Safe Luxury

Is it legal to carry a loaded gun right behind your driver seat in a car if it is in a mini gun vault? I live in California, and I want to buy a mini gun vault so when i go to different cities i can carry my gun right behind my seat in my car. I dont have my CWP. I just want to know if it is legal to carry a gun this way in a car with a gun vault?

Is there anything to get rid of the smell out of my new gun vault? I bought a brand new fireproof gun vault. But it reeks so bad that it is giving me headaches when I open it. It's probably some sort of chemical in the lining. Other than tearing out the lining is there anything I can do to get rid of the strong odor? More than guns are being stored in it and I don't want those items stinking.

What kind of Gun Vault (safe) Does Sgt. Murtaugh have in Lethal Weapon 3? I saw this a long time ago and have tried before to find out with no success. The vault shows up exactly 19 min into the film and has the brand name Stello (assumed fake) on it. It has a keypad entry that automatically drops down the vault door revealing the gun in a holster connected to both the wall and the open door. This is the best handgun safe I have ever seen. Sure the name is probably fake but someone somewhere had to make it.

Where can I find a shop that sells gun safe/vault for a toyota 4runner 2009? I've been searching the internet for a vault to fit in the arm rest of the 4Runner and I can't find anywhere that sells it for the 4Runner 2009. Does anyone know where I can find one?

What Fallout 3 Vaults are fun to explore? What good vaults are their to go to like one that has a special gun or something and What Vaults actually have living people in them other than 101 and i don't mean insane survivors

how do I retrieve my gun from the evidence vault? they were not registered or used in any criminal activity.

What kind of gun would an armed security guard in a bank vault use if he caught a robber? I am writing a movie script and need this detail. I do not know much about guns or security guards at banks.

Found a whole bunch of vintage weapons, what should I do? My friend is a ghost towner, and we were exploring an abandoned mansion when we found a gun vault. It had been opened before. We opened it and found three Thompson "Tommy" Submachine Guns (the ones with the barrel drum magazine and the grip, like in those gangster movies) two WWII era M1 Garand Semiautomatic Rifles and six 1911 Colt 45. pistols. We don't know what to do with them. Any suggestions? We've already checked the serial numbers and had them scanned by forensics, theyre clean.

What is the best paintball gun for $275? I was thinking a Redz ion. It is on sale for $200. I need compressed and a electric hopper. I want a electric gun. So i can get a redz ion, electric hopper, 3000psi air tank, and a 9 vault battery for about $275. should I do that?

Who does custom "secret" gun storage like what was in Mr. and Mrs. Smith? Who does custom "secret" gun storage like what was in The movie "Mr. and Mrs. Smith"? Ive been finding plenty of vaults and even sliding wall safes, but Im looking for something closer to the flip-panel-in-the-wall types. I like to have my weapons secure, but don't think I should give up aesthetics either...no one wants a big 'ol block in their living space! Thanks!

where do i find all of the vaults in fallout 3? can someone give me very detailed directions to find all of the vaults on fallout 3 for ps3 and can someone also help me find all of the rare guns that?

how do i take out my gun in fallout 3? yo i just got the game and i just left the vault but how do i take out my gun?

What would you do if zombies started taking over the world? What would you do? Hide in your house? Run to a bank and hide in their vault? Take residence in a gun shop? Go to a mall?

Where to find weapons in Fallout 3 right after leaving Vault 101? I borrowed F3 from a friend and now I just got out of the Vault and just defused the bomb. But I dont have any weapons other than a pistol and a bb gun >.<. Where should I find/buy new weapons?

What is the name of this crime and the name of the criminal suspects? what type of prison would they go to? three people walk into a Bank Of America and go up to a teller and demand cash and tells the teller that if you don't let us in the vault we'll pull out a pocket gun(which actually they don't have) so they three go to the vault and steal a undisclosed amount of cash and put the cash into a bag they carried with them then run from the bank. the suspects were not armed in this senerio.

machine gun and physics........help needed!!!? A machine gun is used by a movie hero to open a heavy vault door of mass 20 tons. The bullets, 10 grams each, are sprayed at the rate of 50 per second always perpendicular to the door, and at its edge only, located 2 meters from the hinge. Each bullet simply falls to the floor after impact, right under the point of impact. If the door took 10 seconds to open from 0 degrees to 90 degrees, determine the speed of the bullets.

Has anyone heard of titangunvault.com, they have one of the best portable vaults ever made!? You can mount it in your car, boat, RV, house, and almost anywhere you can think of! It will kep your kids safe from your gun!

Did you hear about the lady who robbed a department store with a pricing gun? She said, "Give me all of the money in the vault, or I'm marking down everything in the store."

Where are good places to go in the beginning of fallout 3? I just got fallout 3 and just got out of vault 101 and i am wondering where i should go from there. like which direction is the best to go towards and which way to go to get better guns. i need all the help I can get for that game. All answers are welcomed. Thanks.

Gymnastics and Age help? Hi, I'm writing a mystery novel and I need help. The culprit is a former Olympic-level gymnast and has been out of practice for three years. After shooting the victim she drops the gun and vaults over a fence, would the murderer still be able to do this after three years of not practicing gymnastics?

How do I level up more in Borderlands? I just beat the destroyer, the guardian of the vault. The problem is that I'm only level 35. I want to get to higher levels with better guns. How do i do that? where can i get awesome guns? Where can i level up?

When using a high-torque screw-gun to hang expensive sheet rock? and you are about to drop a 4 x 8 ft piece of sheet rock 20 ft down from your vaulted ceilings to be smashed to bits below, is it better to zip a quick screw through the palm of your hand to save the day, or to just let that 50$ piece of sheet rock fall?? I'm considering picking the screw--- any advice??? Boy---this one died a quick death, huh??

What is the best level to go to vault 112?-Fall out 3? By they way i am main lvl 11 and lvl 70 small guns am i okay to go through with that level? Also what level can you wear power armor i know you go through main mission but what is the standard

Borderlands 2nd player after beating the vault? so i was playing on split screen and my 2nd player had his character completely reset. like his extra gun spaces were gone and both of his alien guns yet all of my equipment was still in tact after the credits. any explanation?

fallout 3 bb gun help? after i left the vault i never had it how do i get one again? i came back to the vault where is my room?

Favorite dumb criminal story? In the early days of ATMs a man held one up at gun point and fired two shots...? into it. Apparently it was one with a recorded message. Two good old boys in the Midwest dragged one off with a chain hooked to the back of their pick-up, thinking no one would notice a large piece of metal creating sparks as they dragged it through town. They admitted to have had just a few beers. One guy brought home a stolen vault and opened it with a blow torch. All the money was incinerated. My favorite story is about a bank robber who cased two banks before deciding to hold up Wells Fargo. He wrote the hold-up note on the deposit slip from the other bank he had just been to. When he showed the cashier he was told that they could not accept hold-up notes written on stationery from other banks. The clerk told him to try the U.S. National Bank instead. The robber said "thanks' and was promptly picked up at the other bank after the clerk had called ahead. Darwin was right.

Does anybody know some Fallout 3 secret weapons/places? The only good weapons I have so far, are the Mesmatron, the Alien Blaster, the Laser Gatling Gun, a Pre-war Magnum (scope included) and the Rock-It-Launcher. The places I found that are secret is, a fake rock that opens up when you press "A", secret room in Vault 6, Super Mutant Territory and a place to hide out in Rivet City. But does anyone know any other secrets to tell me, and where to find them?

Where (or when) in Borderlands will I find rare, high damage guns? I am a level 50 hunter and has finished playthrough 2, but I can't find high damage guns! All my other level 50 friends do but I don't. I don't know what I am doing wrong. Also, it says my plot mission is "Return the Vault key to Tanus", but I already did that. I killed the Destroyer twice and after the second time of killing him I returned to Tanus, so i figured I was done. WHAT DO I DO!?!??!

The Borderlands Vault? ok so I just killed the destroyer and i went back to the journal days girl and have playthrough 2. WHERE IS THE GUNS FROM THE VAULT!!! is that it ? and where can you find a good sniper and revolver as well

Clambered over with jackies in white blouses.? by Carl Sandburg (1916) Guns, Long, steel guns, Pointed from the war ships In the name of the war god. Straight, shining, polished guns, Clambered over with jackies in white blouses, Glory of tan faces, tousled hair, white teeth, Laughing lithe jackies in white blouses, Sitting on the guns singing war songs, war chanties. Shovels, Broad, iron shovels, Scooping out oblong vaults, Loosening turf and leveling sod. I ask you To witness- The shovel is brother to the gun

Out of control police;Traffic cops shown tonight on BBC1? A guy was 'preemptively' attacked by a 50 thousand vault Taser gun which injured him.The copper speaking before the Taser was used said 'the man is so dangerous we can by-pass normal arrest warning and use the Taser to disable him.Ok ,so the man had no warning did nothing wrong and yet he was still shot with this taser.First time used apparently in Humberside.The idiots are the same ones who shot and killed poor Simon Murden some years ago,a harmless schizophrenic shot 6 times whilst sat down holding an ornamental sword.Humberside police are crooks and murderers!http://www.simonmurden.com/

Fallout 3 Vault Boy gamer picture? So I saw a gamer picture where it's the Vault Boy holding the machine gun wearing a pre war hat with a white background. I was wondering where I could get it and where it's at so I can get it. kind of..he's looking down with the machine guns barrel pushing the brim of his hat down a little bit.

Will the Feds ever offer a Cash for Guns scheme like Cash for Clunkers? I work part time selling guns. When I first started a long time ago, I screwed up. I paid $15 for a beat up 22, I think it was a Savage, maybe not. I honestly thought after cleaning and sighting in, it would be a serviceable plinker. It wasn't. The boss was a little mad because he didn't consider it salable. It was locked up for nearly a year in a storage vault. Then they had a gun buy back program. You got $25, even for a bolt action 22. Semi-auto? That meant $50! POS 25 auto pistol, you got $100. We got rid of a Raven Arms MP-25 that way. Probably paid $10 for it. No takers at $50, not even $30, but the government was glad to pay $100 for it! We even recovered a small profit on the 22. Pity they only allowed the turn in of 2 guns per person. I still work for that shop. We have a Marlin 60 from about 1975 that has sat on our racks for a year or so. Was $75. Marked down to $60, then to $50. No takers. It is beat. The funny part is it is technically an "Assault Rifle" as if you have a detachable magazine of 10+ rounds or a fixed magazine of 15+ rounds. This gun and other semi-auto tube fed 22's had typically 17 until the early 1990's. Today the Model 60 has only 14 rounds in a shorter tube simply because the old way technically made it an "assault rifle". What fearsome force of mercenary-terrorists carry a 1980's vintage Marlin 60 into battle? How many live to tell about it? Maybe they want to incapacitate our troops by having them laugh hysterically at their "assault weapons"? Who can understand those dastardly minds. Sheer military genius if you ask me! Anyhow... we will be glad to turn in this evil weapon. We fully expect the reward to be over $100. We have a vault of garbage guns we'd LOVE to unload. Will Uncle Sam be buying soon?

rate this joke....rated R? a masked man goes to a sperm bank gun in hand. He finds the nurse and demands to be taken to the vault. She tries to tell him that there is no money, but he insists on going to the vault. Holding a gun to her head, he makes her take out 3 vials of specimen and orders her to drink them. She begs him not to, but he cocks the gun and orders her too. After she complies, the man removes his mask and she recognizes him as her husband. Confused she asks why? He says, Now that wasn't so f*&^*& hard was it? soccergurl: if you need an explanation, you're too young. just keep sleeping KiddoOoO, if you don't get it, you don't get it. Sorry

Fallout 3 Question - xbox 360 ? How do you equip a weapon (e.g bb gun) after you leave vault 101 and you are in wastelands? Thank you

I have the same nightmare every night? This is the dream: Me and my best friend appear in a bank. Inside a vault. We have guns, assualt rifles, we are loading cash into our bags - everyone in the bank is terrified and is crying blood. We bail out of the bank and cops start shooting at us. Me and my friend are laughing as we drive away (we're too fast for the cops) but we reach a dead end. The dead end is at the top of a cliff, we can see America and we now both have enough money to get there. But my friend BETRAYS me. He grabs the cash and points a gun at me, i slowly walk back but if i walk any further I will fall off about half a kilometer to the rocks below. He says "I know what you did" and shoots me in my foot. I fall backwards and start free falling to the ground. As I'm falling, I see that he is also crying blood, even though Im now a few hundred meters away from him, his face seems close up, undecipherable. I wake up. The reality: I commited bank robbery over a decade ago in Africa so we could pay the guys that were gonna take us to america. He was my best friend but I didn't know anyone else that knew him. As we were getting away in the car, it all suddenly went black (I was found unconscious, hit on the head). I never saw him or the cash again. Went to jail for 4 years. Been having the same dream every night for the last decade. No one believes me. I need help now. Just a note: Parts of the dream change. Such as the viewing angles and the things people wear and also the weather. As in I do bank robbery every day of the week. PLEASE HELP STOP THIS.

