>> ^quantumushroom:
Why stop with "free" health care? Doesn't everyone deserves a free home, food and automobile (plus for kicks a high-paying job that pays the same whether you're a brain surgeon or sweep floors)?
This communism sh t has been tried. Doesn't work. People want private property and individual rights, and the profit motive is what makes the system work for saint and sinner alike.
Medicare fraud already costs the US 60 billion a year and no one's doing a goddamned thing about it.
Government has no interest or incentive to keep costs down. It can't be fired in a timely manner and the bureaucrats can't ever be fired, they're not going to give a rat's ass when they're the only game in town (the Govopoly).
Maybe someone should crack a history book instead of heeding the "wisdom" of Leibowitz's jerkoff joke-writing team when it comes to mattes of literal life and death.


Your post suggests that the American system is working. I'd say give it 30, 40 years, and the problems you had to face in '09 will look like happy times, compared to allowing business as usual to complete it's vicious cycle, and topple the American regime. Your rhetoric will be reminiscent of grampa and his wild, rambling stories about the good old days, as the world collectively wheels you and your insane ideology to the nut house. or, sorry man, naturally, you're 100% fucking right all the time. what was I thinking to even speak at you in your tower of logic.

>> ^Januari:
Why?... i suspect it's because in your mind they arn't emotionally, mentally, or even physically prepared for what it is they 'want'.


To be honest I couldn't care less about their mental, emotional or physical preparedness to have sex. Post pubescent teens are physically able to procreate, their mental and emotional development has little to do with their physical readiness. Mental and emotional maturity occur at different rates for different people, so it's entirely possible that given the right up bringing a 14 year old could easily be completely prepared to engage in a sexual relationship with anyone of their choosing, just as it is as likely for a 28 year old to have had their mental and emotional upbringing stunted so that they are better able to connect with a juvenile than with other adults. This is why age of consent laws are ridiculous, every argument against an adult/teen relationship can be shifted to a mature adult/immature adult relationship, negative relationships are harmful and damaging, while positive relationships are beneficial, regardless of the ages of the parties involved.

My objection to teens having sex is because at that age they're not yet responsible for their own lives. Their parents are. It's out of respect for their parents that I don't think they should be having sex. You're a teen, you have sex with another teen, a pregnancy occurs, who's going to be taking care of that baby? Grandma and Grampa, that's who or worse your neighbors taxes. My view is that until you're fully capable of taking care of yourself and a child with no assistance from family or the state, you shouldn't be breeding. That goes for adults as well.

I want to support the guy, but then I remember that he thinks I'm just a stupid pot head so I figure why bother.

Yes, it's better that he's in office rather than Grampa and Jiggles.

Yes, he's trying to fix the clusterfuck economy that QM's heroes managed to thrust upon us just as they were leaving office.

Yes, most of that fixing involves money being spent making sure that rich people stay rich and that the assholes who got us into this mess are not going to suffer very much for their troubles. In fact, most of the assholes who got us into this mess are right where they were when they made the mess to begin with.

Yes, nobody will be happier to see him fail than those good old All American conservative Republicans who think we all need another terrorist attack or another great depression with food lines and homeless people living in their cars.

Do I like the guy? Yes, sort of.

Do I think he's doing a good job? Yes, mostly.

Do I think that he turned his back on me and millions of others like me for political expedience?

Yes, I do. And I'm not going to fucking forget it.

People die, it sucks. If someone like MJ dies and you cry, it's gonna be hell for you when a family member dies.

I think it's remarkable how much a celebrity death brings out the crazies of the woodwork. I'm not talking about you guys here, though, I mean the people they interview for "reactions" on regular media:

"He was the greatest man who ever lived"
"I loved him SO MUCH"
yadda yadda

He's a man, he's not your family, he is not his art, he is a man. You don't love him, you love his music, which is not dead.

It's OK to feel sad when someone who had an impact on you has died - I certainly felt bad when George Carlin died, for instance - but he's not my grampa - I'm not going to be grief-stricken and pull out my hair because I can't live in a world without him. That's insane.

i especially like to watch grampas porn while jerking off with my cousins.

but not rush, we dont let him touch himself because we hate him. we make him give us all head while we tie his hands behind his back.

In reply to this comment by thinker247:
where the fuck do you keep your favorite cousin?

In the basement next to the blue human-sized drums and Grandpa's 70s film reels of depraved child pornography. Duh.

In reply to this comment by peggedbea:
well, yeah, we are cousins you know.

where the fuck do you keep your favorite cousin?
shit

In reply to this comment by thinker247:
You have Rush Limbaugh in your pants? Gross.

In reply to this comment by peggedbea:
^ everyone knows i have the biggest dick on the sift. no contest.

Tags for this video have been changed from 'simpsons, bart, grampa, grandpa' to 'simpsons, bart, grampa, grandpa, dentures' - edited by SlipperyPete

My grandpa was a flight mechanic over the Pacific, and had to jump more than a few times. 18 years old.

"What was it like Grampa?"
'Well.... Its worse at night. On a moonless night you don't know when you'll hit the ocean, don't know where the other men are, don't know much. Just hit the water and hope someone finds you the next day.' (paraphrasing)

>> ^rougy:
Oh, what rot.
Poor McCain. Just can't get a break. Let's all feel sorry for grampa because the young black guy from Harvard is mopping the floor with him.
I'm glad you're turned off.
We don't need you anyway.
Go hang out with grampa - if you can afford to.

