A nice evening at her place, I thought as we got out of the car. Good wine, a wonderful sex goddess, and a good dinner lying happily in my stomach. What else could a man ask for? "To fuck like crazed weasels!", I muttered as I watched Jennifer slink up the walkway, with her one flawless leg catching in the light from the street light. "What's that, dear?" she said, pivoting to look at me. A flash of white skin caught the dim yellow light where the stump I'd been thinking about through dinner was. "Nothing, I was just muttering to myself. They tell me the insanity isn't anything to worry about unless I start st-st-stu-stuttering."
Her infectious laugh filled the still air as we went into her apartment. I walked in and took off my shoes and watched as she placed a crutch tip on either side of her red pump and lifted her right foot out in one fluid motion. She was worth another hungry look in the room light. That oft-admired bare leg was perfect right down to the way the toes curved. Her hips and backside were pushing against her tight death-by-red dress. A bit further up, her full breasts were pressing hard against the fabric, with firm little points crying out to be touched. Her pretty hands flexed around the grips of the aluminum crutches that helped her look so athletic.
Her eyes sparkled above her wide smile when I finally looked up at her pretty face. She turned and hugged me, and said, "Could you pour the wine? There are stem glasses in the cupboard above and to the left of the sink." She then headed to the sofa as I uncorked the bottle and found the supplies I needed.
I thought about her as I made busy in the kitchen. I'd met her how long ago? Was it really only two weeks? From the first time I'd seen her hop past me at the pool, I'd been addicted. That stump, ending just above the knee, had just not been out of my mind since. But nor had her breasts, her earlobes, her very fingers - she was just everywhere! I'd almost jumped her in the Japanese restaurant earlier when, after I gave her right foot a good massage, she slipped said bare foot up above my ankle and started rubbing my leg. Yes, she'd be a dish in any language, and that truncated thigh just made it more exotic.
I handed her the glass of chardonnay I was not taking a sip of, and sat down on her left. "That dinner was pretty nice," I said, "You have good taste." "So do you; where did you find this wine? It's splendid!" "Well, I had a recommendation from a friend who plays wine master, so I can't take credit. But I am feeling particularly smug about inviting you out tonight." "Well, it's about time! I've been waiting almost forever for you to decide you didn't mind dating a gimp," she retorted, poking me in the shoulder. "Heck darlin', that's almost the best part," grabbing her finger and holding on. "Or haven't you been paying attention when I've been staring at you?"
"You stare at everything, that's why I like you. So many guys either think the stump is weird or don't mind in theory but have problems in practice. You like all of me, and it's wonderful." She intertwined her fingers with mine and moved closer. "Do you have plans in the morning?" she breathed.
I said, "Well, I was hoping to be here, you wonderful tart!" and wrapped my arm around her shoulder, pulling her close for a kiss. The kiss that came back was incredible - I thought my zipper would split from the force of my erection. I felt her breast heaving under my hand as I slipped it down the front of her dress; the moan I heard when I touched her nipple proved that she was as horny as I was. As I undid her buttons to free those golden globes, I felt her left hand pull out my shirt and start to explore my back. Then her right hand moved to meet mine as she whispered, "There's one more part that needs attention," and she slid my hand down her body to the tip of her bare stump.
I thought I'd burst right there. Her thigh felt firm and smooth right down to the end, where little undulations indicated where the sutures had gone when the doctors
You may find this useful
on
Eating in Space
·
· Score: -1, Troll
A nice evening at her place, I thought as we got out of the car. Good wine, a wonderful sex goddess, and a good dinner lying happily in my stomach. What else could a man ask for? "To fuck like crazed weasels!", I muttered as I watched Jennifer slink up the walkway, with her one flawless leg catching in the light from the street light. "What's that, dear?" she said, pivoting to look at me. A flash of white skin caught the dim yellow light where the stump I'd been thinking about through dinner was. "Nothing, I was just muttering to myself. They tell me the insanity isn't anything to worry about unless I start st-st-stu-stuttering."