Recommendations for Las Vegas? I will be going to Las Vegas in October 29 for four nights. I already have some places that I will be going to. Penn & Teller The gun store Game works Sapphire Red Square Vodka Vault Noir Bar LAX Please recommend some places.

i need help with a poem "Iron" by Carl Sanbdburg? GUNS, Long, steel guns, Pointed from the war ships In the name of the war god. Straight, shining, polished guns, ***Clambered over with jackies in white blouses, Glory of tan faces, tousled hair, white teeth, Laughing lithe jackies in white blouses, Sitting on the guns singing war songs, war chanties.*** Shovels, Broad, iron shovels, Scooping out oblong vaults, Loosening turf and leveling sod. I ask you To witness-- The shovel is brother to the gun. i need help with the few lines between the asterisks. this is a WWI poem btw.

A bank robbery?!? A masked man runs into the sperm bank with a gun, and goes to one of the ladies working there and tells everyone to freeze. The lady tries to explain to the man, "Look...there is no money here. We are a sperm bank and only have sperm in our vaults." The robber looks and sees a cart with containers filled with sperm and says to the lady, "I want you to grab one of the containers and drink the sperm in it or I will shoot you." The woman is scared and complies with his request. The man screams to grab another and drink it down. The lady is so frightened that she does so again. The man insists that she do it one more time, and she does. After this the man takes off his mask and the lady sees that it is her husband. Her husband then yells at her,"See, was that so hard to do!"

Do you like the cut up technique of writing? If you do not know what it is here is a link http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cut-up_technique here is another example i know it is kinda long! It is just an example from my favorite author william s burroughs. Kim has never doubted the possibility of an afterlife or the existence of gods. In fact he intends to become a god, to shoot his way to immortality, to invent his way, to write his way. He has a number of patents: the Carsons spring knife, an extension of the spring blackjack principle; a cartridge in which the case becomes the projectile; an air gun in which air is compressed by a small powder charge; a magnetic gun in which propulsion is effected by compressing a reversed magnetic field. "Whenever you use this bow I will be there," the Zen archery master tells his students. And he means there quite literally. He lives in his students and thus achieves a measure of immortality. And the immortality of a writer is to be taken literally. Whenever anyone reads his words the writer is there. He lives in his readers. So every time someone neatly guts his opponent with my spring knife or slices off two heads with one swipe of my spring sword I am there to drink the blood and smell the fresh entrails as they slop out with a divine squishy sound. I am there when the case bullet tbuds home-right in the stomach ... what a lovely grunt! And my saga will shine in the eyes of adolescents squinting through gunsmoke. Kapow! Kapow! Kapow! Kim considers that immortality is the only goal worth striving for. He knows that it isn't something you just automatically get for believing some nonsense or other like Christianity or Islam. It is something you have to work and fight for, like everything else in this life or another. The most arbitrary, precarious, and bureaucratic immortality blueprint was drafted by the ancient Egyptians. First you had to get yourself mummified, and that was very expensive, making immortality a monopoly of the truly rich. Then your continued immortality in the Western Lands was entirely dependent on the continued existence of your mummy. That is why they had their mummies guarded by demons and hid good. Here is plain G.I. Horns.... He's got enough baraka to survive his first physical death. He won't get far. He's got no mummy, he's got no names, he's got nothing. What happens to a bum like that, a nameless, mummyless asshole? Why, demons will swarm all over him at the first checkpoint. He will be dismembered and thrown into a flaming pit, where his soul will be utterly consumed and destroyed forever. While others, with sound mummies and the right names to drop in the right places, sail through to the Western Lands. There are of course those who just barely squeeze through. Their mummies are not in a good sound condition. These second-class souls are relegated to third-rate transient hotels just beyond the last checkpoint, where they can smell the charnel-house disposal ovens from their skimpy balconies. "You see that sign?" the bartender snarls. MAGGOTTY MUMMIES WILL NOT BE SERVED HERE "Might as well face facts ... mv mummy is going downhill. Cheap job to begin with ... gawd, maggots is crawling all over it ... the way that demon guard sniffed at me this morning. . . Transient hotels ... And here you are in your luxury condo, deep in the Western Lands ... you got no security. Some disgruntled former employee sneaks into your tomb and throws acid on your mummy. Or sloshes gasoline all over it and burns the shit out of it. "OH ... someone is f***ing with my mummy.. .." Mummies are sitting ducks. No matter who you are, what can happen to your mummy is a pharaoh's nightmare: the dreaded mummy bashers and grave robbers, scavengers, floods, volcanoes, earthquakes. Perhaps a mummy's best friend is an Egyptologist: sealed in a glass case, kept at a constant tempera- ture ... but your mummy isn't even safe in a museum. Air-raid sirens, it's the blitz! "For Ra's sake, get us into the vaults," scream the mummies, without a throat, without a tongue. Anybody buy in on a deal like that should have his mummy examined.

Do we really have any right to demand answers about how the bailout funds are being used? http://www.breitbart.com/article.php?id=D95JKCI80&show_article=1&catnum=0 "The new document cited an Associated Press investigation that found none of the banks was willing to disclose what they were doing with hundreds of billions of dollars distributed through direct injections of federal money. "For Treasury to advance funds to these institutions without requiring more transparency further erodes the very confidence Treasury seeks to restore," it said. Appearing Friday on ABC's "Good Morning America," Warren said that Treasury "didn't put any tracking mechanisms on it." "They didn't tell the banks what they had to do in order to get the money. It might be used for lending, it might be used to buy other banks ... Or it might just be stuffed in vaults and left there," she said. "I think that Congress may want to take a very hard look at that question," Warren added. "Ultimately, we don't have a badge, don't have a gun. It's up to Congress." "In my view, the heart of this problem started with the housing bubble and the mortgage foreclosure mess and in my view, that's where the solution should start as well," Warren said. Most of the panel's report argues that better responses to unanswered questions are "essential" and explains why it believes Treasury's earlier responses were insufficient. "Treasury has still not explained precisely what it sees as the problem," reads one assessment of a response deemed inadequate. At several points, the report tartly explains the meanings of simple terms such as "strategy" and "oversight." Referring to a question of why Treasury has required Citigroup, but not other firms that got money, to modify mortgages, the report says: "Treasury's refusal to answer this question is one of the most troubling aspects of their letter. The panel intends to do more fact finding on this matter." Line after line of the column marked "Treasury Response" says simply, "No response." The panel repeatedly states its reluctance to take Treasury's reassurances at face value. "Treasury may be 'confident' that it is 'pursuing the right strategy to stabilize the financial system and support the flow of credit to our economy,' but once again, the function of oversight is to evaluate that claim," the report reads. "The question remains unanswered." The panel's next official action will be a public hearing next Wednesday What do you think? hamper, give any answer you like.

Why Is The Bank So Worried About Their Pen That They Have To Put It On A Chain? You know the pen at the bank? Why is it on that damn chain? It drives me insane! They can leave both vaults open; sure, the MONEY, that's unimportant, but GOD FORBID someone should steal the friggin pen. There's only free ones THREE FEET AWAY! What kind of genius criminal mind walks into a bank, pulls out a gun, and STEALS THE PEN? Correct me if I'm mistaken, but I BELIEVE there are better things to steal in a bank. What's he gonna do, shove it in his trench coat, run outside and dive into a getaway car? What they SHOULD do is tie a bungee cord to it. THEN we'd have a show. Or 500 feet of clear fishing line, so he'd be halfway outta town, smug grin on his face.....thinking crime DOES pay....and WHAM!!! If the pen is the only secure thing in a bank why can't they just hide all the money INSIDE THE PEN?

where is the world heading ? why so many armies and all these weapons? To kill whom? why spend billions to maintain armies and make better weapons and not use that money for projects to improve standards of living world wide ? Instead of weapons why not research on solar power projects , water level rejuvenation ? why not water canals to irrigate 70% of world's wastelands? why is the world divided ? why so many borders ? why don't we all unite to create one world , with all our leaders as regional representatives to world parliament. What will these terrorists fight against then ? what will be the meaning of freedom struggle then ? who will need guns when all will have ample ? What will be need for armies when local security will do just fine ? what good are such learned men of power that decide for our fates as we watch our worlds suffering through their reckless decisions ? How many wars ? for what ? Oil? does it not kill us slowly ? why embrace religions with messages of love and belief in god and goodwill for the poor when we can not even hold hands ...? what stops us from trusting and living a life of sharing and caring for each other ? why do we need money ? why does anyone need more money than is required ? why do we have billions in steel vaults where it lies waste , when the world suffers from hunger ? what is the future of our children ? Will they see trees in museums too ? What is the cost of this madness ? is there a stop ?

Handgun's in the UK for personal use only? Hey, i'm a 17-year old male living in the north-western region of the United Kingdom, i was wondering if in any way it is legal to keep a handgun for personal use... the gun would be store in a high-security vault, ammunition in a separate building altogether. If this is legal, i was also wondering how i could go about this? *Remembering this is for personal use, thus in the eyes of the law probably an unsatisfactory reason to be holding a firearm* Thanks

what do you do in fallout 3 after you leave the vault? i keep wandering around and dyeing and i cant find any good guns

Boondock Saints Fans? I have a few questions about the movie...first off i head there is a second one comming out...true or not??....Secondly...when the brothers take their first gun and empty their pockets in the vault to get more gear there is a paintin gon teh back wall of the whepons room, what does it say above the painting?

question, which would you do? your granny invites you over for tea, you are suprised when she gives you a pistol and asks you to kill another vault dweller. do you A.kill the vault dweller as orderd B.ask for a mechine gun, because you dont want to miss C.throw tea in your grannys face and run

This question concerns a parent being held partially responsible for a crime committed by their minor child? If a minor teenager takes a gun from his parents home that the father had not locked up securely and commits a murder, can the father be held partially responsible for this crime? It seems that the charge cannot be "accessory before the fact" since the father did not know anything about the crime. But most states have a so-called (CAP) law, (a child access prevention law) This law requires adults to use a gun-locking device or store guns in a place that is not readily accessible to minors. See this link: http://www.cnn.com/SPECIALS/1998/schools/gun.control/ The father claims to have hidden the key to his bedroom, where the handgun was kept. But the handgun did not have a trigger-lock and it wasn't in a vault or safe. The minor son knew where the key was; he unlocked the door and took the gun and killed someone. Can the father be held liable, and is it up to the prosecuting attorney to make this decision? Thanks for your help, Joe Conrad

Who agrees that? ....the John Legend cover of "Save Room For My Love" needs to be put away?? *charges up my laser ray gun* ...Or at least put in the vault? My local smooth jazz station is playin' the hell outta it, and I think it's cuz the station has been owned by CLEAR CHANNEL for a few years now... Oh great...there's that darn Lancer commercial on the tv behind me... :[ Yeah the song, I wasn't crazy about it when it first came out. And I thought it was John's but a DJ said it was a remake of an oldies song. Hell, I never HEARD the original. I don't remember hearing the original at all as a girl....