That's a well formulated debate. Thank you for your input, I am more enlightened having read it. This is not, by any means, the type of shitslinging I was referring too...

>> ^rougy:
Oh, what rot.
Poor McCain. Just can't get a break. Let's all feel sorry for grampa because the young black guy from Harvard is mopping the floor with him.
I'm glad you're turned off.
We don't need you anyway.
Go hang out with grampa - if you can afford to.


You prefaced the remainder of your comment quite well with those first 3 words.

Oh, what rot.

Poor McCain. Just can't get a break. Let's all feel sorry for grampa because the young black guy from Harvard is mopping the floor with him.

I'm glad you're turned off.

We don't need you anyway.

Go hang out with grampa - if you can afford to.

Compelling. Any time you see something shady happening in the world, you can bet the CFR isn't far removed from it.

That said, thanks to the abysmal restrictions of our two-party political system here in America, those of us who do not want to see an extension of the Bush administration are left with no choice but to support Obama.

I really don't think he's going to change a whole lot, but I think he'll veer the country into a slightly less disastrous course than Grampa would choose, since we know that the Republican party exists for only one reason: to make rich people richer.

Sounds like he's spoiling for a fight. I hope he tears Grampa John a new a-hole in the debates. I wanna see Cassius Clay pummelling Sonny Liston.

If you want lessons in childishness, always look to the republicons.

Their air pressure guage is just like their bandaid with a purple heart on it.

Really funny. How clever. Ha ha.

"Wow, #894 out of 899... how the hell can someone so stupid become a pilot?"

His Daddy and Grampa were admirals.

"The leader of the free world doesn't need to be in the top of his class, but being above the bottom .5% would be nice"

Hey you're being totally unfair. He wasn't in the bottom .5% at all! He was in the bottom .56% a whole .06% higher than you had him pegged. Clearly bottom .5% is unqualified for the top post in the land, but bottom .56%?

Let's just call it a slippery slope and call it a day.

"Spit into your hankie from now on, grampa, or else we'll have you ruined during the Cultural Revolution!"

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cultural_revolution#Human_Rights_violations

You are likely to be eaten by a grue.
If this predicament seems particularly cruel,
consider whose fault it could be:
not a torch or a match in your inventory.

It got narrated at you in the second person.
Every time you booted up, it seemed you got another version
of your life told to you by a status line blinking,
the impossible people you could be without thinking
yourself insane of personality problems,
with a mop on a drop ship or trying to stab a goblin.
That don’t play in public life. You get arrested,
psychoactive medication daily in your big intestine
and attesting that the voices in your head
said the dwarf shot first, embedded arrow then you bled.
But doctors with needles posit repeatedly
that you knocked down that midget in the park unneededly.
This has seeded the idea that you should
never venture from the house, never get misunderstood
by the non-player characters inhabiting Earth,
none of whom are too concerned about Nord & Bert,
not one of whom ever aimed a fish around the room,
trying to get it in the ear canal because doom
beset the last planet they were on, or near
the verge of a set of poetics they wouldn’t hear.
Never peered at the clues with invisible ink.
No SM goddesses ever gave them pause to think.
Never piloted six robots, each distinct.
Don’t matter how many 2-liters they drink,
they’re not gonna follow what you’re saying at all.
They impugn and appall in the scope of their gall,
as you hide in your room in disgust with the lights turned out.
Turn ‘em on in a turn. Leave ‘em off for now.

You read a pamphlet from a mailbox that urges low cunning,
offers cursor and prompt: type >run and you’re running,
and parses what you tell it, pronouns intact,
abbreviations if you need ‘em (better keep it gramat.).
Better punctuate your sentences and never redact
the name of anything ambiguous. You’re about to get asked,
do you mean the red one, the round one, the crooked, or the blue?
Better keep that in your pocket, don’t know yet what it could do.
Could be the spray for the grue; you’re gonna need it if it is —
a situation that reloads, restarts, or quits.
Wonder how many points out of how many points
you’ve got to get before you’re done. Endeavor then to rejoice,
when you wish more ardently, identities shed,
for continuance, the rhyme forever voyaging. Fled
from all lights and colors, from all smells and sound:
just the lyric on the monochrome display and you’re proud
to make another verse appear by solving riddles.
If you didn’t have to sleep, you know you’d never seek acquittal.
You’d be ever in the middle and the midst of quest.
If it weren’t for >don the gown. you’d never get dressed.
In your underwear typing, just like Front,
keyboard attached up to my fingers — wrists bear the brunt —
as I seek to do stunts simply through their descriptions.
I think I went once to some sands that were Egyptian.
And I retain plane tickets, snapshots, receipts,
yet I stand unconvinced that this has happened to me.
I wouldn’t want to misremember or get confused.
Recall of crawling towards a pyramid appearing over dunes.
Recall of entering the thing and descending stairs.
Does it descend from there, adventure to nightmare?
Did I battle a snake? Was the treasure intact?
Or did the TRS-80 in my brain get hacked?
Thanks, Grampa, for buying it. Now my life’s ruined.
Twenty-two years later, head’s infested: got the grue in.
PLUGHing, XYZZYfying, trying to escape,
but I can’t ‘cause I’m up and around and awake.