In article z,
The Stainless Steel Boob Orchestra wrote:

On Mon, 13 Oct 2003 00:52:00 GMT, MiNE 109
wrote:

Please explain the Trump Tower. I feel my verbiage has been crystal
clear on this matter. It's not my fault if you don't possess the
necessary testicles to talk about my wadding properly. So'rry.

This qualifies you for the bitch swapping you sorely deserve from
someone else. Gonads let you down? Circle gets the square.

This is getting tiresome, McElron,ron,ron,-a-,do,ron-ron. Why am I the
only one here whom with cool musical references, you lame *******s?

In a standard measurement of academic prowess, you could inflate you're
score 20% and still not have the rollers to even think of taking me on.
You've got a lot of nerve, Mr. Jones. I want to take you to a gay bar.

Zzzzzz.

Yahtzee!

Is that what you say at the bingo hall? Disgu'sting.

Boggle's the mind.

Do you think that a guy whom my physical stature wouldn't flatten you
like a pancake as soon as I jumped, on you? You wouldn't last three
seconds if we were to dust it up and you don't have the balls to admit
this, please. I'm right as always. I've given you all the right
answers. Lard slices with multiple mushrooms. If you're blackening,
let my speakers talk for themselves. I honestly think you're behaviour
has been despicable in this matter. Your didn't even mentioned the
excellent finish of my speakers and you say I'm a dumb mother****er
and can't hear my way out of a wet paper bag, ain't it cool? Your
vagueness on this has been disgusting. So'rry.

Talk to the horse's mouth. Everyone walks the walk, but when I do it
everyone's up the chute like beach lobsters on Jayne Mansfield.

The Fat Spy or The Wayward Bus? I'm getting tired of wringing
something of consequence out of you're hippocratic wishy-washiness. I
was right on every point, as usual, and you don't even have the
mother****ing balls to admit this, please.

There's only one thing that could mean. How is that living up to the
bylaws of the Victorian Walking Federation?

I'll let you know when I've finished eating this can of shoe polish.
Stick a fork in yourself, you're done.

Hey sport. You connect the dots. You pick up the pieces.

Like I said, you just don't have the brainpower to comprehend the real
issues here. Do you or do you not able whom my speaker admit what I
have said?

I couldn't be clear.

Stick a fork in your piano, this songs o'ver.

Why can't you answer?

Stephen