Tiger Tiger

i was thinking maybe annex canada, sell it to mexico, and use the money to remodel alaska...

 

If we did that then all of the Mexicans would be tramping through our yard to go north.

 

I'm impressed, an american that knows where Canada is on the map, thats rare.

 

I have been to BOTH sides of Niagra Falls. I walked across the river one winter. Does that make me a wet-back?

 

Hmmmm. Poutine burritos and Molson's Mexican Lager beer. Toronto Gold and Mexican Bud doobies. You will have it all right at both doorsteps. I can just see it now.

 

Only if you slipped and fell while crossing, otherwise you're just a wet-boot.

 

Do any of you recall the fears voiced over NAFTA a few years back? People were saying it was the beginning of the New World Order. They were afraid the Mex, Can, and USA would join and become the Nation of North America.
I wonder how long that would last until we all got sick of each other and start a huge civil war?

 

I clicked on an intriguing title on another forum. It all started innocently enough...
I guy was explaining how his motorcycle got him noticed by the girl in the office that everyone wanted to get to know better. What happened next surprised me.
The original poster is actually a master craftsman when it comes to spinning a yarn.
I realized this, along with everyone else who fell into his web, about the tenth page or so. This story got better with every word. It has all the twists and turns of a well directed dramatic film. The description alone was of such detail so as to evoke emotion and response from the reader.
I have always fancied myself a writer(as if you couldn't tell). This man makes me feel like a child scribbling backwards letters with crayons on discarded newspaper.
I guess certain things put me in a mood to write. The muses, if you will. A good story makes me want to write one as well. I recall one I am quite proud of. I wrote it after having watched a certain edition of Romeo and Juliette. I had had a bit to drink as well. But the light of day and clarity of sobriety showed it to be good.
Another penning I am proud of is one of little sense. It is written in the style of Stream of Consciousness. This is simply writing down each thought that enters one's head without regard to subject or relevance. I wrote for one entire class day in my second year of nursing school. It is beautiful in its' abstract. Like paint splattered on a wall or flowers and weeds in a field untouched my man.
I gave myself away already by mentioning that another man's story prompted me to write. If one looks closely, is not every story written a product of what the author has taken in? If it were not for events or thoughts of others, there would be naught to write about. If we had not seen and heard the art of others, I feel our imaginations would be pale and bland. If we had not experienced life in reaction to others' effects on us, how would we truly know what life was?
Shortly after I left highschool, a friend of mine was killed tragically. I went back to my home town for only the second time since moving away. Ten years had not changed it much. To me, though, it was so eerily different at the same time. I confessed to another close friend that I had felt like a fraud. I had to explain that I had picked up some of the mannerisms of the mutual friend that had passed. And being there at that moment made me feel like I had stolen something, or at least plagiarized his actions.
The mutual friend/confessor let me in on a secret. A secret of social universality. We, most all of us, pick up actions from others as we go along. Whether it be tapping fingers, speech patterns, or style of dress...we are not 100% individual.
There is nothing new under the sun. No new tale to tell. We can dress things up, rearrange them, call them new names. These things are not new or different.
So, another man's story made me want to write my own. I wrote a piece of it here.
Let me gather up a speck of dust and scribble down my life's story.

 

Please pm me the name of the prescription you are taking, along with the brand of beer necessary to create the chemical reaction to foment such emotional outbursts.......I've got cabin fever like a mofo.

 

Have you ever though about this?

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Now that is deep!

 

Drew, I enjoy your posts. You are an amazingly talented writer.:clap2:

 

I just now completed reading this thread from beginning to end. It made a lot of sense to me. Now I'm scared.

 

Your scared? I'm absatively horrified that you could read all the cryptic ramblings

 

My apologies for absatively horrifying you. Now leave me alone so I can get back to watching the cryptically fascinating and rambling Giants / Cowboys game.

 

As the standard goes the paper is used to cover the rock therefore making it unusable. However, we all know this to be a fallacy. Countless rocks and bricks have been thrown through windows with notes(written on paper, mind you) wrapped around them.
If that hard object were actually ineffective, millions of dollars of prop glass from television shows and movies would have been saved. For, having been rendered useless by the paper, the rock would have just fallen to the ground.

 

WHOAH.............. thats deep.

 

absract countinuit contunuialty.old post with so much meaning.The meaning must be boredom.Most entertaining."Tigger'Tigger"like "Winnie the Pooh"?Nevermind

 

they have internet in Bishop.......WOW :wink:

 

At times like this one wonders why snow is white.