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Trigun Coming to Cartoon Network
MoeMoe writes "Well I was just watching Cartoon Network and it looks like Trigun will begin airing in just a couple of weeks. The CN website gives a brief description here" Trigun is among my favorite anime series. It gets a little crazy by the end, but for the most part it's pretty lighthearted fun, with some great action. CN sure seems to love the Anime Sci Fi Westerns. I wonder if they'll carry some of the fluffier stuff besides Tenchi. Love Hina would be a fun choice. Or Excel Saga.
HENTAI is for PEDOPHILES.
I repeat
ONLY PEDOPHILES watch ANIME
thank you.
Jesus christ. Nobody wants to hear about your fucking pumpkin-headed screamers. Enough already.
Bowie J. Poag
Erm, hate to tell you, but these shows were all originally targetted at children ;)
I talked with Obi-Wan tonight, as the fires were dying and the celebration waned. My teacher spoke wisely, and my resolve was strengthened before it could be tested. Before Han left me in the darkness, lips lingering over mine, comforting me for the loss of something I never really had. Too many times I've rushed ahead without a thought for the consequences. Even when warned by those wiser and stronger, I thought I knew best. Headstrong, Master Yoda called me. Reckless. I'm done with all that now. It would be easy for me to set my destiny aside and give up on living the life of a Jedi. I saw myself on that other path tonight, when Han was next to me, his passion cutting through my soul, every thrust a plea for a different kind of future. I once dreamed of being at his side, free among the stars, chasing the temporary, discovering the moment. Reality led to the crisp edges of disaster, where cost outweighed romantic illusion, and dreams shattered into obligations. I've been fighting for this very moment to come, the moment when all of us would be free to make our choices. Leia will choose the one thing she was born to do - she will lead the new Republic which will rise from the tatters of this small rebellion. Han... I don't know what path he'll choose. Perhaps he would have stayed, if he'd been given a reason. Now I dread his departure. I half expect to find him gone when this night is over. I wonder what he'll say to Leia, what she'll feel, but I haven't the strength to think that far ahead. I strayed away from the joy, still too close to darkness to celebrate this day. I defeated my father, saved him, lost him, and the sharpness is no less severe because of the evil he embodied as Vader. When I stood by his pyre, watching his body consumed by the flames, I wondered who he'd been before he was this corpse, this thing to be sacrificed for the greater good. I rejoiced to see my friends alive... my sister... but I could not draw myself away from the inevitable. I called to Obi-Wan as Yoda taught me, and he was there, more in my mind than the shifting icy apparition he's been in the past. I resisted the urge to ask the same nagging question - *what are you now?* -- and focused on the issue of training, of talent, of what could be done now that there is no one to direct me in the ways of the Force. Ben was clear on many points, but he held firm to one thing in particular. I am chosen to lead the way for generations of new Jedi, to find and train them. If I abandon this task, others may be identified and turned to the Dark Side. I'm not sure I'm as ready as Obi-Wan seems to think I am. I'm crushed underneath the expectations of an entire galaxy. It's too much. I can't allow Han to pay the potential price of my selfish need. And I can't afford the distraction, and the consequences, love brings. The taint of my father's deeds is a painful legacy, and redemption must be a task I undertake alone. As a matter of course, Han came looking for me. I knew he would, knew he was coming for me before he exhaled the breath that brought him to his feet and down the bridge. I've always known what he feels for me, even when he wasn't fully conscious of it, even when he was trying to pawn those feelings off on Leia. I'm not the innocent I once was. That boy disappeared a piece at a time in the hangars of Hoth, the swamps of Dagobah, the thin air of Bespin, the flames of the pyre. "What's going on?" he asked me, that half-crooked grin lighting his face. "I've had some thinking to do," I answered him truthfully, feeling the warmth of that friendly grin in places it shouldn't be. "You're missing the party." Funny how sometimes with Han, what he doesn't say echoes louder in my mind than what he does. /I missed you./
"Sorry, Han." I meant the apology, but I don't think he understood. "It's not over, you know."
"I know, Luke, but at least forget it for tonight, wouldja? Come on back to the party with me." He extended an arm, ready to drape it around my shoulders, but dropped his hand to his hip when I didn't move. Exasperation cro
Sixty years ago,I worked in what was once my Grandfather's Greenhouses. Gramps had died a year earlier and Grandma, now in her seventies had been forced to sell to the competition. I got a job with the new owners and mostly worked the range by myself. That summer, they hired a man to help me get the benches ready for the fall planting.
Ike always looked like he was three days from a shave and his whiskers were dirty white, shaded by the brim of his battered felt fedora.
He did not chew tobacco but the corners of his mouth turned down in a way that, at any moment, I expected a trickle of thin, brown juice to creep down his chin. His bushy, brown eyebrows shaded pale, gray eyes.
Old Ike, he extended his hand, lifted his leg like a dog about to mark a bush and let go the loudest fart I ever heard. The old man winked at me, "Ike Thomas is the name and playing pecker's my game."
I thought he said, "Checkers." I was nineteen, green as grass. I said, "I was never much good at that game."
"Now me," said Ike, "I just love jumping men . . ."
"I'll bet you do."
". . . and grabbing on to their peckers," said Ike.
"I though we were talking about . . ."
"You like jumping old men's peckers?"
I shook my head.
"I reckon we'll have to remedy that." Ike lifted his right leg and let go another tremendous fart. "He said, "We best be getting to work."