Her infectious laugh filled the still air as we went into her apartment. I walked in and took off my shoes and watched as she placed a crutch tip on either side of her red pump and lifted her right foot out in one fluid motion. She was worth another hungry look in the room light. That oft-admired bare leg was perfect right down to the way the toes curved. Her hips and backside were pushing against her tight death-by-red dress. A bit further up, her full breasts were pressing hard against the fabric, with firm little points crying out to be touched. Her pretty hands flexed around the grips of the aluminum crutches that helped her look so athletic.
Her eyes sparkled above her wide smile when I finally looked up at her pretty face. She turned and hugged me, and said, "Could you pour the wine? There are stem glasses in the cupboard above and to the left of the sink." She then headed to the sofa as I uncorked the bottle and found the supplies I needed.
I thought about her as I made busy in the kitchen. I'd met her how long ago? Was it really only two weeks? From the first time I'd seen her hop past me at the pool, I'd been addicted. That stump, ending just above the knee, had just not been out of my mind since. But nor had her breasts, her earlobes, her very fingers - she was just everywhere! I'd almost jumped her in the Japanese restaurant earlier when, after I gave her right foot a good massage, she slipped said bare foot up above my ankle and started rubbing my leg. Yes, she'd be a dish in any language, and that truncated thigh just made it more exotic.
I handed her the glass of chardonnay I was not taking a sip of, and sat down on her left. "That dinner was pretty nice," I said, "You have good taste." "So do you; where did you find this wine? It's splendid!" "Well, I had a recommendation from a friend who plays wine master, so I can't take credit. But I am feeling particularly smug about inviting you out tonight." "Well, it's about time! I've been waiting almost forever for you to decide you didn't mind dating a gimp," she retorted, poking me in the shoulder. "Heck darlin', that's almost the best part," grabbing her finger and holding on. "Or haven't you been paying attention when I've been staring at you?"
"You stare at everything, that's why I like you. So many guys either think the stump is weird or don't mind in theory but have problems in practice. You like all of me, and it's wonderful." She intertwined her fingers with mine and moved closer. "Do you have plans in the morning?" she breathed.
I said, "Well, I was hoping to be here, you wonderful tart!" and wrapped my arm around her shoulder, pulling her close for a kiss. The kiss that came back was incredible - I thought my zipper would split from the force of my erection. I felt her breast heaving under my hand as I slipped it down the front of her dress; the moan I heard when I touched her nipple proved that she was as horny as I was. As I undid her buttons to free those golden globes, I felt her left hand pull out my shirt and start to explore my back. Then her right hand moved to meet mine as she whispered, "There's one more part that needs attention," and she slid my hand down her body to the tip of her bare stump.
I thought I'd burst right there. Her thigh felt firm and smooth right down to the end, where little undulations indicated where the sutures had gone when the doctors
It was quite a shock to my system to find my sister naked in
the living room. I almost fainted, so quickly did the blood rush
from my head into my dick. For speed of tumescence, naked siblings
are tops.
Of course, my appearance had the opposite effect on her. As her gaze met mine, her hands, which had been between her legs, flew to cover her breasts. Her legs, which had been splayed wide,
snapped shut so hard her knees bounced. And her color, which had
been a sexy red flush, turned a ghostly pale.
What the fuck do you think you're doing?! she yelled. How
dare you stare at me like that? What are you doing home?
How typical. I catch her jacking off naked in the LR and she yells like it's my fault.
Fuck you! I yelled. Stunning repartee, I know, but it somehow leapt easily to mind.
Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you, you pervert! Hey, I'm not the one masturbating here!
Like you never have? she snorted, Little Boy Perfect, never whacks off!
If I didn't, I sure would now.
That left her open-mouthed and staring and (for once) silent. I escaped upstairs, leaving her to try to recover her shredded dignity. Also, I WAS going to jack off!
Minutes later, I was naked on my bed. My shaft jutted skyward, begging for relief. As I stroked my rod, I had my eyes shut tight, recreating in my mind's eye Karen's surprisingly full tits, her golden-hued pubic patch. I imagined her hands, instead of covering her nips, lifting them up, first to me, then to her lips. I could almost feel.... a draft? What the....?!
CLICK-whirrrrrr.
Gotcha!
Karen bounded from the room, now clad in a white terry-cloth robe, a Polaroid camera in one hand, an about-to-be embarrassing
photo in the other.