Save Room For My Love? ....the John Legend cover of "Save Room For My Love" needs to be put away?? *charges up my laser ray gun* ...Or at least put in the vault? My local smooth jazz station is playin' the hell outta it, and I think it's cuz the station has been owned by CLEAR CHANNEL for a few years now... Yeah the song, I wasn't crazy about it when it first came out. And I thought it was John's but a DJ said it was a remake of an oldies song. Hell, I never HEARD the original. I don't remember hearing the original at all as a girl.... I like John Legend, of course, just not this joint. ESPECIALLY since this guy butchered it-trying to sing the chorus over and over again. It was bad enuff I didn't care for the song so much.

What do you think of this rap? Pain in my chest and it's throbbing me up Everybody telling me to suck it up Don't tell me what to do Cause "you don't know what the fuck i've been through" Ok...let me first start out with my first pain My dog gets shot and the clouds are starting to rain I go over to my dog and hug it...for the last time This rap has many emotions it's not just for a rhyme And so as i'm hugging my dog tear drops start to fall down That was my first pain now lets do another round Now for my second, My mom got shot and my dad died of cancer Dad smoked, made the whole process faster We didn't even get to have time together Now there's a huge storm coming, man i hate this weather Finally for my last pain This is far by the worst and it's driving me insane Well maybe i am already insane, screw it...let me just tell you the story About a little boy like myself who loved blood and gory My Mom tells me to not worry...about my addiction, she told me everything's gonna be all right Untill that one bloody gruesome night When i woke up and grabbed my pistol from under the bed Cocked the gun and pointed it right at my moms forehead She smiled and said "i believe in you" I was so confused then...i didn't know what to do Then my dad comes up behind me..Hits me with a shovel right at the back of the head I wake up only to find out that my mom and my dog are now dead But then i suddenly hear a noise and thought it was my dad at the front entrance My face goes red and the atmosphere get's all tense I scream at him and tell him that this was all his fault You did the wrong combination to this cursed vault And now i start pointing the gun at this man The guy screams and says i'm just a doctor I have results of your dad's cancer And i'm sorry to tell you but your dad has one day to live My eyes get wide and my brain tells me that i have to give... him this news But i don't know his whereabouts are so that's another person i lose.

do you agree? the virginia tech shooting was an absolute tragedy and i give my condolences to all of the students, friends and family members that lost someone that day. however, precautions should have been taken. my opinion is that is that faculty members should have been armed. long before this incident ever occured, teachers, councelors, ALL staff members should have been strapped with a firearm and should have been put through classes. some might say that that is a bad idea, some angry custodian or principal might have a bad day and go on a shooting spree, but i think one gun should be put in a sealed, locked vault in every room. then if the school is threatened by a shooter, there can be one code for every single vault and they can announce it. i know big schools such as that have intercoms. im 16 and there are only like 450-500 students at my school, and we have one. but any how, tell me what you think. sorry this is so long. love, kenzie

i beat borderlands WTF? ok, so i beat borderlands today, i killed the final boss. and ill i have to say is What the HELL. what am i supposed to do now that i opened the vault and i dont have any awesome guns?

would someone be able to get away with this???? if a person went in to a back handed the teller a paper that read "give me XXX amount of money in the vault and do not alert the police or security etc." the person had no gun and posed no threat physically.... the teller did what the note said and the person left would that be considered stealing???? if they gave it up willingly though is it still considered robbery???

Fallout PC Game Question? in Fallout Post Nuclear War game...my charecter is suffering from critical eye damage, and my perception sucks to aim a gun at anything. How, or What can I use to cure this, I tried going to doctor inside Brotherhood of Steel but he wont do anything. I also ran back and tried inside Vault 13 where I originated from, but nothing there...I can't find any pills, or drugs to get rid of this problem in the game with my charecter?

I need help interpreting a poem.? The poem is called "Those bastards in their mansions" by Simon Armitage. My task is to interpret the poem and write about What the author is trying to say. heres is the poem: Those bastards in their mansions: to hear them shriek, you'd think I'd poisoned the dogs and vaulted the ditches, crossed the lawns in stocking feet and threadbare britches, forced the door of one of the porches, and lifted the gift of fire from the burning torches, thengiven heat and light to streets and houses, told the people how to ditch their cuffs and shackles, armed them with the iron from their wrists and ankles. Those lords and ladies in their palaces and castles, they'd have me sniffed out by their beagles, picked at by their eagles, pinned down, grilled beneath the sun. Me, I stick to the shadows, carry a gun. Ok then "old lady" I think the poem is about a Robin Hood type character thats like really pissed off with rich people so steals fire from them (like that Greek God guy Prometheus) but I don't think he means this literally and thats about it.

fallout 3 important question? what do you do when you exit vault 101 and enter the wasteland where do you go are their any guns around please help

who was the man, and what did he said? A guy walks into a sperm donor bank wearing a ski mask and holding a gun. He goes up to the nurse and demands her to open the sperm bank vault. She says "But sir, its just a sperm bank!", "I don't care, open it now!!!" he replies. So she opens the door to the vault and inside are all the sperm samples. The guy says "Take one of those sperm samples and drink it!", she looks at him "BUT, they are sperm samples???" , "DO IT!". So the nurse sucks it back. "That one there, drink that one as well.", so the nurse drinks that one as well. Finally after 4 samples the man takes off his ski mask and says,

In the "Fall of the House of Usher".......? In the Fall Of The House Of Usher, what had been stored in the vault where they end up entombing Madeline? I hope somebody can help, I need the answer for a worksheet I'm doing for this story. I have been to a couple of websites, (because I cannot find it in the story), and I have seen answers like "gun powder" "nothing" "something" (but it doesn't say what). Hope someone knows the answer, thank you =)

