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Department of Troll Control | Another Ignorant Troll

[Dr._Joseph_Warren]

Darn. I wanted to be post #5,000!!!

[King Prout]

Bob, Sir, Sahib,

we are in great need of the Ode to Lung Butter which you so masterfully produced lo a year ago. Oh, indeed, yes, in great need of it we are...

[Tax-chick]

Just the ordinary fluctuations of life ... although it's pretty extreme when I start garbling homophones.

I put Vlad on his stomach on the floor after he ate a little earlier, and he spit up a fair amount of phlegm. (He was on a towel, in anticipation of some expectoration.) Maybe if I do that more often, it will help his digestion. I recall a time when Tom had so much yuck draining into his stomach that he wouldn't eat at all, until we dropped some water down his throat and made him spew.

[Monkey Face]

You'll have to get in line for the next one...Welcome to the Undead Thread! We appropriated the thread from dhls, ZOTted him, paved him and are now RE-paving him. He is SOOOO buried! You're most welcome to join us. We find a new ZOT! every month or 10,000 posts. Or something.

:o]

[Monkey Face]

Morning. I take it you are only slightly among the living today?...

You've been conspicuous by your absence. I hope you feel better, soon! *hugs*

[Alice au Wonderland]

Oh, goody! Hope the expectorating helps. Is he gulping when feeding?

[NicknamedBob]

"Something wicked, yet tasteful and elegant ..."

Wicked, I'm sure, but tasteful and elegant only in comparison with the "Ode to Lung-Butter," which will shortly follow ...


Something Wicked

Something wicked. Let me think,
Maybe I should get a drink,
To enhance creative juices,
As my libido unlooses.

Right! I’m thinking now of something,
I have thought upon before,
That in all my private passions,
I have not been keeping score.

Half-a-dozen dozen virgins,
Seems to be the going rate,
I’m far behind in that regard,
Please hold that trip to Heaven’s gate!

How to catch up for the record?
How to cast my net so wide,
That some scores of comely maidens,
Will be deftly drawn inside...

I’ll need pheromone enhancers,
And cosmetic work as well,
In the past harumph of decades,
‘Fraid my body’s gone to H*ll!

Money seems a great attractor,
I’ll just dangle out some pence.
How much booty do you think I’ll,
Get with only fifty cents?

NicknamedBob . . . . February 20, 2006


And now just compare that with this ...

Ode to Lung-Butter

(-Cough-) Lung-butter, my lament,
I must hope not Heaven-sent.
Hackers all, when this we find,
As evidence of daily grind.

That’s where germs exist, you know,
Not out in the pristine snow,
Or on the beaches, in the Sun,
But where we go to get work done.

Work is a word phlegmatic spat,
But clearly where the germs are at.
We start out healthy, when we rise,
To greet the world with shining eyes,

And then to work we make our way,
To find our “Buddy” there that day,
Who doesn’t wish to waste sick leave,
Not while his nose can find his sleeve.

Bio-weapons may be rare,
But one can find them in the air.
One finds in his proximity,
A walking weapons factory.

So thus it is on our way home,
We find our lungs may seek to roam,
Our head stuffed up like ripened plum,
And where is all that pudding from?

Just put a sign up where you work,
“If you get sick, don’t be a Jerk!
Please keep your butt home in your bed,
You won’t get paid if you end up dead!”

NicknamedBob . . . . November 6, 2004

Ode to Lung-Butter

(-Cough-) Lung-butter, my lament,
I must hope not Heaven-sent.
Hackers all, when this we find,
As evidence of daily grind.

That’s where germs exist, you know,
Not out in the pristine snow,
Or on the beaches, in the Sun,
But where we go to get work done.

Work is a word phlegmatic spat,
But clearly where the germs are at.
We start out healthy, when we rise,
To greet the world with shining eyes,

And then to work we make our way,
To find our “Buddy” there that day,
Who doesn’t wish to waste sick leave,
Not while his nose can find his sleeve.

Bio-weapons may be rare,
But one can find them in the air.
One finds in his proximity,
A walking weapons factory.

So thus it is on our way home,
We find our lungs may seek to roam,
Our head stuffed up like ripened plum,
And where is all that pudding from?

Just put a sign up where you work,
“If you get sick, don’t be a Jerk!
Please keep your butt home in your bed,
You won’t get paid if you end up dead!”

NicknamedBob . . . . November 6, 2004

[Tax-chick]

Well, he stops eating to gasp and snort, because he's having trouble breathing through his nose.

[stephenjohnbanker]

Just fine. Real busy with the Arizona project. I'm gonna miss you by one day, as I will be in Tempe Sun-Tues.

[Tax-chick]

Der Prinz and I watched a movie the other night that was filmed in Arizona. Very pretty scenery.

[stephenjohnbanker]

"I’ll need pheromone enhancers,
And cosmetic work as well,
In the past harumph of decades,
‘Fraid my body’s gone to H*ll!"

R O T F L M A O

[Alice au Wonderland]

Think maybe he's swallowing some air?

[Tax-chick]

Most likely. I wish we could avoid it, but he has to breathe!

[Alice au Wonderland]

Breathing is over-rated.----KODT

[Tax-chick]

In my experience, it's preferable to the alternative.

[Monkey Face]

Ohrats....well. We'll meet up one day, I'm sure.

I'm glad you are busy with that project. It means it is going well. (I think.)

[Alice au Wonderland]

Signing off for lunch...may be back later.

Have a great rest of your day!

[Monkey Face]

One of the things I really like about Arizona is that it has a little of everything for everyone.

[Tax-chick]

It seems to!

Well, I'm headed for nap. I hope Vlad is feeling snoozy, too!

[Monkey Face]

Rest well, TC.
Later.