It took me about 30 seconds to hop into my jeans. Most of that was being careful not to zip up my still-hard rod. Then I stormed down the hall, ready to tear her room apart to find that photo. But as I burst into her room (by now you've probably figured out that our bedroom doors don't lock), Karen was just sitting quietly on her bed.
Okay, bitch, I growled, but stopped short when I saw the strange look on her face. What's wrong?
It's so big, she whispered. Then I noticed she was staring at the photo.
In an uncharacteristic bit of modesty I said, Not SO big. It's only seven inches or so.
But Bobby's is so dinky compared to yours. Bobby was her studly jock boyfriend, though apparently not so studly. Then she
looked up suddenly with a gleam in her eye. Let me see it.
I could say I refused. I could say I turned around and left the house without an incestuous thought. But why lie?
I just unzipped (carefully) and basked in her admiration. Karen slid off the bed onto her knees in front of me.
Closer....
It looks so nice. ...closer...
So big... ...closer...
So...tasty. ...BINGO!!
She inhaled me. My knees buckled from the sudden onslaught
of pleasure and I grabbed the back of her head. She bathed my
shaft right fine, 'throating me in no time. I don't know where
she'd learned to handle it (not from Bobby), but she did me like
a pro. Her frantic tongue whipped the underside of my shaft. Her
tonsils cuddled the head like a pussy. Her nose was buried in my
pubic hair. After 5 brain-numbing minutes, however, she slid back
up onto the bed, opening her robe and cooing You know, I never
came when you interrupted me so rudely.
A thousand pardons, madam, I said, kneeling at her feet and
parting her knees. Allow me to rectify that.
Oh, sweet snatch! I love sucking pussy, even when it's a
little funky and tastes it. But Sis was so nice, clean, juicy and
tasty that I was in Seventh Cunnilingus Heaven. My enthusiasm must
have showed in my tonguing, because soon Karen's heels were
drumming on my back, her head was rolling and her red-tipped
fingers were mashing h
Whether something is open or closed source does not determine whether it is a commodity. And proprietary is the the opposite of commodity.
If something is a commodity it just means it is a homogenous product and can be dealt as such.
Processing power can be increasingly treated as a commodity where a unit of processing power/time can be bought and sold (like the timesharing of a parallel system). But processors themselves are not commodities and can never be unless they are almost the same with a very limited degree of freedom... processors are simply bulk products.
Commodities are such things as Gold, Aluminium, Grain, Timber.
OK, so I posted this earlier, but is equally relevant so here you go:
I thought JL 'forgot' the details. And when she was 'rescued' from her 'captors' by a daring mission by the marines, a bunch of soldiers walked into a hospital at which she was being treated for her injuries by some doctors. Yeah... daring resure.
Now if I were shot in the US Mid-West I would only get such treatment that she received by the hands of the Iraqis if I had enough credit on my credit card.
Please troll in a more creative way, your troll was dull.
Except the human race is not gorwing at an exponential race as income is a factor in population growth. As populations get richer they want/need less children on average and populations fall.
Witness Western Europe is an example of this. Latin America is an example of poorer countries witha high er growth rates. The USA is an example of a country whose establised (higher income) population reduces and is filled by its immigrant population (lower average skills/education thus lower wages) who in turn become a higher income (lower population) group compared to families of more recent imigrants.
India and China have very large populations already but are agriculturally sufficient given moderately efficient logistics and will hopefully increase in income so they do not reach overpopulation.
Parts of Africa regularly famine but have a low population relative to arible land because of political problems affecting food pricing and logistics. Lets hope the AIDS epidemic can be beaten too.
So from this vere elementary introduction we can see:
and on and on and on. It is all a bit circular and deterministic (plus add a stochastic element to each equation). It certainly is not a simple exponential function.
Have you seen the pictures in the Karma Sutra? I think many of them will only be posible in 0Gs, and for the others it eliminates the dodgy ropes (of course other ropes could be kept for pleasure)!!!
I thought JL 'forgot' the details. And when she was 'rescued' from her 'captors' by a daring mission by the marines, a bunch of soldiers walked into a hospital at which she was being treated for her injuries by some doctors.