Jews of Iraq? What about them? Of course I thought I knew it all back then. I was young, idealistic, and more than willing to put my life at risk for my convictions. It was 1947 and I wasn't quite 18 when the Iraqi authorities caught me for smuggling young Iraqi Jews like myself out of Iraq, into Iran, and then on to the Promised Land of the soon-to-be established Israel. I was an Iraqi Jew in the Zionist underground. My Iraqi jailers did everything they could to extract the names of my co-conspirators. Fifty years later, pain still throbs in my right toe-a reminder of the day my captors used pliers to remove my toenails. On another occasion, they hauled me to the flat roof of the prison, stripped me bare on a frigid January day, then threw a bucket of cold water over me. I was left there, chained to the railing, for hours. But I never once considered giving them the information they wanted. I was a true believer. My preoccupation during what I refer to as my "two years in hell" was with survival and escape. I had no interest then in the broad sweep of Jewish history in Iraq even though my family had been part of it right from the beginning. We were originally Haroons, a large and important family of the "Babylonian Diaspora." My ancestors had settled in Iraq more than 2,600 years ago-600 years before Christianity, and 1,200 years before Islam. I am descended from Jews who built the tomb of Yehezkel, a Jewish prophet of pre-biblical times. My town, where I was born in 1929, is Hillah, not far from the ancient site of Babylon. The original Jews found Babylon, with its nourishing Tigris and Euphrates rivers, to be truly a land of milk, honey, abundance-and opportunity. Although Jews, like other minorities in what became Iraq, experienced periods of oppression and discrimination depending on the rulers of the period, their general trajectory over two and one-half millennia was upward. Under the late Ottoman rule, for example, Jewish social and religious institutions, schools, and medical facilities flourished without outside interference, and Jews were prominent in government and business. As I sat there in my cell, unaware that a death sentence soon would be handed down against me, I could not have recounted any personal grievances that my family members would have lodged against the government or the Muslim majority. Our family had been treated well and had prospered, first as farmers with some 50,000 acres devoted to rice, dates and Arab horses. Then, with the Ottomans, we bought and purified gold that was shipped to Istanbul and turned into coinage. The Turks were responsible in fact for changing our name to reflect our occupation-we became Khalaschi, meaning "Makers of Pure." I did not volunteer the information to my father that I had joined the Zionist underground. He found out several months before I was arrested when he saw me writing Hebrew and using words and expressions unfamiliar to him. He was even more surprised to learn that, yes, I had decided I would soon move to Israel myself. He was scornful. "You'll come back with your tail between your legs," he predicted. About 125,000 Jews left Iraq for Israel in the late 1940s and into 1952, most because they had been lied to and put into a panic by what I came to learn were Zionist bombs. But my mother and father were among the 6,000 who did not go to Israel. Although physically I never did return to Iraq-that bridge had been burned in any event-my heart has made the journey there many, many times. My father had it right. I was imprisoned at the military camp of Abu-Greib, about 7 miles from Baghdad. When the military court handed down my sentence of death by hanging, I had nothing to lose by attempting the escape I had been planning for many months. It was a strange recipe for an escape: a dab of butter, an orange peel, and some army clothing that I had asked a friend to buy for me at a flea market. I deliberately ate as much bread as I could to put on fat in anticipation of the day I became 18, when they could formally charge me with a crime and attach the 50-pound ball and chain that was standard prisoner issue. Later, after my leg had been shackled, I went on a starvation diet that often left me weak-kneed. The pat of butter was to lubricate my leg in preparation for extricating it from the metal band. The orange peel I surreptitiously stuck into the lock on the night of my planned escape, having studied how it could be placed in such a way as to keep the lock from closing. As the jailers turned to go after locking up, I put on the old army issue that was indistinguishable from what they were wearing-a long, green coat and a stocking cap that I pulled down over much of my face (it was winter). Then I just quietly opened the door and joined the departing group of soldiers as they strode down the hall and outside, and I offered a "good night" to the shift guard as I left. A friend with a car was waiting to speed me away. Later I made my way to the new state of Israel, arriving in May, 1950. My passport had my name in Arabic and English, but the English couldn't capture the "kh" sound, so it was rendered simply as Klaski. At the border, the immigration people applied the English version, which had an Eastern European, Ashkenazi ring to it. In one way, this "mistake" was my key to discovering very soon just how the Israeli caste system worked. They asked me where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do. I was the son of a farmer; I knew all the problems of the farm, so I volunteered to go to Dafnah, a farming kibbutz in the high Galilee. I only lasted a few weeks. The new immigrants were given the worst of everything. The food was the same, but that was the only thing that everyone had in common. For the immigrants, bad cigarettes, even bad toothpaste. Everything. I left. Then, through the Jewish Agency, I was advised to go to al-Majdal (later renamed Ashkelon), an Arab town about 9 miles from Gaza, very close to the Mediterranean. The Israeli government planned to turn it into a farmers' city, so my farm background would be an asset there. When I reported to the Labor Office in al-Majdal, they saw that I could read and write Arabic and Hebrew and they said that I could find a good-paying job with the Military Governor's office. The Arabs were under the authority of these Israeli Military Governors. A clerk handed me a bunch of forms in Arabic and Hebrew. Now it dawned on me. Before Israel could establish its farmers' city, it had to rid al-Majdal of its indigenous Palestinians. The forms were petitions to the United Nations Inspectors asking for transfer out of Israel to Gaza, which was under Egyptian control. I read over the petition. In signing, the Palestinian would be saying that he was of sound mind and body and was making the request for transfer free of pressure or duress. Of course, there was no way that they would leave without being pressured to do so. These families had been there hundreds of years, as farmers, primitive artisans, weavers. The Military Governor prohibited them from pursuing their livelihoods, just penned them up until they lost hope of resuming their normal lives. That's when they signed to leave. I was there and heard their grief. "Our hearts are in pain when we look at the orange trees that we planted with our own hands. Please let us go, let us give water to those trees. God will not be pleased with us if we leave His trees untended." I asked the Military Governor to give them relief, but he said, "No, we want them to leave." I could no longer be part of this oppression and I left. Those Palestinians who didn't sign up for transfers were taken by force-just put in trucks and dumped in Gaza. About four thousand people were driven from al-Majdal in one way or another. The few who remained were collaborators with the Israeli authorities. Subsequently, I wrote letters trying to get a government job elsewhere and I got many immediate responses asking me to come for an interview. Then they would discover that my face didn't match my Polish/Ashkenazi name. They would ask if I spoke Yiddish or Polish, and when I said I didn't, they would ask where I came by a Polish name. Desperate for a good job, I would usually say that I thought my great-grandfather was from Poland. I was advised time and again that "we'll give you a call." Eventually, three to four years after coming to Israel, I changed my name to Giladi, which is close to the code name, Gilad, that I had in the Zionist underground. Klaski wasn't doing me any good anyway, and my Eastern friends were always chiding me about the name they knew didn't go with my origins as an Iraqi Jew. I was disillusioned at what I found in the Promised Land, disillusioned personally, disillusioned at the institutionalized racism, disillusioned at what I was beginning to learn about Zionism's cruelties. The principal interest Israel had in Jews from Islamic countries was as a supply of cheap labor, especially for the farm work that was beneath the urbanized Eastern European Jews. Ben Gurion needed the "Oriental" Jews to farm the thousands of acres of land left by Palestinians who were driven out by Israeli forces in 1948. And I began to find out about the barbaric methods used to rid the fledgling state of as many Palestinians as possible. The world recoils today at the thought of bacteriological warfare, but Israel was probably the first to actually use it in the Middle East. In the 1948 war, Jewish forces would empty Arab villages of their populations, often by threats, sometimes by just gunning down a half-dozen unarmed Arabs as examples to the rest. To make sure the Arabs couldn't return to make a fresh life for themselves in these villages, the Israelis put typhus and dysentery bacteria into the water wells. Uri Mileshtin, an official historian for the Israeli Defense Force, has written and spoken about the use of bacteriological agents. According to Mileshtin, Moshe Dayan, a division commander at the time, gave orders in 1948 to remove Arabs from their villages, bulldoze their homes, and render water wells unusable with typhus and dysentery bacteria. Acre was so situated that it could practically defend itself with one big gun, so the Haganah put bacteria into the spring that fed the town. The spring was called Capri and it ran from the north near a kibbutz. The Haganah put typhus bacteria into the water going to Acre, the people got sick, and the Jewish forces occupied Acre. This worked so well that they sent a Haganah division dressed as Arabs into Gaza, where there were Egyptian forces, and the Egyptians caught them putting two cans of bacteria, typhus and dysentery, into the water supply in wanton disregard of the civilian population. "In war, there is no sentiment," one of the captured Haganah men was quoted as saying. My activism in Israel began shortly after I received a letter from the Socialist/Zionist Party asking me to help with their Arabic newspaper. When I showed up at their offices at Central House in Tel Aviv, I asked around to see just where I should report. I showed the letter to a couple of people there and, without even looking at it, they would motion me away with the words, "Room No. 8." When I saw that they weren't even reading the letter, I inquired of several others. But the response was the same, "Room No. 8," with not a glance at the paper I put in front of them. So I went to Room 8 and saw that it was the Department of Jews from Islamic Countries. I was disgusted and angry. Either I am a member of the party or I'm not. Do I have a different ideology or different politics because I am an Arab Jew? It's segregation, I thought, just like a Negroes' Department. I turned around and walked out. That was the start of my open protests. That same year I organized a demonstration in Ashkelon against Ben Gurion's racist policies and 10,000 people turned out. There wasn't much opportunity for those of us who were second class citizens to do much about it when Israel was on a war footing with outside enemies. After the 1967 war, I was in the Army myself and served in the Sinai when there was continued fighting along the Suez Canal. But the cease-fire with Egypt in 1970 gave us our opening. We took to the streets and organized politically to demand equal rights. If it's our country, if we were expected to risk our lives in a border war, then we expected equal treatment. We mounted the struggle so tenaciously and received so much publicity that the Israeli government tried to discredit our movement by calling us "Israel's Black Panthers." They were thinking in racist terms, really, in assuming the Israeli public would reject an organization whose ideology was being compared to that of radical blacks in the United States. But we saw that what we were doing was no different than what blacks in the United States were fighting against-segregation, discrimination, unequal treatment. Rather than reject the label, we adopted it proudly. I had posters of Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, Nelson Mandela and other civil rights activists plastered all over my office. With the Israeli invasion of Lebanon and the Israeli-condoned Sabra and Shatilla massacres, I had had enough of Israel. I became a United States citizen and made certain to revoke my Israeli citizenship. I could never have written and published my book in Israel, not with the censorship they would impose. Even in America, I had great difficulty finding a publisher because many are subject to pressures of one kind or another from Israel and its friends. I ended up paying $60,000 from my own pocket to publish Ben Gurion's Scandals: How the Haganah & the Mossad Eliminated Jews, virtually the entire proceeds from having sold my house in Israel. I still was afraid that the printer would back out or that legal proceedings would be initiated to stop its publication, like the Israeli government did in an attempt to prevent former Mossad case officer Victor Ostrovsky from publishing his first book. Ben Gurion's Scandals had to be translated into English from two languages. I wrote in Hebrew when I was in Israel and hoped to publish the book there, and I wrote in Arabic when I was completing the book after coming to the U.S. But I was so worried that something would stop publication that I told the printer not to wait for the translations to be thoroughly checked and proofread. Now I realize that the publicity of a lawsuit would just have created a controversial interest in the book. I am using bank vault storage for the valuable documents that back up what I have written. These documents, including some that I illegally copied from the archives at Yad Vashem, confirm what I saw myself, what I was told by other witnesses, and what reputable historians and others have written concerning the Zionist bombings in Iraq, Arab peace overtures that were rebuffed, and incidents of violence and death inflicted by Jews on Jews in the cause of creating Israel. The Riots of 1941 If, as I have said, my family in Iraq was not persecuted personally and I knew no deprivation as a member of the Jewish minority, what led me to the steps of the gallows as a member of the Zionist underground? To answer that question, it is necessary to establish the context of the massacre that occurred in Baghdad on June 1, 1941, when several hundred Iraqi Jews were killed in riots involving junior officers of the Iraqi army. I was 12 years of age and many of those killed were my friends. I was angry, and very confused. What I didn't know at the time was that the riots most likely were stirred up by the British, in collusion with a pro-British Iraqi leadership. With the breakup of the Ottoman Empire following WW I, Iraq came under British "tutelage." Amir Faisal, son of Sharif Hussein who had led the Arab Revolt against the Ottoman sultan, was brought in from Mecca by the British to become King of Iraq in 1921. Many Jews were appointed to key administrative posts, including that of economics minister. Britain retained final authority over domestic and external affairs. Britain's pro-Zionist attitude in Palestine, however, triggered a growing anti-Zionist backlash in Iraq, as it did in all Arab countries. Writing at the end of 1934, Sir Francis Humphreys, Britain's Ambassador in Baghdad, noted that, while before WW I Iraqi Jews had enjoyed a more favorable position than any other minority in the country, since then "Zionism has sown dissension between Jews and Arabs, and a bitterness has grown up between the two peoples which did not previously exist." King Faisal died in 1933. He was succeeded by his son Ghazi, who died in a motor car accident in 1939. The crown then passed to Ghazi's 4-year-old son, Faisal II, whose uncle, Abd al-Ilah, was named regent. Abd al-Ilah selected Nouri el-Said as prime minister. El-Said supported the British and, as hatred of the British grew, he was forced from office in March 1940 by four senior army officers who advocated Iraq's independence from Britain. Calling themselves the Golden Square, the officers compelled the regent to name as prime minister Rashid Ali al-Kilani, leader of the National Brotherhood party. The time was 1940 and Britain was reeling from a strong German offensive. Al-Kilani and the Golden Square saw this as their opportunity to rid themselves of the British once and for all. Cautiously they began to negotiate for German support, which led the pro-British regent Abd al-Ilah to dismiss al-Kilani in January 1941. By April, however, the Golden Square officers had reinstated the prime minister. This provoked the British to send a military force into Basra on April 12, 1941. Basra, Iraq's second largest city, had a Jewish population of 30,000. Most of these Jews made their livings from import/export, money changing, retailing, as workers in the airports, railways, and ports, or as senior government employees. On the same day, April 12, supporters of the pro-British regent notified the Jewish leaders that the regent wanted to meet with them. As was their custom, the leaders brought flowers for the regent. Contrary to custom, however, the cars that drove them to the meeting place dropped them off at the site where the British soldiers were concentrated. Photographs of the Jews appeared in the following day's newspapers with the banner "Basra Jews Receive British Troops with Flowers." That same day, April 13, groups of angry Arab youths set about to take revenge against the Jews. Several Muslim notables in Basra heard of the plan and calmed things down. Later, it was learned that the regent was not in Basra at all and that the matter was a provocation by his pro-British supporters to bring about an ethnic war in order to give the British army a pretext to intervene. The British continued to land more forces in and around Basra. On May 7, 1941, their Gurkha unit, composed of Indian soldiers from that ethnic group, occupied Basra's el-Oshar quarter, a neighborhood with a large Jewish population. The soldiers, led by British officers, began looting. Many shops in the commercial district were plundered. Private homes were broken into. Cases of attempted rape were reported. Local residents, Jews and Muslims, responded with pistols and old rifles, but their bullets were no match for the soldiers' Tommy Guns. Afterwards, it was learned that the soldiers acted with the acquiescence, if not the blessing, of their British commanders. (It should be remembered that the Indian soldiers, especially those of the Gurkha unit, were known for their discipline, and it is highly unlikely they would have acted so riotously without orders.) The British goal clearly was to create chaos and to blacken the image of the pro-nationalist regime in Baghdad, thereby giving the British forces reason to proceed to the capital and to overthrow the al-Kilani government. Baghdad fell on May 30. Al-Kilani fled to Iran, along with the Golden Square officers. Radio stations run by the British reported that Regent Abd al-Ilah would be returning to the city and that thousands of Jews and others were planning to welcome him. What inflamed young Iraqis against the Jews most, however, was the radio announcer Yunas Bahri on the German station "Berlin," who reported in Arabic that Jews from Palestine were fighting alongside the British against Iraqi soldiers near the city of Faluja. The report was false. On Sunday, June 1, unarmed fighting broke out in Baghdad between Jews who were still celebrating their Shabuoth holiday and young Iraqis who thought the Jews were celebrating the return of the pro-British regent. That evening, a group of Iraqis stopped a bus, removed the Jewish passengers, murdered one and fatally wounded a second. About 8:30 the following morning, some 30 individuals in military and police uniforms opened fire along el-Amin street, a small downtown street whose jewelry, tailor and grocery shops were Jewish-owned. By 11 a.m., mobs of Iraqis with knives, switchblades and clubs were attacking Jewish homes in the area. The riots continued throughout Monday, June 2. During this time, many Muslims rose to defend their Jewish neighbors, while some Jews successfully defended themselves. There were 124 killed and 400 injured, according to a report written by a Jewish Agency messenger who was in Iraq at the time. Other estimates, possibly less reliable, put the death toll higher, as many as 500, with from 650 to 2,000 injured. From 500 to 1,300 stores and more than 1,000 homes and apartments were looted. Who was behind the rioting in the Jewish quarter? Yosef Meir, one of the most prominent activists in the Zionist underground movement in Iraq, known then as Yehoshafat, claims it was the British. Meir, who now works for the Israeli Defense Ministry, argues that, in order to make it appear that the regent was returning as the savior who would reestablish law and order, the British stirred up the riots against the most vulnerable and visible segment in the city, the Jews. And, not surprisingly, the riots ended as soon as the regent's loyal soldiers entered the capital. My own investigations as a journalist lead me to believe Meir is correct. Furthermore, I think his claims should be seen as based on documents in the archives of the Israeli Defense Ministry, the agency that published his book. Yet, even before his book came out, I had independent confirmation from a man I met in Iran in the late Forties. His name was Michael Timosian, an Iraqi Armenian. When I met him he was working as a male nurse at the Anglo-Iranian Oil Company in Abadan in the south of Iran. On June 2, 1941, however, he was working at the Baghdad hospital where many of the riot victims were brought. Most of these victims were Jews. Timosian said he was particularly interested in two patients whose conduct did not follow local custom. One had been hit by a bullet in his shoulder, the other by a bullet in his right knee. After the doctor removed the bullets, the staff tried to change their blood-soaked cloths. But the two men fought off their efforts, pretending to be speechless, although tests showed they could hear. To pacify them, the doctor injected them with anesthetics and, as they were sleeping, Timosian changed their cloths. He discovered that one of them had around his neck an identification tag of the type used by British troops, while