SeanK in Bitches:
I feel like I've betrayed my Anarchist upbringing.
My inner radical is lying in a corner, in his dirty Black Flag t-shirt, with his anti-globalization sign, bleeding to death from the dagger of Democracy I stuck in his liver.
This thread is for Buffista quotage. Posts that are profound, witty, or otherwise deserving of immortality go here. This is also Shrift's source for the BRQG, so be aware that if your words end up here, they'll also end up there. Finally, please note which thread spawned the quotage and please white-out anything that might be spoilery to Un-Americans.
SeanK in Bitches:
I feel like I've betrayed my Anarchist upbringing.
My inner radical is lying in a corner, in his dirty Black Flag t-shirt, with his anti-globalization sign, bleeding to death from the dagger of Democracy I stuck in his liver.
It's a poignant COMM:
DX in Sang:
Waking up... Too much partying... Too much alcohol... Stupid sun in eyes...
Lost pronouns and articles somewhere last night. Crawl out of bed and make some coffee. Sit down at desk and notice computer is already on. Penguin must have already gone on-line this morning. Browser window still open, start reading thread. Wow, there sure were a lot of posts in this one. Wonder what's up? Continue reading... And reading... And reading...
Close browser window and shut down machine. Open cabinet door under kitchen sink and coax trembling penguin out from inside. Head across the street to park with bird. Find biggest patch of dandelions available and plop down. Sigh...
scrappy, in Natter:
Matzo is like a saltine without salt. Matzo is an ine.
Madrigal: We had eight kinds of milk, all state mandated, sold for less than a nickel each. I can't think of all the types without resorting to goat or human kindness.
Madrigal in Natter:
If you're Irish and can trace back to the Famine, you don't have to follow the Catholic dietary rules. Evidently for once the Church decided that the amount of suffering was exactly enough.
amych, in Bitches:
beignets and paczi? It's like I've died and gone to ethnically-named-doughnut heaven!
Trudy, coming up with yet another thread title for the next Bureaucracy:
Bureaucracy II: Screw Kafka, we're talkin' Beckett.
I don't want to toot my own horn, but I'm particularly proud of the double entendre in that.
Wolfram, in Natter:
Next time a handsome man holds the door open for you, or pulls out your chair, or just bowls you over as he flees from a crime scene, remember to say, thanks Wolfram. Thanks a lot.