Now if I were shot in the US Mid-West I would only get such treatment that she received by the hands of the Iraqis if I had enough credit on my credit card.
Please troll in a more creative way, your troll was dull.
I do not understand why this was modded OT as it is an excellent example of kitsch and nihilism. Isn't that what 'The Matrix' was all about, and isn't a spoof of The Matrix an excellent example of kitsch and nihilism that existed in the original 'The MAtrix'... and aren't the poor sequels of 'The Matrix' the ultimate example of kitsch and nihilism?
There was no bi-carb in that article; all that was mentioned was killing/eating them in a blase general context. I recommend read an article before posting it.
Of course bicarb won't make then literally burst into a mass of pigeon flesh and blood but will merely cause them to have massive internal injuries. If every building in Central London were to put some bicarb on the windowsill we'd be a lot better off.
Given your argument is a OR argument "The earth isn't big enough to give everyone the life an average american enjoys"..."killing off the surplus population of the planet (sorry people, we want your food, now die!)"... most of the planet survives on a diet which can give them the diet and material products the average American enjoys (saturated fat is cheap, plentiful and most US manufactured consumption is still domestically made [toys from China make up a pitifully low proportion when compared to GM cars]).
What the entire planet cannot afford for very long is the amount of pollution the US produces. The US creates around 1/4 of atmospheric pollution the world produces yet has only around 6%$ of the population.
So yes they can have the lifestyle if it were not the pollution that would prevent ANY further generations from enjoying it. The United States of America subsidises its lifestyle by polluting the lives of all others around the world.
I was at UEA for an open day about 6 years ago. Decided to go to Imperial instead and am getting GBP250k/yr (well... last year and long may it continue!).
...so I'm zipping to the top here, appologies for being on a different time zone and wanting my say!
But here is the quote that got my goat:
""From the amount of explosive that Guy Fawkes had we can work out that if you were a third of a mile away you should have been okay with just a few broken windows around you. Further away and you might have just heard some noise," he said."
It has always been though had Guy Fawkes been successful the Houses of Parliament and Palace off Westminster would have been destroyed. But a third of a mile?! So then Guy Fawkes would have blown up the Houses of Parliament and Palace of Westminster as planned, and this research reveals he would also have blown up a small area of Pimlico and even smaller area of Vauxhall - both residential areas belonging to the middle classes (note that circa this age the middle class were a small part of society that existed on service jobs for the very very rich upper classes).
1/3 of a mile is about 500 metres. That is not a lot. Compare that extra 500 metres of middle class families to the government of what was the bulk of the developed world. Sure the butterfly can flap its wings, but I'd put my money on the nuclear explosion less than 500 metres away.
Errr... if your insurance company don't pay for it just move to Canada/India/Africa/S. America where you can get the bootleg version at a reasonable price. Yes it is against IP laws and yes it is not an ideologistic position, but I had cancer I wouldn't care about IP or ideologies, just the best possible treatment.
Apparantly there is some kind of new AIDS treatment coming out of South Africa which uses radiotherapy (?!).
A bit odd and out of the blue when I heard it... don't know how successful it it (nor can I find a link for it). Robin Griffiths (a senior bod at HSBC) mentioned it, which agai it a bit odd since he is a financier (although an incredibly well respected and influention person in the world of finance). But thought I'd mention it, so there you go!
I agree, but of course this does not mean giving it to all cancer patients [suffering the types of cancer this appears to combat] because not all cancer is terminal (i.e., there are existing treatments which do have good success rates for some cancers in some situations).
The great thing about Google is its brand (people trust it etc). Only too often old-world ideas like brand and loyalty are forgotten in 'tech-business'... a brand is a great thing, yes it can be lost but its initial value is great and needn't be lost if cards are played right.
Slashdot Mirror
A nice evening at her place, I thought as we got out of the car. Good wine, a wonderful sex goddess, and a good dinner lying happily in my stomach. What else could a man ask for? "To fuck like crazed weasels!", I muttered as I watched Jennifer slink up the walkway, with her one flawless leg catching in the light from the street light. "What's that, dear?" she said, pivoting to look at me. A flash of white skin caught the dim yellow light where the stump I'd been thinking about through dinner was. "Nothing, I was just muttering to myself. They tell me the insanity isn't anything to worry about unless I start st-st-stu-stuttering."