the other had tattoos with Indian script on his right arm along with the familiar sword of the Gurkha. The next day when Timosian showed up for work, he was told that a British officer, his sergeant and two Indian Gurkha soldiers had come to the hospital early that morning. Staff members overheard the Gurkha soldiers talking with the wounded patients, who were not as dumb as they had pretended. The patients saluted the visitors, covered themselves with sheets and, without signing the required release forms, left the hospital with their visitors. Today there is no doubt in my mind that the anti-Jewish riots of 1941 were orchestrated by the British for geopolitical ends. David Kimche is certainly a man who was in a position to know the truth, and he has spoken publicly about British culpability. Kimche had been with British Intelligence during WW II and with the Mossad after the war. Later he became Director General of Israel's Foreign Ministry, the position he held in 1982 when he addressed a forum at the British Institute for International Affairs in London. In responding to hostile questions about Israel's invasion of Lebanon and the refugee camp massacres in Beirut, Kimche went on the attack, reminding the audience that there was scant concern in the British Foreign Office when British Gurkha units participated in the murder of 500 Jews in the streets of Baghdad in 1941. The Bombings of 1950-1951 The anti-Jewish riots of 1941 did more than create a pretext for the British to enter Baghdad to reinstate the pro-British regent and his pro-British prime minister, Nouri el-Said. They also gave the Zionists in Palestine a pretext to set up a Zionist underground in Iraq, first in Baghdad, then in other cities such as Basra, Amara, Hillah, Diwaneia, Abril and Karkouk. Following WW II, a succession of governments held brief power in Iraq. Zionist conquests in Palestine, particularly the massacre of Palestinians in the village of Deir Yassin, emboldened the anti-British movement in Iraq. When the Iraqi government signed a new treaty of friendship with London in January 1948, riots broke out all over the country. The treaty was quickly abandoned and Baghdad demanded removal of the British military mission that had run Iraq's army for 27 years. Later in 1948, Baghdad sent an army detachment to Palestine to fight the Zionists, and when Israel declared independence in May, Iraq closed the pipeline that fed its oil to Haifa's refinery. Abd al-Ilah, however, was still regent and the British quisling, Nouri el-Said, was back as prime minister. I was in the Abu-Greib prison in 1948, where I would remain until my escape to Iran in September 1949. Six months later-the exact date was March 19, 1950-a bomb went off at the American Cultural Center and Library in Baghdad, causing property damage and injuring a number of people. The center was a favorite meeting place for young Jews. The first bomb thrown directly at Jews occurred on April 8, 1950, at 9:15 p.m. A car with three young passengers hurled the grenade at Baghdad's El-Dar El-Bida Café, where Jews were celebrating Passover. Four people were seriously injured. That night leaflets were distributed calling on Jews to leave Iraq immediately. The next day, many Jews, most of them poor with nothing to lose, jammed emigration offices to renounce their citizenship and to apply for permission to leave for Israel. So many applied, in fact, that the police had to open registration offices in Jewish schools and synagogues. On May 10, at 3 a.m., a grenade was tossed in the direction of the display window of the Jewish-owned Beit-Lawi Automobile Company, destroying part of the building. No casualties were reported. On June 3, 1950, another grenade was tossed from a speeding car in the El-Batawin area of Baghdad where most rich Jews and middle class Iraqis lived. No one was hurt, but following the explosion Zionist activists sent telegrams to Israel requesting that the quota for immigration from Iraq be increased. On June 5, at 2:30 a.m., a bomb exploded next to the Jewish-owned Stanley Shashua building on El-Rashid street, resulting in property damage but no casualties. On January 14, 1951, at 7 p.m., a grenade was thrown at a group of Jews outside the Masouda Shem-Tov Synagogue. The explosive struck a high-voltage cable, electrocuting three Jews, one a young boy, Itzhak Elmacher, and wounding over 30 others. Following the attack, the exodus of Jews jumped to between 600-700 per day. Zionist propagandists still maintain that the bombs in Iraq were set off by anti-Jewish Iraqis who wanted Jews out of their country. The terrible truth is that the grenades that killed and maimed Iraqi Jews and damaged their property were thrown by Zionist Jews. Among the most important documents in my book, I believe, are copies of two leaflets published by the Zionist underground calling on Jews to leave Iraq. One is dated March 16, 1950, the other April 8, 1950. The difference between these two is critical. Both indicate the date of publication, but only the April 8th leaflet notes the time of day: 4 p.m. Why the time of day? Such a specification was unprecedented. Even the investigating judge, Salaman El-Beit, found it suspicious. Did the 4 p.m. writers want an alibi for a bombing they knew would occur five hours later? If so, how did they know about the bombing? The judge concluded they knew because a connection existed between the Zionist underground and the bomb throwers. This, too, was the conclusion of Wilbur Crane Eveland, a former senior officer in the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), whom I had the opportunity to meet in New York in 1988. In his book, Ropes of Sand, whose publication the CIA opposed, Eveland writes: In attempts to portray the Iraqis as anti-American and to terrorize the Jews, the Zionists planted bombs in the U.S. Information Service library and in synagogues. Soon leaflets began to appear urging Jews to flee to Israel. . . . Although the Iraqi police later provided our embassy with evidence to show that the synagogue and library bombings, as well as the anti-Jewish and anti-American leaflet campaigns, had been the work of an underground Zionist organization, most of the world believed reports that Arab terrorism had motivated the flight of the Iraqi Jews whom the Zionists had "rescued" really just in order to increase Israel's Jewish population." Eveland doesn't detail the evidence linking the Zionists to the attacks, but in my book I do. In 1955, for example, I organized in Israel a panel of Jewish attorneys of Iraqi origin to handle claims of Iraqi Jews who still had property in Iraq. One well known attorney, who asked that I not give his name, confided in me that the laboratory tests in Iraq had confirmed that the anti-American leaflets found at the American Cultural Center bombing were typed on the same typewriter and duplicated on the same stenciling machine as the leaflets distributed by the Zionist movement just before the April 8th bombing. Tests also showed that the type of explosive used in the Beit-Lawi attack matched traces of explosives found in the suitcase of an Iraqi Jew by the name of Yosef Basri. Basri, a lawyer, together with Shalom Salih, a shoemaker, would be put on trial for the attacks in December 1951 and executed the following month. Both men were members of Hashura, the military arm of the Zionist underground. Salih ultimately confessed that he, Basri and a third man, Yosef Habaza, carried out the attacks. By the time of the executions in January 1952, all but 6,000 of an estimated 125,000 Iraqi Jews had fled to Israel. Moreover, the pro-British, pro-Zionist puppet el-Said saw to it that all of their possessions were frozen, including their cash assets. (There were ways of getting Iraqi dinars out, but when the immigrants went to exchange them in Israel they found that the Israeli government kept 50 percent of the value.) Even those Iraqi Jews who had not registered to emigrate, but who happened to be abroad, faced loss of their nationality if they didn't return within a specified time. An ancient, cultured, prosperous community had been uprooted and its people transplanted to a land dominated by East European Jews, whose culture was not only foreign but entirely hateful to them. The Ultimate Criminals Zionist Leaders. From the start they knew that in order to establish a Jewish state they had to expel the indigenous Palestinian population to the neighboring Islamic states and import Jews from these same states. * Theodor Herzl, the architect of Zionism, thought it could be done by social engineering. In his diary entry for 12 June 1885, he wrote that Zionist settlers would have to "spirit the penniless population across the border by procuring employment for it in the transit countries, while denying it any employment in our own country." * Vladimir Jabotinsky, Prime Minister Netanyahu's ideological progenitor, frankly admitted that such a transfer of populations could only be brought about by force. * David Ben Gurion, Israel's first prime minister, told a Zionist Conference in 1937 that any proposed Jewish state would have to "transfer Arab populations out of the area, if possible of their own free will, if not by coercion." After 750,000 Palestinians were uprooted and their lands confiscated in 1948-49, Ben Gurion had to look to the Islamic countries for Jews who could fill the resultant cheap labor market. "Emissaries" were smuggled into these countries to "convince" Jews to leave either by trickery or fear. In the case of Iraq, both methods were used: uneducated Jews were told of a Messianic Israel in which the blind see, the lame walk, and onions grow as big as melons; educated Jews had bombs thrown at them. A few years after the bombings, in the early 1950s, a book was published in Iraq, in Arabic, titled Venom of the Zionist Viper. The author was one of the Iraqi investigators of the 1950-51 bombings and, in his book, he implicates the Israelis, specifically one of the emissaries sent by Israel, Mordechai Ben-Porat. As soon as the book came out, all copies just disappeared, even from libraries. The word was that agents of the Israeli Mossad, working through the U.S. Embassy, bought up all the books and destroyed them. I tried on three different occasions to have one sent to me in Israel, but each time Israeli censors in the post office intercepted it. British Leaders. Britain always acted in its best colonial interests. For that reason Foreign Minister Arthur Balfour sent his famous 1917 letter to Lord Rothschild in exchange for Zionist support in WW I. During WW II the British were primarily concerned with keeping their client states in the Western camp, while Zionists were most concerned with the immigration of European Jews to Palestine, even if this meant cooperating with the Nazis. (In my book I document numerous instances of such dealings by Ben Gurion and the Zionist leadership.) After WW II the international chessboard pitted communists against capitalists. In many countries, including the United States and Iraq, Jews represented a large part of the Communist party. In Iraq, hundreds of Jews of the working intelligentsia occupied key positions in the hierarchy of the Communist and Socialist parties. To keep their client countries in the capitalist camp, Britain had to make sure these governments had pro-British leaders. And if, as in Iraq, these leaders were overthrown, then an anti-Jewish riot or two could prove a useful pretext to invade the capital and reinstate the "right" leaders. Moreover, if the possibility existed of removing the communist influence from Iraq by transferring the whole Jewish community to Israel, well then, why not? Particularly if the leaders of Israel and Iraq conspired in the deed. The Iraqi Leaders. Both the regent Abd al-Ilah and his prime minister Nouri el- Said took directions from London. Toward the end of 1948, el-Said, who had already met with Israel's Prime Minister Ben Gurion in Vienna, began discussing with his Iraqi and British associates the need for an exchange of populations. Iraq would send the Jews in military trucks to Israel via Jordan, and Iraq would take in some of the Palestinians Israel had been evicting. His proposal included mutual confiscation of property. London nixed the idea as too radical. El-Said then went to his back-up plan and began to create the conditions that would make the lives of Iraqi Jews so miserable they would leave for Israel. Jewish government employees were fired from their jobs; Jewish merchants were denied import/export licenses; police began to arrest Jews for trivial reasons. Still the Jews did not leave in any great numbers. In September 1949, Israel sent the spy Mordechai Ben-Porat, the one mentioned in Venom of the Zionist Viper, to Iraq. One of the first things Ben-Porat did was to approach el-Said and promise him financial incentives to have a law enacted that would lift the citizenship of Iraqi Jews. Soon after, Zionist and Iraqi representatives began formulating a rough draft of the bill, according to the model dictated by Israel through its agents in Baghdad. The bill was passed by the Iraqi parliament in March 1950. It empowered the government to issue one-time exit visas to Jews wishing to leave the country. In March, the bombings began. Sixteen years later, the Israeli magazine Haolam Hazeh, published by Uri Avnery, then a Knesset member, accused Ben-Porat of the Baghdad bombings. Ben-Porat, who would become a Knesset member himself, denied the charge, but never sued the magazine for libel. And Iraqi Jews in Israel still call him Morad Abu al-Knabel, Mordechai of the Bombs. As I said, all this went well beyond the comprehension of a teenager. I knew Jews were being killed and an organization existed that could lead us to the Promised Land. So I helped in the exodus to Israel. Later, on occasions, I would bump into some of these Iraqi Jews in Israel. Not infrequently they'd express the sentiment that they could kill me for what I had done. Opportunities for Peace After the Israeli attack on the Jordanian village of Qibya in October, 1953, Ben Gurion went into voluntary exile at the Sedeh Boker kibbutz in the Negev. The Labor party then used to organize many buses for people to go visit him there, where they would see the former prime minister working with sheep. But that was only for show. Really he was writing his diary and continuing to be active behind the scenes. I went on such a tour. Ben Gurion's Scandals by N.Giladi How the Haganah and Mossad eliminated Jews. Available in our BookstoreWe were told not to try to speak to Ben Gurion, but when I saw him, I asked why, since Israel is a democracy with a parliament, does it not have a constitution? Ben Gurion said, "Look, boy"-I was 24 at the time-"if we have a constitution, we have to write in it the border of our country. And this is not our border, my dear." I asked, "Then where is the border?" He said, "Wherever the Sahal will come, this is the border." Sahal is the Israeli army. Ben Gurion told the world that Israel accepted the partition and the Arabs rejected it. Then Israel took half of the land that was promised to the Arab state. And still he was saying it was not enough. Israel needed more land. How can a country make peace with its neighbors if it wants to take their land? How can a country demand to be secure if it won't say what borders it will be satisfied with? For such a country, peace would be an inconvenience. I know now that from the beginning many Arab leaders wanted to make peace with Israel, but Israel always refused. Ben Gurion covered this up with propaganda. He said that the Arabs wanted to drive Israel into the sea and he called Gamal Abdel Nasser the Hitler of the Middle East whose foremost intent was to destroy Israel. He wanted America and Great Britain to treat Nasser like a pariah. In 1954, it seemed that America was getting less critical of Nasser. Then during a three-week period in July, several terrorist bombs were set off: at the United States Information Agency offices in Cairo and Alexandria, a British-owned theater, and the central post office in Cairo. An attempt to firebomb a cinema in Alexandria failed when the bomb went off in the pocket of one of the perpetrators. That led to the discovery that the terrorists were not anti-Western Egyptians, but were instead Israeli spies bent on souring the warming relationship between Egypt and the United States in what came to be known as the Lavon Affair. Ben Gurion was still living on his kibbutz. Moshe Sharett as prime minister was in contact with Abdel Nasser through the offices of Lord Maurice Orbach of Great Britain. Sharett asked Nasser to be lenient with the captured spies, and Nasser did all that was in his power to prevent a deterioration of the situation between the two countries. Then Ben Gurion returned as Defense Minister in February, 1955. Later that month Israeli troops attacked Egyptian military camps and Palestinian refugees in Gaza, killing 54 and injuring many more. The very night of the attack, Lord Orbach was on his way to deliver a message to Nasser, but was unable to get through because of the military action. When Orbach telephoned, Nasser's secretary told him that the attack proved that Israel did not want peace and that he was wasting his time as a mediator. In November, Ben Gurion announced in the Knesset that he was willing to meet with Abdel Nasser anywhere and at any time for the sake of peace and understanding. The next morning the Israeli military attacked an Egyptian military camp in the Sabaha region. Although Nasser felt pessimistic about achieving peace with Israel, he continued to send other mediators to try. One was through the American Friends Service Committee; another via the Prime Minister of Malta, Dom Minthoff; and still another through Marshall Tito of Yugoslavia. One that looked particularly promising was through Dennis Hamilton, editor of The London Times. Nasser told Hamilton that if only he could sit and talk with Ben Gurion for two or three hours, they would be able to settle the conflict and end the state of war between the two countries. When word of this reached Ben Gurion, he arranged to meet with Hamilton. They decided to pursue the matter with the Israeli ambassador in London, Arthur Luria, as liaison. On Hamilton's third trip to Egypt, Nasser met him with the text of a Ben Gurion speech stating that Israel would not give up an inch of land and would not take back a single refugee. Hamilton knew that Ben Gurion with his mouth had undermined a peace mission and missed an opportunity to settle the Israeli-Arab conflict. Nasser even sent his friend Ibrahim Izat of the Ruz El Yusuf weekly paper to meet with Israeli leaders in order to explore the political atmosphere and find out why the attacks were taking place if Israel really wanted peace. One of the men Izat met with was Yigal Yadin, a former Chief of Staff of the army who wrote this letter to me on 14 January 1982: Dear Mr. Giladi: Your letter reminded me of an event which I nearly forgot and of which I remember only a few details. Ibrahim Izat came to me if I am not mistaken under the request of the Foreign Ministry or one of its branches; he stayed in my house and we spoke for many hours. I do not remember him saying that he came on a mission from Nasser, but I have no doubt that he let it be understood that this was with his knowledge or acquiescence.... When Nasser decided to nationalize the Suez Canal in spite of opposition from the British and the French, Radio Cairo announced in Hebrew: If the Israeli government is not influenced by the British and the French imperialists, it will eventually result in greater understanding between the two states, and Egypt will reconsider Israel's request to have access to the Suez Canal. Israel responded that it had no designs on Egypt, but at that very moment Israeli representatives were in France planning the three-way attack that was to take place in October, 1956. All the while, Ben Gurion continued to talk about the Hitler of the Middle East. This brainwashing went on until late September, 1970, when Gamal Abdel Nasser passed away. Then, miracle of miracles, David Ben Gurion told the press: A week before he died I received an envoy from Abdel Nasser who asked to meet with me urgently in order to solve the problems between Israel and the Arab world. The public was surprised because they didn't know that Abdel Nasser had wanted this all along, but Israel sabotaged it. Nasser was not the only Arab leader who wanted to make peace with Israel. There were many others. Brigadier General Abdel Karim Qasem, before he seized power in Iraq in July, 1958, headed an underground organization that sent a delegation to Israel to make a secret agreement. Ben Gurion refused even to see him. I learned about this when I was a journalist in Israel. But whenever I tried to publish even a small part of it, the censor would stamp it "Not Allowed." Now, in Netanyahu, we are witnessing another attempt by an Israeli prime minister to fake an interest in making peace. Netanyahu and the Likud are setting Arafat up by demanding that he institute more and more repressive measures in the interest of Israeli "security." Sooner or later I suspect the Palestinians will have had enough of Arafat's strong-arm methods as Israel's quisling-and he'll be killed. Then the Israeli government will say, "See, we were ready to give him everything. You can't trust those Arabs-they kill each other. Now there's no one to even talk to about peace." Conclusion Alexis de Tocqueville once observed that it is easier for the world to accept a simple lie than a complex truth. Certainly it has been easier for the world to accept the Zionist lie that Jews were evicted from Muslim lands because of anti-Semitism, and that Israelis, never the Arabs, were the pursuers of peace. The truth is far more discerning: bigger players on the world stage were pulling the strings. These players, I believe, should be held accountable for their crimes, particularly when they willfully terrorized, dispossessed and killed innocent people on the altar of some ideological imperative. I believe, too, that the descendants of these leaders have a moral responsibility to compensate the victims and their descendants, and to do so not just with reparations, but by setting the historical record straight. That is why I established a panel of inquiry in Israel to seek reparations for Iraqi Jews who had been forced to leave behind their property and possessions in Iraq. That is why I joined the Black Panthers in confronting the Israeli government with the grievances of the Jews in Israel who came from Islamic lands. And that is why I have written my book and this article: to set the historical record straight. We Jews from Islamic lands did not leave our ancestral homes because of any natural enmity between Jews and Muslims. And we Arabs-I say Arab because that is the language my wife and I still speak at home-we Arabs on numerous occasions have sought peace with the State of the Jews. And finally, as a U.S. citizen and taxpayer, let me say that we Americans need to stop supporting racial discrimination in Israel and the cruel expropriation of lands in the West Bank, Gaza, South Lebanon and the Golan Heights.