That summer of 1941 was a more innocent time. I learned most of the sex I knew from those little eight pager cartoon booklets of comic-page characters going at it. Young men read them in the privacy of an outside john, played with themselves, by themselves and didn't brag about it. Sometimes, we got off with a trusted friend and helped each other out.
Under the greenhouse glass, the temperature some times climbed over the hundred degree mark. I had worked stripped to the waist since April and was as brown as a berry. On only his second day on the job and in the middle of August, Ike wore old fashioned overalls. Those and socks in his high-top work shoes was every stitch he wore. When he bent forward, the bib front billowed out and I could see the white curly hairs on his chest and belly.
"Me? I just love to eat pussy!" Ike licked his lips from corner to corner then sticking his tongue out far enough that the tip could touch the end of his nose. He said, A man's not a man till he knows first hand, the flavor of a lady's pussy."
"People do that?"
He winked. "Of course the taste of a hard cock ain't to be sneezed at neither. Now you answer me, yes or no. Does a man's cock taste salty or not?"
"I never . . ."
"Well, old Ike's willing to let you find out."
"No way."
"Just teasing," said Ike. "But don't give me no sass or I'll show you my ass." He winked. "Might show it to you anyway, if you was to ask."
"Why would I do that?"
"Curiosity, maybe. I'm guessing you never had a good piece of man ass."
"I'm no queer."
"Now don't be getting judgmental. Enjoying what's at hand ain't being queer. It's taking pleasure where you find it with anybody willing." Ike slipped a hand into the side slit of his overalls and I could tell he was fondling and straightening out his cock. "Now I admit I got me a hole that satisfied a few guys."
I swallowed, hard.
Ike winked. "Care to be asshole buddies?"
***
We worked steadily until noon. Ike drew a worn pocket watch from the bib pocket of his loose overalls and croaked, "Bean time. But first its time to reel out our limber hoses and make with the golden arches before lunch."
I followed Ike to the end of the greenhouse where he stopped at the outside wall of the potting shed. He opened his fly, fished inside, and finger-hooked a soft white penis with a pouting foreskin puckered half an inch past the hidden head.
"Yes sir,"
I talked with Obi-Wan tonight, as the fires were dying and the celebration waned. My teacher spoke wisely, and my resolve was strengthened before it could be tested. Before Han left me in the darkness, lips lingering over mine, comforting me for the loss of something I never really had. Too many times I've rushed ahead without a thought for the consequences. Even when warned by those wiser and stronger, I thought I knew best. Headstrong, Master Yoda called me. Reckless. I'm done with all that now. It would be easy for me to set my destiny aside and give up on living the life of a Jedi. I saw myself on that other path tonight, when Han was next to me, his passion cutting through my soul, every thrust a plea for a different kind of future. I once dreamed of being at his side, free among the stars, chasing the temporary, discovering the moment. Reality led to the crisp edges of disaster, where cost outweighed romantic illusion, and dreams shattered into obligations. I've been fighting for this very moment to come, the moment when all of us would be free to make our choices. Leia will choose the one thing she was born to do - she will lead the new Republic which will rise from the tatters of this small rebellion. Han... I don't know what path he'll choose. Perhaps he would have stayed, if he'd been given a reason. Now I dread his departure. I half expect to find him gone when this night is over. I wonder what he'll say to Leia, what she'll feel, but I haven't the strength to think that far ahead. I strayed away from the joy, still too close to darkness to celebrate this day. I defeated my father, saved him, lost him, and the sharpness is no less severe because of the evil he embodied as Vader. When I stood by his pyre, watching his body consumed by the flames, I wondered who he'd been before he was this corpse, this thing to be sacrificed for the greater good. I rejoiced to see my friends alive... my sister... but I could not draw myself away from the inevitable. I called to Obi-Wan as Yoda taught me, and he was there, more in my mind than the shifting icy apparition he's been in the past. I resisted the urge to ask the same nagging question - *what are you now?* -- and focused on the issue of training, of talent, of what could be done now that there is no one to direct me in the ways of the Force. Ben was clear on many points, but he held firm to one thing in particular. I am chosen to lead the way for generations of new Jedi, to find and train them. If I abandon this task, others may be identified and turned to the Dark Side. I'm not sure I'm as ready as Obi-Wan seems to think I am. I'm crushed underneath the expectations of an entire galaxy. It's too much. I can't allow Han to pay the potential price of my selfish need. And I can't afford the distraction, and the consequences, love brings. The taint of my father's deeds is a painful legacy, and redemption must be a task I undertake alone. As a matter of course, Han came looking for me. I knew he would, knew he was coming for me before he exhaled the breath that brought him to his feet and down the bridge. I've always known what he feels for me, even when he wasn't fully conscious of it, even when he was trying to pawn those feelings off on Leia. I'm not the innocent I once was. That boy disappeared a piece at a time in the hangars of Hoth, the swamps of Dagobah, the thin air of Bespin, the flames of the pyre. "What's going on?" he asked me, that half-crooked grin lighting his face. "I've had some thinking to do," I answered him truthfully, feeling the warmth of that friendly grin in places it shouldn't be. "You're missing the party." Funny how sometimes with Han, what he doesn't say echoes louder in my mind than what he does. /I missed you./
"Sorry, Han." I meant the apology, but I don't think he understood. "It's not over, you know."
"I know, Luke, but at least forget it for tonight, wouldja? Come on back to the party with me." He extended an arm, ready to drape it around my shoulders, but dropped his hand to his hip when I didn't move. Exasperation cro
I dont mind trigun that much although there are at least 10 series at are staggeringly better. What I hate is now that cmdrTaco recommended excel saga (which is utter crap) a bunch of people are going to think highly of it.