Her infectious laugh filled the still air as we went into her apartment. I walked in and took off my shoes and watched as she placed a crutch tip on either side of her red pump and lifted her right foot out in one fluid motion. She was worth another hungry look in the room light. That oft-admired bare leg was perfect right down to the way the toes curved. Her hips and backside were pushing against her tight death-by-red dress. A bit further up, her full breasts were pressing hard against the fabric, with firm little points crying out to be touched. Her pretty hands flexed around the grips of the aluminum crutches that helped her look so athletic.
Her eyes sparkled above her wide smile when I finally looked up at her pretty face. She turned and hugged me, and said, "Could you pour the wine? There are stem glasses in the cupboard above and to the left of the sink." She then headed to the sofa as I uncorked the bottle and found the supplies I needed.
I thought about her as I made busy in the kitchen. I'd met her how long ago? Was it really only two weeks? From the first time I'd seen her hop past me at the pool, I'd been addicted. That stump, ending just above the knee, had just not been out of my mind since. But nor had her breasts, her earlobes, her very fingers - she was just everywhere! I'd almost jumped her in the Japanese restaurant earlier when, after I gave her right foot a good massage, she slipped said bare foot up above my ankle and started rubbing my leg. Yes, she'd be a dish in any language, and that truncated thigh just made it more exotic.
I handed her the glass of chardonnay I was not taking a sip of, and sat down on her left. "That dinner was pretty nice," I said, "You have good taste." "So do you; where did you find this wine? It's splendid!" "Well, I had a recommendation from a friend who plays wine master, so I can't take credit. But I am feeling particularly smug about inviting you out tonight." "Well, it's about time! I've been waiting almost forever for
you to decide you didn't mind dating a gimp," she retorted, poking me in the shoulder. "Heck darlin', that's almost the best part," grabbing her finger and holding on. "Or haven't you been paying attention when I've been staring at you?"
"You stare at everything, that's why I like you. So many guys either think the stump is weird or don't mind in theory but have problems in practice. You like all of me, and it's wonderful." She intertwined her fingers with mine and moved closer. "Do you have plans in the morning?" she breathed.
I said, "Well, I was hoping to be here, you wonderful tart!" and wrapped my arm around her shoulder, pulling her close for a kiss. The kiss that came back was incredible - I thought my zipper would split from the force of my erection. I felt her breast heaving under my hand as I slipped it down the front of her dress; the moan I heard when I touched her nipple proved that she was as horny as I was. As I undid her buttons to free those golden globes, I felt her left hand pull out my shirt and start to explore my back. Then her right hand moved to meet mine as she whispered, "There's one more part that needs attention," and she slid my hand down her body to the tip of her bare stump.
I thought I'd burst right there. Her thigh felt firm and smooth right down to the end, where little undulations indicated where the sutures had gone when the doctors
A nice evening at her place, I thought as we got out of the car. Good wine, a wonderful sex goddess, and a good dinner lying happily in my stomach. What else could a man ask for? "To fuck like crazed weasels!", I muttered as I watched Jennifer slink up the walkway, with her one flawless leg catching in the light from the street light. "What's that, dear?" she said, pivoting to look at me. A flash of white skin caught the dim yellow light where the stump I'd been thinking about through dinner was. "Nothing, I was just muttering to myself. They tell me the insanity isn't anything to worry about unless I start st-st-stu-stuttering."
Her infectious laugh filled the still air as we went into her apartment. I walked in and took off my shoes and watched as she placed a crutch tip on either side of her red pump and lifted her right foot out in one fluid motion. She was worth another hungry look in the room light. That oft-admired bare leg was perfect right down to the way the toes curved. Her hips and backside were pushing against her tight death-by-red dress. A bit further up, her full breasts were pressing hard against the fabric, with firm little points crying out to be touched. Her pretty hands flexed around the grips of the aluminum crutches that helped her look so athletic.
Her eyes sparkled above her wide smile when I finally looked up at her pretty face. She turned and hugged me, and said, "Could you pour the wine? There are stem glasses in the cupboard above and to the left of the sink." She then headed to the sofa as I uncorked the bottle and found the supplies I needed.