Find connections between the selection and the world outside. 10 points for the best answer!? "WE'RE going through!" The Commander's voice was like thin ice breaking. He wore his full-dress uniform, with the heavily braided white cap pulled down rakishly over one cold gray eye. "We can't make it, sir. It's spoiling for a hurricane, if you ask me." "I'm not asking you, Lieutenant Berg," said the Commander. "Throw on the power lights! Rev her up to 8500! We're going through!" The pounding of the cylinders increased: ta-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa. The Commander stared at the ice forming on the pilot window. He walked over and twisted a row of complicated dials. "Switch on No. 8 auxiliary!" he shouted. "Switch on No. 8 auxiliary!" repeated Lieutenant Berg. "Full strength in No. 3 turret!" shouted the Commander. "Full strength in No. 3 turret!" The crew, bending to their various tasks in the huge, hurtling eight-engined Navy hydroplane, looked at each other and grinned. "The Old Man'll get us through," they said to one another. "The Old Man ain't afraid of hell!" . . . "Not so fast! You're driving too fast!" said Mrs. Mitty. "What are you driving so fast for?" "Hmm?" said Walter Mitty. He looked at his wife, in the seat beside him, with shocked astonishment. She seemed grossly unfamiliar, like a strange woman who had yelled at him in a crowd. "You were up to fifty-five," she said. "You know I don't like to go more than forty. You were up to fifty-five." Walter Mitty drove on toward Waterbury in silence, the roaring of the SN202 through the worst storm in twenty years of Navy flying fading in the remote, intimate airways of his mind. "You're tensed up again," said Mrs. Mitty. "It's one of your days. I wish you'd let Dr. Renshaw look you over." Walter Mitty stopped the car in front of the building where his wife went to have her hair done. "Remember to get those overshoes while I'm having my hair done," she said. "I don't need overshoes," said Mitty. She put her mirror back into her bag. "We've been all through that," she said, getting out of the car. "You're not a young man any longer." He raced the engine a little. "Why don't you wear your gloves? Have you lost your gloves?" Walter Mitty reached in a pocket and brought out the gloves. He put them on, but after she had turned and gone into the building and he had driven on to a red light, he took them off again. "Pick it up, brother!" snapped a cop as the light changed, and Mitty hastily pulled on his gloves and lurched ahead. He drove around the streets aimlessly for a time, and then he drove past the hospital on his way to the parking lot. . . . "It's the millionaire banker, Wellington McMillan," said the pretty nurse. "Yes?" said Walter Mitty, removing his gloves slowly. "Who has the case?" "Dr. Renshaw and Dr. Benbow, but there are two specialists here, Dr. Remington from New York and Dr. Pritchard-Mitford from London. He flew over." A door opened down a long, cool corridor and Dr. Renshaw came out. He looked distraught and haggard. "Hello, Mitty," he said. `'We're having the devil's own time with McMillan, the millionaire banker and close personal friend of Roosevelt. Obstreosis of the ductal tract. Tertiary. Wish you'd take a look at him." "Glad to," said Mitty. In the operating room there were whispered introductions: "Dr. Remington, Dr. Mitty. Dr. Pritchard-Mitford, Dr. Mitty." "I've read your book on streptothricosis," said Pritchard-Mitford, shaking hands. "A brilliant performance, sir." "Thank you," said Walter Mitty. "Didn't know you were in the States, Mitty," grumbled Remington. "Coals to Newcastle, bringing Mitford and me up here for a tertiary." "You are very kind," said Mitty. A huge, complicated machine, connected to the operating table, with many tubes and wires, began at this moment to go pocketa-pocketa-pocketa. "The new anesthetizer is giving away!" shouted an intern. "There is no one in the East who knows how to fix it!" "Quiet, man!" said Mitty, in a low, cool voice. He sprang to the machine, which was now going pocketa-pocketa-queep-pocketa-queep . He began fingering delicately a row of glistening dials. "Give me a fountain pen!" he snapped. Someone handed him a fountain pen. He pulled a faulty piston out of the machine and inserted the pen in its place. "That will hold for ten minutes," he said. "Get on with the operation. A nurse hurried over and whispered to Renshaw, and Mitty saw the man turn pale. "Coreopsis has set in," said Renshaw nervously. "If you would take over, Mitty?" Mitty looked at him and at the craven figure of Benbow, who drank, and at the grave, uncertain faces of the two great specialists. "If you wish," he said. They slipped a white gown on him, he adjusted a mask and drew on thin gloves; nurses handed him shining . . . "Back it up, Mac!! Look out for that Buick!" Walter Mitty jammed on the brakes. "Wrong lane, Mac," said the parking-lot attendant, looking at Mitty closely. "Gee. Yeh," muttered Mitty. He began cautiously to back out of the lane marked "Exit Only." "Leave her sit there," said the attendant. "I'll put her away." Mitty got out of the car. "Hey, better leave the key." "Oh," said Mitty, handing the man the ignition key. The attendant vaulted into the car, backed it up with insolent skill, and put it where it belonged. They're so damn cocky, thought Walter Mitty, walking along Main Street; they think they know everything. Once he had tried to take his chains off, outside New Milford, and he had got them wound around the axles. A man had had to come out in a wrecking car and unwind them, a young, grinning garageman. Since then Mrs. Mitty always made him drive to a garage to have the chains taken off. The next time, he thought, I'll wear my right arm in a sling; they won't grin at me then. I'll have my right arm in a sling and they'll see I couldn't possibly take the chains off myself. He kicked at the slush on the sidewalk. "Overshoes," he said to himself, and he began looking for a shoe store. When he came out into the street again, with the overshoes in a box under his arm, Walter Mitty began to wonder what the other thing was his wife had told him to get. She had told him, twice before they set out from their house for Waterbury. In a way he hated these weekly trips to town--he was always getting something wrong. Kleenex, he thought, Squibb's, razor blades? No. Tooth paste, toothbrush, bicarbonate, Carborundum, initiative and referendum? He gave it up. But she would remember it. "Where's the what's-its- name?" she would ask. "Don't tell me you forgot the what's-its-name." A newsboy went by shouting something about the Waterbury trial. . . . "Perhaps this will refresh your memory." The District Attorney suddenly thrust a heavy automatic at the quiet figure on the witness stand. "Have you ever seen this before?'' Walter Mitty took the gun and examined it expertly. "This is my Webley-Vickers 50.80," ho said calmly. An excited buzz ran around the courtroom. The Judge rapped for order. "You are a crack shot with any sort of firearms, I believe?" said the District Attorney, insinuatingly. "Objection!" shouted Mitty's attorney. "We have shown that the defendant could not have fired the shot. We have shown that he wore his right arm in a sling on the night of the fourteenth of July." Walter Mitty raised his hand briefly and the bickering attorneys were stilled. "With any known make of gun," he said evenly, "I could have killed Gregory Fitzhurst at three hundred feet with my left hand." Pandemonium broke loose in the courtroom. A woman's scream rose above the bedlam and suddenly a lovely, dark-haired girl was in Walter Mitty's arms. The District Attorney struck at her savagely. Without rising from his chair, Mitty let the man have it on the point of the chin. "You miserable cur!" . . . "Puppy biscuit," said Walter Mitty. He stopped walking and the buildings of Waterbury rose up out of the misty courtroom and surrounded him again. A woman who was passing laughed. "He said 'Puppy biscuit,'" she said to her companion. "That man said 'Puppy biscuit' to himself." Walter Mitty hurried on. He went into an A. & P., not the first one he came to but a smaller one farther up the street. "I want some biscuit for small, young dogs," he said to the clerk. "Any special brand, sir?" The greatest pistol shot in the world thought a moment. "It says 'Puppies Bark for It' on the box," said Walter Mitty. His wife would be through at the hairdresser's in fifteen minutes' Mitty saw in looking at his watch, unless they had trouble drying it; sometimes they had trouble drying it. She didn't like to get to the hotel first, she would want him to be there waiting for her as usual. He found a big leather chair in the lobby, facing a window, and he put the overshoes and the puppy biscuit on the floor beside it. He picked up an old copy of Liberty and sank down into the chair. "Can Germany Conquer the World Through the Air?" Walter Mitty looked at the pictures of bombing planes and of ruined streets. . . . "The cannonading has got the wind up in young Raleigh, sir," said the sergeant. Captain Mitty looked up at him through tousled hair. "Get him to bed," he said wearily, "with the others. I'll fly alone." "But you can't, sir," said the sergeant anxiously. "It takes two men to handle that bomber and the Archies are pounding hell out of the air. Von Richtman's circus is between here and Saulier." "Somebody's got to get that ammunition dump," said Mitty. "I'm going over. Spot of brandy?" He poured a drink for the sergeant and one for himself. War thundered and whined around the dugout and battered at the door. There was a rending of wood and splinters flew through the room. "A bit of a near thing," said Captain Mitty carelessly. 'The box barrage is closing in," said the sergeant. "We only live once, Sergeant," said Mitty, with his faint, fleeting smile. "Or do we?" He poured another brandy and tossed it off. "I never see a man could hold his brandy like you, sir," said the sergeant. "Begging your pardon, sir." Captain Mitty stood up and strapped on his huge Webley-Vickers automatic. "It's forty kilometers through hell, sir," said the sergeant. Mitty finished one last brandy. "After all," he said softly, "what isn't?" The pounding of the cannon increased; there was the rat-tat-tatting of machine guns, and from somewhere came the menacing pocketa-pocketa-pocketa of the new flame-throwers. Walter Mitty walked to the door of the dugout humming "Aupres de Ma Blonde." He turned and waved to the sergeant. "Cheerio!" he said. . . . Something struck his shoulder. "I've been looking all over this hotel for you," said Mrs. Mitty. "Why do you have to hide in this old chair? How did you expect me to find you?" "Things close in," said Walter Mitty vaguely. "What?" Mrs. Mitty said. "Did you get the what's-its-name? The puppy biscuit? What's in that box?" "Overshoes," said Mitty. "Couldn't you have put them on in the store?" 'I was thinking," said Walter Mitty. "Does it ever occur to you that I am sometimes thinking?" She looked at him. "I'm going to take your temperature when I get you home," she said. They went out through the revolving doors that made a faintly derisive whistling sound when you pushed them. It was two blocks to the parking lot. At the drugstore on the corner she said, "Wait here for me. I forgot something. I won't be a minute." She was more than a minute. Walter Mitty lighted a cigarette. It began to rain, rain with sleet in it. He stood up against the wall of the drugstore, smoking. . . . He put his shoulders back and his heels together. "To hell with the handkerchief," said Waker Mitty scornfully. He took one last drag on his cigarette and snapped it away. Then, with that faint, fleeting smile playing about his lips, he faced the firing squad; erect and motionless, proud and disdainful, Walter Mitty the Undefeated, inscrutable to the last.

