time, this year! I have a bag with Nomnomnoms for you, marked and tattoed, Pablo! But you can, if you want, share them with the rest of us.

Arnold Layne wrote:I, Arnold, hereby announce my humblest sympathies, which I extend toward O10 in her time of need. Again!

And this simple man from Leeds, England, will show his support in the only way he can.

You'll feel better after reading this. Its time we began!

Signed, Arnold, your BIGGEST fan.

---

There once was a girl from Sweden,
Who took a heck of a beatin',
I feel guilty that I did not ASSist,
And I hope she isn't too pissed,
Butt it happened while I was a-eatin'

Arnold Layne

Thank you Arnold, for the nice and kind thoughts, so well expressed. You are soon, almost ass good ass A10. In poemwriting, I mean.

I arrived to Onkel in Phallus, Texas, yesterday and time seemed to have stand still here. Everything was exactly the same, but without the evil-goat-eating-hybrid-cat, that nowadays is upphoistered in a Dallas-museum.

Onkel wanted me to stay, but I am going to Seattle and the brown box today. I have asked A10 to scatter the damn, not so beautiful birds, after he killed one, and taken away the head, so my esthetic mind not will be damaged.

I will help him with the preparations under the bed and I had hoped he would teach me, how to bake his onion-hashish-muffins, but he is very reluctant there and even called me a MISERERE when I asked!. HUH, what a red-hot temperament, that baker has.

When are you coming? I B T-S and R E, with long, not so burned, but thin and not especially tasty legs, so you can surely eat ass much ass you want.

See you under the bed and looking forward to it very much.

The B.T.S* and REL* are making me drool,
*(No names no flames is still the rule),
But nonetheless, my main concern,
Lies with the fatto Arnold, whom you still yearn.

The minute Arnold shows up, I have heard,
There'll be nothing left of that burnt bird,
That is K. Rouster's testimony, who told me in Dallas,
In fact, swore by the wrinkles of his phallus,
That Arnold nearly destroyed the Kebab palace.

Now, my burrow is barely fit for a fox,
I don't have a palace, just a flimsy brown box,
One bowflex, a tall bed, an oven for baking,
Burglars- good luck finding something worth taking.

Arnold could destroy me, that's what I dread,
If he pries and pushes to squeeze under my bed,
And it would be a miracle, a real stroke of luck,
If he manages not to get stuck.

I invited that fatto, under one condition,
If he has even a prayer of receiving admission,
Keep him on a leash, pay for his parking,
And absolutely, positively, NO to the barking.

PS: Sorry for calling you a miserere.

Ah, Thanksgiving, in the brown Box and I will drool,
For hope that this one, will follow the rule,
That the Baker, the birdlegs, like last year, will burn,
Because all his guests for them now will yearn.

Rumours about the Arnold-invitation are heard,
That the Baker has regrets, since he fears that one bird,
Will NOT be enough, so he ordered some more, from the Kebab-Palace,
But mr K Rooster has closed his Kebab and moved to Dallas,
Where he now tries to heal, both his mind and his phallus.

But I will bring the Emu-roast, larger than a fox,
And push it under the bed in the little brown Box,
And then I will lurk, when the Baker is baking,
His onion-muffins and be ready for the recipe-taking.

But I understand, what he will most of all dread,
Is that the place, with Arnold under the bed,
Will be a bit crowded, and with some unluck,
Together with the big Emu he there will be stuck.

And with the Bakers red-hot temper, he can not give admission,
To Arnold alone with the Emu in roasted condition,
He would eat it all when he is under-bed-parking,
And scare away us others with his large barking.

The Baker called me a MISERERE and that was NOT easy to take,
So I have stolen all his rhymes and made a remake,
That is my revenge and for his own sake,
I hope he understands, that he better has to stay with his bake,
Or, otherwise, I will him by his fucking ears shake-and-shake...

robocop656 wrote:Can you actually send me some in the mail? I'd love to open that in front of everyone for Thanksgiving.

Sorry! I don't have anymore..
It wasn't made for eternity,
And hasn't survived in my dog fraternity.