Replies

"Keep messin' with the Judge, sonny."

I like to provoke attacks from those who mistakenly believe they have power over me...invariably, they come to realize the error of their ways!!

FReegards...MUD

"...they come to realize the error of their ways!!"

Yea well, OKaaa; maybe so.

But then again?
You'd better first settle the lunch bet with sultan. (~which outa be a really great time, sultan; whatwith, all the pissin', moanin' & whinin' you'll have to persevere through in order to collect, you'll think you're with a circa Y2k Dade County 'Rat!)

Then, Mud?
You might as well cut'cher losses & settle the football bet with sultan too while you'rr at it?? In the mood to take your bitter medicine?
(~& sultan? This outing shall prove to be much better than lunch; because, according to the terms as set-forth by the bet?? This limo-driven night on the town at Richmond's finest dining experience?? As far as I can tell, did not include draggggingggg that guy along.)

Afterwards, you may settle-up the bet with me; unless, you're Chapter 13 by that time?
(In which case I'll cyber-dunn yerass.)

Be that as it may...
Please; pay-up ALL your gambling debts before we're subject to having any of our *errors* realized, eh?

I mean after all, Mud.
Your "good name" is most certainly on the line here, boy!!!

...for what it is worth. :o)

"An elderly Italian man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite Italian anisette sprinkle cookies wafting up the stairs. He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort, gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs.
With labored breath, he leaned against the doorframe, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven, for there, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favorite anisette sprinkle cookies.
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted Italian wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?

Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in a rumpled posture. His parched lips parted, the wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his mouth, seemingly bringing him back to life. The aged and withe trembled on its way to a cookie at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife...... "Back off!" she said, "They're for the funeral."

LOL...MUD