I thought about her as I made busy in the kitchen. I'd met her how long ago? Was it really only two weeks? From the first time I'd seen her hop past me at the pool, I'd been addicted. That stump, ending just above the knee, had just not been out of my mind since. But nor had her breasts, her earlobes, her very fingers - she was just everywhere! I'd almost jumped her in the Japanese restaurant earlier when, after I gave her right foot a good massage, she slipped said bare foot up above my ankle and started rubbing my leg. Yes, she'd be a dish in any language, and that truncated thigh just made it more exotic.
I handed her the glass of chardonnay I was not taking a sip of, and sat down on her left. "That dinner was pretty nice," I said, "You have good taste." "So do you; where did you find this wine? It's splendid!" "Well, I had a recommendation from a friend who plays wine master, so I can't take credit. But I am feeling particularly smug about inviting you out tonight." "Well, it's about time! I've been waiting almost forever for
you to decide you didn't mind dating a gimp," she retorted, poking me in the shoulder. "Heck darlin', that's almost the best part," grabbing her finger and holding on. "Or haven't you been paying attention when I've been staring at you?"
"You stare at everything, that's why I like you. So many guys either think the stump is weird or don't mind in theory but have problems in practice. You like all of me, and it's wonderful." She intertwined her fingers with mine and moved closer. "Do you have plans in the morning?" she breathed.
I said, "Well, I was hoping to be here, you wonderful tart!" and wrapped my arm around her shoulder, pulling her close for a kiss. The kiss that came back was incredible - I thought my zipper would split from the force of my erection. I felt her breast heaving under my hand as I slipped it down the front of her dress; the moan I heard when I touched her nipple proved that she was as horny as I was. As I undid her buttons to free those golden globes, I felt her left hand pull out my shirt and start to explore my back. Then her right hand moved to meet mine as she whispered, "There's one more part that needs attention," and she slid my hand down her body to the tip of her bare stump.
I thought I'd burst right there. Her thigh felt firm and smooth right down to the end, where little undulations indicated where the sutures had gone when the doctors
It was quite a shock to my system to find my sister naked in the living room. I almost fainted, so quickly did the blood rush from my head into my dick. For speed of tumescence, naked siblings are tops. .... a draft? What the....?!
...closer...
...closer...
...BINGO!!
Of course, my appearance had the opposite effect on her. As her gaze met mine, her hands, which had been between her legs, flew to cover her breasts. Her legs, which had been splayed wide, snapped shut so hard her knees bounced. And her color, which had been a sexy red flush, turned a ghostly pale.
What the fuck do you think you're doing?! she yelled. How
dare you stare at me like that? What are you doing home?
How typical. I catch her jacking off naked in the LR and she yells like it's my fault.
Fuck you! I yelled. Stunning repartee, I know, but it somehow leapt easily to mind.
Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you, you pervert!
Hey, I'm not the one masturbating here!
Like you never have? she snorted, Little Boy Perfect, never whacks off!
If I didn't, I sure would now.
That left her open-mouthed and staring and (for once) silent. I escaped upstairs, leaving her to try to recover her shredded dignity. Also, I WAS going to jack off!
Minutes later, I was naked on my bed. My shaft jutted skyward, begging for relief. As I stroked my rod, I had my eyes shut tight, recreating in my mind's eye Karen's surprisingly full tits, her golden-hued pubic patch. I imagined her hands, instead of covering her nips, lifting them up, first to me, then to her lips. I could almost feel
CLICK-whirrrrrr.
Gotcha!
Karen bounded from the room, now clad in a white terry-cloth robe, a Polaroid camera in one hand, an about-to-be embarrassing photo in the other.
It took me about 30 seconds to hop into my jeans. Most of that was being careful not to zip up my still-hard rod. Then I stormed down the hall, ready to tear her room apart to find that photo. But as I burst into her room (by now you've probably figured out that our bedroom doors don't lock), Karen was just sitting quietly on her bed.
Okay, bitch, I growled, but stopped short when I saw the strange look on her face. What's wrong?
It's so big, she whispered. Then I noticed she was staring at the photo.
In an uncharacteristic bit of modesty I said, Not SO big. It's only seven inches or so.
