Miracleman is on a roll. Presumably not Kaiser

All I was trying to say was [*we interrupt this post in the interests of common sense. The poster obviously has no idea how to say what he intends or explain the complexities of what he feels, thinks, or thinks he feels. For the common good we have stepped in to overwrite his rambling, nonsensical and, frankly, inadvertently offensive justification of his prior post to instead present this surreal joke:

Q. Why couldn't Bob go through the revolving door?

A. Because he had a javelin through his skull.

We now return you to the inane post nearing its end. Thank you.

This has been a Public Service by the More Discreet Part of Miracleman's Brain. Yes, the More Discreet part. Frightening, isn't it?*] with a platypus up his ass!

That's all I meant.

The Miracleborns are in rare form today:

Aimée: Ok, I want a bike.

And I want to take Em riding in a baby seat.

I can not seem to find a helmet.

Anyone else able to find them?

Miracleman: How about a forcefield?

Gimme just a couple days and $6,000,000,000.00. No problem.

Aimée: We used our last $6,000,000,000.00 for our best friends' wedding.

Boxed Set:

Vonnie K: Quick! Someone name the 1st to the 7th plague!

Laura: George Bush, Dick Cheney, Karl Rove, Condi Rice, Don Rumsfeld, Alberto Gonzales, Bill Frist? I might have them in the wrong order.

Name of failed blowjob-ee deleted for kindness:

Kat: A college friend tried to offer him a blow job in the men's room once. When she was turned down, she was so disconsolate she tried to drown herself in the lady's room sink.

In COMM, BetshyH:

Name of failed blowjob-ee deleted for kindness

... while the rest of us wonder what a "failed blowjob" might be.

Unlike Betsy, I think the whole thing is funnier if you know the guy who, er, blew it:

Kat: Ray Liotta has terrible skin. A college friend tried to offer him a blow job in the men's room once. When she was turned down, she was so disconsolate she tried to drown herself in the lady's room sink.

Ah, college. Good times, good times.

Plei: Bras, on the other hand, are NOT something you find in good shape at Goodwill. Shoes can be fixed up with a bit of polish and a trip to the cobbler.

Bras cannot.

Sure, in theory, they're not something a casual viewer will spot, but a good bra is as essential as breathing.

Bras, unlike shoes, have the power to make you look a good ten pounds lighter (and perhaps even ten years younger) just by getting a proper fit.

Bras can prevent back pain.

Bras can get you free drinks.

Bras can, in a pinch, lead to world peace, harmony, and cold fusion.

In short, go bra! Choose bra!

Polter-Cow, in Firefly, talking about a specific moment watching the feature Film Serenity in a theater:

about thirteen thousand gasps, followed by a "SHIT!" in the back

I almost wanted to laugh, but my heart was beating too rapidly for things to be funny.

Context? Bite me.

Kristen : I really didn't intend for this conversation to go in the direction of my ass.

Windsparrow, in Bitches, "helps" PC with his continuing troubles with his mother:

P-C, if this were a sit-com, we would be contractually obligated to tell you to lie to your mother, to create an imaginary girl-friend. Not sure which would be funnier: a fictional girl-friend who fits within your mother's specifications for your apropriate mate (other than that she didn't pick the girl out herself); or, a fictional girlfriend diametrically opposed to your mother's dreams - say, an albino slut-bomb from New Jersey. Also, there is the challenge of finding someone to pretend to be your girlfriend when your parents visit. Hopefully this will be someone you actually like, because you would then be contractually obligated to fall for this girl, forcing you to give an impassioned speach about being allowed to love whomever you choose.