I wrote this short story recently and it's my favorite one and I'm looking for opinions? The Lips of a Killer By: John Houlihan Inspired by the art of robbery and the never ending love of Bonnie and Clyde. The wind blew her red, shining hair as the car sped down the empty highway. Her beauty was of an angel, but what he loved about her the most; her soul was of Satan himself...the lust to kill made him love her even more. Her eyes were as blue as the oceans of Ireland, even when they are widened with the proficiency and sinful art of murder at her hands he can never look away. Her lips as red as the blood that would coat her hands after killing an innocent, but as lushful as a rose full of morning dew. Their love would live through all eternity and no one could break their chain of endless passion for one another. She ran her fingers threw her hair as she admired the jet black Beretta that rested gently on the dashboard. Picking it up she felt the coldness of the handle, and the surge of power it sent through her body. As she set it back down, she looked at him sitting behind the wheel of the white corvette, his big brown eyes concentrated on the road ahead. But they looked more concentrated then usual, she knew he was anxious to get to their destination, he was anxious to kill. She rubbed her finger across his cheek, and then through his short black hair; a smile drew across his face as he gave a quick glance at her and rested his hand on her leg. The white corvette's speed increased as it passed a large sign stating : Affluent City next Right Five minutes passed until the site of the edge of the small, urban town came into view. She smirked as she said, "How many you think live in this pathetic town." "Not many, probably around ninty or a hundred." "Where are we gonna do this?" "The bank, make it look like a robbery." "Great, we can get a few bucks out of this." As the car made it to the main street they continued own until they reached the stale, grey building which stated in large black letters County Bank. The car slowed as it reached the front of the bank, "This one," he said. The car continued slowly to the parking lot across the street, they didn't need a getaway car...they wanted the police to come. As they found an empty spot, the engine went from a loud mechanical noise to a low hum until it stopped and began to cool down. She reached into the glove compartment and took out a clean, black ski mask and slipped it on over her head. He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a old, torn black ski mask as well, unlike hers his mask only showed his eyes. "Why don't you by a new one, that shitty thing makes us look unproffesional.....and it smells like moth balls," she said taking it out of his hands. "Hey...I've had this thing since the Troubles, we irish republicans take pride in our diminutive possessions," he stated proudly snatching it back out of her hands. "Trust me, I know...if only you knew my father before the Tans got 'em," she vexed as she took the Beretta off the dashboard and twisted a long silencer barrel on the front of it. He reached into the same compartment and took out a silver, barreled Desert Eagle and took it out slowly as it sparkled from the early morning sun. He took a silver silencer barrel out of his back pocket and twisted it until a click signified it's fit. "Are you ready." "Yeah." "I love you. "I love you, too." He leaned over and before tasting her beautiful lips, he took a smell of her gorgeous perfume that matched the essence of her love. Slowly he kissed her, feeling her smooth skin of her red lips, as she slipped her tongue into his mouth and it massaged the top of his lip. "Let's go kill," she said as she receded, and locked a clip into her Beretta. He took the clip and squeezed small silver bullets into the clip until it was full then locked the clip into the monstorous pistol. Simultaneously the doors opened of the corvette opened, and closed with a loud thud one after the other, as he put his arm around her when they met in the front of the car and walked together into the bank. She opened the double glass doors, and retrieved from her pocket a Peroxide coated cloth and a seven inch bladed pocket knife. Leisurely she creeped up behind the guard, and quickly covered his mouth and nose with the cloth. At first he put up a struggle to reach for his gun, but she shoved the knife into his spine and twisted it as she took it out and followed the motion two more times causing the guard to fall to the ground. Unknowing the five bankers continued to sign off checks, give money to the customers, and take money in a deposit. The six customers waited in line to talk to a banker, filled out withdrawal papers in the corner, and awaited in soft, cushioned chairs to talk executives. He walked into the center of the room, and finally a young banker noticed the dead guard and she let out a holler, followed by the screams until he shot two silent shots into the ceiling. "Hey, all of you calm the fuck down until I blow each and one of your cocksucking brains all over the floor," he screamed walking around pointing the gun at each person's head he passed. He walked over to the first banker on the right. An over weight man, in his forties, and definetly a diabetic. He pressed the gun against the glass, "Open the fuckin' door." A buzz noise sounded as the door opened to the back room, and he made his way in while never taking his eyes of the overweight man. As he entered the room he noticed a pin on the overweight man's business jacket, it was a flag of the Union Jack. "What the fuck is this." "W-what, sir." "This fuckin' pin on your shirt." "I-it's a B-British flag sir, my family is of British d-descent." "This morning when you put this on your fuckin' jacket...you made the biggest mistake of your life my friend," he stated as he grabbed the handle of the gun and began beating in the nose of the banker. Screams from the other bankers, as blood began to splatter on the closest bankers shirt. He threw the overweight man to the ground and silenced his gurgled coughing with three shots into his stomach. Then he walked up to the next banker, a young girl probably in her late twenties, long blonde hair, and stale blue eyes. He pointed the gun to her head, "You take me to the vault, you three get in the lobby...now!" She slowly walked over to the opened vault, and brought him inside and began quickly emptying the thirty silver boxes into a large bag. As she got to the last box and handed him the bag, he winked at her, "Thanks, darling," squeezing the trigger shooting her in the forehead. He gave a look around the vault one more time, and made his way back into the bank tellers offices, them into the lobby. He stopped, he frowned and then slowly smiled. "Are you alright," She stood there blood all over her hands up to her wrists, blood patches staind her bell bottom jeans, in her hand the blade coated in a thick layer of blood. The Beretta lay empty on the carpet, along side all the bodies of the customers, and the three bankers who he had told to enter the lobby. He walked over to her, and put his arms around her as she began to fall to the ground. Her body shook in anxiety and adrenaline, he held her as they sat on the ground, gently stroaking her hair. "It was too easy," she said as she stood. "Come on let's get out of here," he was drowned out by the sound of sirens. Two cop cars pulled up in front of the bank, and out of both cars four police officers pointed their guns at the door. "I'll deal with these pigs, you cover me," she said taking off her ski mask. As the double doors opened, she slowly limped out the door and the cops eased their guns back. She limped to about the edge of the sidewalk before two of the cops slowly came over to her aid. "Help me, they killed my husband...they killed every one help," she hollered. Two of the cops made it over to her, one put his hand on her back and the other wrapped his arm around her helping her over to the cruiser. She felt the sturdy, wood of the blades' handle and thrusted it forward into the throat of the cop with the arm around her back, then brought it back and sliced across the other cops' neck. The two other cops hollered and opened fire as she dove behind the cruiser of the two dead cops. The double door of the bank swung open, he opened fire and hit the first unaware cop in the arm then in the head, the second cop turned to fire on him but was too late as he emptied the clip into his torso. He ran over to her, helped her up as they made their way to the corvette. Sirens in the opposite streets could be heard as they got closer, as they sat into the car. He placed the Desert Eagle back into the glove compartment, and she did the same with her Beretta. As she placed the Beretta into the compartment, she retrieved a cloth to clean her hands and pants. The wheels of the corvette screached as he backed out of the parking lot and into the streets of Affluent. Turning the tight corners of the small streets until they finally were back on the empty highway again. Back at the Bank, a cop crawled over to the cruised and grabbed the transmitter, "B-14....B-14, four officers down...County Bank. Shooters in white corvette, one female red hair, blue eyes. One male, black hair, brown eyes. Heading in the direction of the highway, road block....road block the county line. Send Paramedics....County Bank." The corvette sped down the highway, the sound of the black tires on the smooth, flat surface hummed softly. She cleaned her hands and tossed the rag out the window, again she looked over at him. He took his eyes off the narrow road and looked at her, "Ta tu alainn," he murmured to her as their lips met once again. She pushed him off her, "Watch the road." He laughed and continued to floor the pedal, accelerating the car to it's top speed. An hour went by as the sun got lower in the sky and the time reached noon. The car kept at a steady rate, she slept calmly in the passengers' seat, and the classic rock of Creedence Clearwater Revival played, quietly on the radio as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. They came to tight turn and as they turned in front of them was a long stretched road. As the road got shorter and shorter from the speed of the car, he noticed the flash of lights. Red and blue, flashing and as the car neared them he took his foot off the accelerator until the car came to a complete stop. He flicked off the radio, tapped her gently on the shoulder and led his hand down her side to her leg, as she opened her eyes softly, she noticed the flashing of the lights. He sighed, and looked at her, she looked at him. For a moment it was as if neither of them had a care in the world, it was just them two together...in love. "You sure you want to do this?" "Yeah, we gave it a good run." "I love you." "I love you, too." She reached under the seat and took out a black barreled, brown butted shotgun. He turned to the back seat and picked up Heckler MP5 submachine gun, and pulled back the chamber and loaded the clip. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around the left side of her shoulder. Still having it on the right side of his shoulder they both got out of the car together. The jacket covered his right arm where he held the submachine gun, and the jacket covered her left arm where she held the shotgun. As they made their way to the road block she started to limp, "We give up! The cops back at Affluent shot her, we give up," he hollered as they slowly walked forward. "Wait until I drop the jacket," she whispered. They got closer and closer until they were about three car distances away, then they stopped. The cops who were at the road block continued to point their guns in their direction. Suddenly the jacket dropped, she stood up from the limp and opened fire on the police, her first shot hit a cop in the face. He also opened fire on the police, immediately the quick fire of the machine gun took out two police officers. The cops had also opened fire as soon as they spotted the shotgun she was wielding, erupts of over twenty guns echoed throughout the highway. A bullet struck her in the chest sending her onto one knee but she kept on firing, taking down another cop. One grazed his throat, he ignored the stinging pain, and stood tall firing at the mass of police. She got shot in the stomach than in the leg, and once more into the left breast sending her to the ground. He hollered in anger and became more precise in accuracy taking down three more cops, until he was struck in the stomach three times, than in the chest bringing him to a kneel. He kept firing and picked up her shotgun shooting both strong guns, the pressure from the gun pushed him...trying to keep his balance he continued to fire in rage. A shot pierced his throat as he fell back onto the ground next to her. He kept his finger on the submachine gun's trigger firing blindly as he lay next to his gorgeous maiden. He muscled up the strength to lean face to face with her, gazing into her eyes one last time, he pushed himself forward and their lips met, the taste of her lips was gone now the taste was cold and stale but he would never forget how they once tasted the lips of a killer.