But Bobby's is so dinky compared to yours. Bobby was her studly jock boyfriend, though apparently not so studly. Then she looked up suddenly with a gleam in her eye. Let me see it.
I could say I refused. I could say I turned around and left the house without an incestuous thought.
But why lie?
I just unzipped (carefully) and basked in her admiration. Karen slid off the bed onto her knees in front of me.
Closer....
It looks so nice.
So big...
So...tasty.
She inhaled me. My knees buckled from the sudden onslaught
of pleasure and I grabbed the back of her head. She bathed my
shaft right fine, 'throating me in no time. I don't know where
she'd learned to handle it (not from Bobby), but she did me like
a pro. Her frantic tongue whipped the underside of my shaft. Her
tonsils cuddled the head like a pussy. Her nose was buried in my
pubic hair. After 5 brain-numbing minutes, however, she slid back
up onto the bed, opening her robe and cooing You know, I never
came when you interrupted me so rudely.
A thousand pardons, madam, I said, kneeling at her feet and
parting her knees. Allow me to rectify that.
Oh, sweet snatch! I love sucking pussy, even when it's a
little funky and tastes it. But Sis was so nice, clean, juicy and
tasty that I was in Seventh Cunnilingus Heaven. My enthusiasm must
have showed in my tonguing, because soon Karen's heels were
drumming on my back, her head was rolling and her red-tipped
fingers were mashing h
payed: v. A past tense and a past participle of pay
Source: The American Heritage(R) Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition
It is like rooves and roofs. One word can be spelt in more than one way.
Be a bit more careful when you call someone stupid in public. People in glass houses, and all that jazz...
CORRECTION TYPO!
proprietary is **NOT** the the opposite of commodity.
Thanks
Whether something is open or closed source does not determine whether it is a commodity. And proprietary is the the opposite of commodity.
If something is a commodity it just means it is a homogenous product and can be dealt as such.
Processing power can be increasingly treated as a commodity where a unit of processing power/time can be bought and sold (like the timesharing of a parallel system). But processors themselves are not commodities and can never be unless they are almost the same with a very limited degree of freedom... processors are simply bulk products.
Commodities are such things as Gold, Aluminium, Grain, Timber.
I suppose you are referring to the Alanis Morisette version.
OK, so I posted this earlier, but is equally relevant so here you go:
I thought JL 'forgot' the details. And when she was 'rescued' from her 'captors' by a daring mission by the marines, a bunch of soldiers walked into a hospital at which she was being treated for her injuries by some doctors. Yeah... daring resure.
Now if I were shot in the US Mid-West I would only get such treatment that she received by the hands of the Iraqis if I had enough credit on my credit card.
Please troll in a more creative way, your troll was dull.
Except the human race is not gorwing at an exponential race as income is a factor in population growth. As populations get richer they want/need less children on average and populations fall.
Witness Western Europe is an example of this. Latin America is an example of poorer countries witha high er growth rates. The USA is an example of a country whose establised (higher income) population reduces and is filled by its immigrant population (lower average skills/education thus lower wages) who in turn become a higher income (lower population) group compared to families of more recent imigrants.
India and China have very large populations already but are agriculturally sufficient given moderately efficient logistics and will hopefully increase in income so they do not reach overpopulation.
Parts of Africa regularly famine but have a low population relative to arible land because of political problems affecting food pricing and logistics. Lets hope the AIDS epidemic can be beaten too.
So from this vere elementary introduction we can see:
population(t)=f(population(t-1), income(t-1), logistics(t)...)
income(t)=f(population(t), technology(t), population_skill(t), capital(t))
logistics(t)=f(logistics(t-1), political_stability(t), technology(t), capital(t))
and on and on and on. It is all a bit circular and deterministic (plus add a stochastic element to each equation). It certainly is not a simple exponential function.
Have you seen the pictures in the Karma Sutra? I think many of them will only be posible in 0Gs, and for the others it eliminates the dodgy ropes (of course other ropes could be kept for pleasure)!!!
Are you on drugs, or are you payed to spout crap? Or are you mad?
Not confirming one or more of the above 3 choices reveals you must be plain stupid.
