Separate names with a comma.
Discussion in 'Battle Scooters' started by R1150GSA, May 16, 2006.
Perhaps a shot in landscape format would change your mind, you huckster.
I'm sorry I've been so long is responding, but I had to take a long ride down to Patuxent Naval Air Station to gain access to their wind tunnel to do some wind testing.
The results there were conclusive, affirmed by a veritable battery of government scientists, clad in white coats and wearing official badges.
"Your scooter sucks ass."
In fact, I have that documented in a 327 page document that I will be happy to mail to anyone that requests a copy.
I contacted the people at Geuniune Motor Works for advice on what to do, and after viewing the photos of the scooter that you have performed a Chinese abortion on, they referred me to this product. They felt you would have more fun with this type of scooter.
Man, she wouldn't be hot even if she was launched into the sun.
I am shocked. SHOCKED! I'm also dismayed. So, in conclusion, I'm shocked and dismayed.
Does your mom know you stole the tips off her walker for your centerstand?
I can't take much more of this!
For the crime of FELONIOUS FESTOONERY with INTENT TO CRIMP
Subject is considered malodorous and fetid and should be approached with extreme caution.
I meditated on this thread last night and it finally came to me.
You're all jealous. And that's OK. Look, we're human beings and prone to such stuff. When we see someone who raises the bar as high as I have it's natural to resent him. We turn inward and see our own failure to achieve. We realize our own shortcomings.
It is only through God's Grace and patience that we can accept our personal failures. Yes, accept them and carry ourselves with a dignity that transcends the urge to lash out at the very person whom we love the most. Me.
May God keep you in his Grace and glory, and may the fairest of fair winds blow over your flyscreens. And, if you don't have a flyscreen for your scooter, may the rendered fat from your head be used to finally, finally, feed the world foie gras.
C'mon, Stella. I smell something in here, and it stinks. Let's away, you and I.
Thanks for popping in Craig. My arms were getting tired from slapping the JC Whitney poster child around.
Since nobody else is around, I'll just tell you:
Get this: the guy sent me Robert Klein's book...and it was used. Can you believe that? A USED BOOK!?
What, he didn't have the nine dollars to buy me a brand new copy unsullied by his stinky eyeballs?
Were a few pages missing? Sears catalogue has been out of print for quite a while, and I'm sure the last issue of Hemming's didn't last very long...
What the hell is THAT?
The Bobby Fischer / Boris Spassky Commemorative edition??
Okay...that there is pretty darned funny.