Ax

I've always believed the world missed a great opportunity, immediately after 9/11, to wipe out every known terrorist organization possible. 

The KKK would have been on my list. Even today, I would have little issue with luring them to a remote location, under the guise of receiving free "whatever", and killing every goddamn one of them. But that's me. I'm not one for dancing around the edges. to paraphrase Eula Goodnight, "A sharp knife cuts the fastest, and hurts the least."

Of course, today, I'd have little issue treating Antifa, BLM, New Black Panther Party, or any other color/race specific hate group, with the same justice. No, they haven't been around as long. And no, they haven't committed all the types and numbers of crimes, yet. But, just as we'd all be better off had the KKK been wiped out in it's infancy, so would we be now, in stopping ANY such group of morons from gaining further support.

Well then, this explains it.

It appears that around the same time DieHard "claims" to have come up with the idea for this place, my thoughts and ideas about the exact same things were being stolen.

At first, I couldn't feel the telepathic waves scavenging my thoughts, because it was only happening while I slept. There were times, I'd wake up before the connection was terminated, and I could tell someone had tapped into my mind. But the slippery **** covered his tracks well. He was scrambling his telepathy waves in a way that didn't allow me to back-trace them to their source.

As time went on, it got worse. Much worse. There were now multiple points of origin, from which a growing group of deviants, masters of telepathic thievery, were stealing my thoughts.

My ideas.

My dreams.

There was even one time when, apparently by the cunning use of transcendental meditation, that they transported me to the mothership, and performed, um, tests on me. I couldn't hear their telepathic conversations, and the room was very dark, so identifying anyone was impossible. The only thing I can recall is, while struggling to try and keep them from strapping me to the gurney, my hand brushed across what I believe to be, a nipple ring. But that's it.

I damn near went broke buying aluminum foil. And not that thin cheap stuff either. We're talking Reynolds Heavy Duty. I finally had to stop fighting though. I gave in, and let them establish a full time connection to my mind. They take what they want, whenever they please. This "History" confirms what I always suspected.

What else could explain why I wake up, everyday, with my brain feeling like half dried Jello, and without even a trace of any coherent thought?

Huh? What else?

MOVEMENT

Close lavatory door

Take a Cowboy

Wipe your Romo sits to pee

This weekend we head to, the new FedEx South

To bust the damn Cowboys, square in the mouth

They think that last Sunday, was only a fluke

With Skins over Broncos, and Pack over Pukes

But somewhere deep, in the back of there minds

They know that their asses, are all on the line

They understand meltdown, will follow this loss

They curl up in fear, of Santana Moss

They've already started, to clear out that spot

The closet they store all the team stuff they got

For Sunday's the last time to see it this year

Don't worry little Cowboy, you'll see it next year

:dallasuck:dallasuck:dallasuck:dallasuck:dallasuck:dallasuck

Sonny nailed it.

Show me a picture from any of our Championship years wearing those vomit inducing burgundy on :puke:gundy, or the Good Humor/KKK/Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man white on whites, and I'll stop ****ing about it.

Until they win a Championship, this crop of players, coaches, and owners, haven't earned the right to change something that was here before them, and will remain after they've gone. Every second used thinking about the color of their pants could be better spent concentrating on completing their ****ing assignments. THAT'S what they get paid for.

Absolutely ****ing putrid!!!!!

To go along with an all Burgundy uniform, we could change the logo to a monkey ****in' a pile of puke, so they'd match. :2cents:

Opinion Provided By: A Friendly Neighborhood Fashion Cop.

Yes man, all Crackboy fans sit at home, watch football, and drool over d***.

Emptiness

Needles on E

The final frontier

A Cowboy fans brain

The Cowboy Way

My mother

My sister

My wife

Redskins are burgundy,

Cowboys are blue.

Skins smell like roses,

Cowboys like pooh.

____________________________________________________________

3-6-9, the Redskins dine,

On maggot lookin' Cowboys with the Swiss cheese line.

The line broke, the quarterback choked,

and thet buried Tony Romo sits to pee like a pig in a poke.

Hey Manic, I know you said you loved your "pitchfork" but I think you're being had. I hate to be the one to break it to you...

but...

...it's really a potato fork. Maybe it had an operation you didn't know about, but you'd better find out before you take the relationship any further.

Originally posted by Blondie

Time for the old hag to post a pic.

Blondie

In this case, Webster's Dictionary defines hag as...

H ot

A merican

G irl

If I may be so bold, your Majesty.:notworthy