I thought JL 'forgot' the details. And when she was 'rescued' from her 'captors' by a daring mission by the marines, a bunch of soldiers walked into a hospital at which she was being treated for her injuries by some doctors.
Now if I were shot in the US Mid-West I would only get such treatment that she received by the hands of the Iraqis if I had enough credit on my credit card.
Please troll in a more creative way, your troll was dull.
I do not understand why this was modded OT as it is an excellent example of kitsch and nihilism. Isn't that what 'The Matrix' was all about, and isn't a spoof of The Matrix an excellent example of kitsch and nihilism that existed in the original 'The MAtrix'... and aren't the poor sequels of 'The Matrix' the ultimate example of kitsch and nihilism?
There was no bi-carb in that article; all that was mentioned was killing/eating them in a blase general context. I recommend read an article before posting it.
Of course bicarb won't make then literally burst into a mass of pigeon flesh and blood but will merely cause them to have massive internal injuries. If every building in Central London were to put some bicarb on the windowsill we'd be a lot better off.
Given your argument is a OR argument "The earth isn't big enough to give everyone the life an average american enjoys"..."killing off the surplus population of the planet (sorry people, we want your food, now die!)"... most of the planet survives on a diet which can give them the diet and material products the average American enjoys (saturated fat is cheap, plentiful and most US manufactured consumption is still domestically made [toys from China make up a pitifully low proportion when compared to GM cars]).
What the entire planet cannot afford for very long is the amount of pollution the US produces. The US creates around 1/4 of atmospheric pollution the world produces yet has only around 6%$ of the population.
So yes they can have the lifestyle if it were not the pollution that would prevent ANY further generations from enjoying it. The United States of America subsidises its lifestyle by polluting the lives of all others around the world.
This is not +4 informative, this is pedanticism taking to extreme. May the parent be modded down to Karma Whore Hell.
And as log as you are past your fresher year you will call it 'fuck a fresher week'.
I was at UEA for an open day about 6 years ago. Decided to go to Imperial instead and am getting GBP250k/yr (well... last year and long may it continue!).
...so I'm zipping to the top here, appologies for being on a different time zone and wanting my say!
But here is the quote that got my goat:
""From the amount of explosive that Guy Fawkes had we can work out that if you were a third of a mile away you should have been okay with just a few broken windows around you. Further away and you might have just heard some noise," he said."
It has always been though had Guy Fawkes been successful the Houses of Parliament and Palace off Westminster would have been destroyed. But a third of a mile?! So then Guy Fawkes would have blown up the Houses of Parliament and Palace of Westminster as planned, and this research reveals he would also have blown up a small area of Pimlico and even smaller area of Vauxhall - both residential areas belonging to the middle classes (note that circa this age the middle class were a small part of society that existed on service jobs for the very very rich upper classes).
1/3 of a mile is about 500 metres. That is not a lot. Compare that extra 500 metres of middle class families to the government of what was the bulk of the developed world. Sure the butterfly can flap its wings, but I'd put my money on the nuclear explosion less than 500 metres away.
and they feed bicarbonate of soda to the pigeons so the flying rats explode in mid air!
Errr... if your insurance company don't pay for it just move to Canada/India/Africa/S. America where you can get the bootleg version at a reasonable price. Yes it is against IP laws and yes it is not an ideologistic position, but I had cancer I wouldn't care about IP or ideologies, just the best possible treatment.
Apparantly there is some kind of new AIDS treatment coming out of South Africa which uses radiotherapy (?!).
A bit odd and out of the blue when I heard it... don't know how successful it it (nor can I find a link for it). Robin Griffiths (a senior bod at HSBC) mentioned it, which agai it a bit odd since he is a financier (although an incredibly well respected and influention person in the world of finance). But thought I'd mention it, so there you go!
I agree, but of course this does not mean giving it to all cancer patients [suffering the types of cancer this appears to combat] because not all cancer is terminal (i.e., there are existing treatments which do have good success rates for some cancers in some situations).
The great thing about Google is its brand (people trust it etc). Only too often old-world ideas like brand and loyalty are forgotten in 'tech-business'... a brand is a great thing, yes it can be lost but its initial value is great and needn't be lost if cards are played right.
Why not??? It is better than being a homophobe [see poster's history].