Why Is The Bank So Worried About Their Pen That They Have To Put It On A Chain? You know the pen at the bank? Why is it on that damn chain? It drives me insane! They can leave both vaults open; sure, the MONEY, that's unimportant, but GOD FORBID someone should steal the friggin pen. There's only free ones THREE FEET AWAY! What kind of genius criminal mind walks into a bank, pulls out a gun, and STEALS THE PEN? Correct me if I'm mistaken, but I BELIEVE there are better things to steal in a bank. What's he gonna do, shove it in his trench coat, run outside and dive into a getaway car? What they SHOULD do is tie a bungee cord to it. THEN we'd have a show. Or 500 feet of clear fishing line, so he'd be halfway outta town, smug grin on his face.....thinking crime DOES pay....and WHAM!!! If the pen is the only secure thing in a bank why can't they just hide all the money INSIDE THE PEN?

Is my story good so far? I'm writing a story based off of the video game "Fallout 3" and i wanted to see if there is anything that i should change or anybody that's played the game that could tell me anything that i missed so far. Just give me some advice on writing cause i enjoy it alot, i just want t make sure its good. Thanks! Fallout “Come on Jessica, it’s time to go to school.” Ugh, school. I got out of the desk chair I accidentally slept in from exhausting homework. I got my bag, the one my friend, Alyssa, gave to me many years ago for my birthday. Yes, it’s really old and it still has a big stain from when she accidentally spilled the fruit punch all over, but it’s usable. So I grabbed the bag and said bye to my dad “Bye Dad.” He was studying something on the computer “Bye sweetie, good luck on your G.O.A.T. test! Remember, don’t cheat!” Whatever. As I was walking down the hall in the corner of my eye, I saw a radroach. I immediately put my bag down and got my B-B gun out. Thank god Dad taught me how to use one when I was 10. For some reason, lately there have been many radroach swarms but at least they are very weak. Ever since my mom died, dad has never been the same. He was always very quiet and he never wanted me to bring friends over. Never. Sometimes when I got home after school, I would find him just laying on the couch, staring, at nothing. Poor dad. 6 years later, he’s still doing the same thing. He never wanted to talk about how mom died. I still don’t know how mom died, but that’s going to change very soon. Every time I try to ask about it, he’d always get really mad. Even when he’d get mad I would look into his eyes. Always a hint of sadness and anger. Anyway, I cocked the B-B gun and crouched down. Wow, radroach’s are so stupid. Didn’t even see it coming, as easy as taking candy from a baby. I shoot. All I hear is a big popping sound and guts all over the wall. “Head shot!” I scream, looking around, expecting someone to tell me how good I did, or how cool it looked. But I was disappointed of what I saw. A deserted hallway. My face fell from a smile to a disappointed frown. Well I didn’t want to be late for class so I got up from crouching and put my B-B gun back in my bag. I only kept it there for emergencies. So I ran down the hall to my class, not even thinking about cleaning up the mess of radroach guts on the wall. “Welcome to the G.O.A.T Test! Now I know you’re wondering what GO.A.T stands for, so I’m going to tell you. It stands for a lot of long words that pretty much means it’s an occupational test. This means after you take the test, when I grade it for you, you will have a suggestion for which job here in vault 101 suites you the best. Now before we take the G.O.A.T, I’m just going to review a few facts about our history of Vault 101.” He stated. When I looked around everybody was pretty close to falling asleep. While Mr. Wesley was getting the slideshow ready, I really thought about our history. Do we really live in a vault that millions of years ago a man built to protect us from the -+dangers in life? And did that same man make a rule that if you leave the vault, you could be brutally executed, or never allowed in there again? Well, at least that’s what my dad told me, but from previous experiences, he could have been keeping the whole truth from me and I would have never known. “Now, I think you all know what will happen if you decide to leave the vault right?” No answer. As I looked around, everybody had the most confused face on. Am I the only one who actually knows this stuff? Well I guess I have to give my dad some credit for at least giving me some information about our mysterious world. Since he’s the vault’s one and only doctor, he always knows all the gossip. Lucky! “All right then. Well I guess I could tell you really quickly for the ones who are dying to know.” He says, knowing just by looking at his face that this subject is probably one he likes talking about, or he knows a lot about. “Well, the mayor of Vault 101 made a law that if you try to escape the Vault that the person will be executed very brutally, or the mayor will lock the vault door and make you stay in the horrible world called The Wasteland.” Mr. Wesley stated, adjusting his glasses also. I really don’t know why he wears glasses. I’ve seen him at the trade store buying contacts and some cake mix. I guess he wants to look smarter, or sexier. All of my friends think he is the hottest thing ever, but I always want to vomit even thinking about Mr. Wesley and sexy in the same sentence. Eeww!! “But there’s only been one person that’s ever escaped the Vault. Anyway, nobody even knows where the door to the vault is, and it probably wouldn’t even open because of all the rust. So don’t even think of trying to escape the vault because there is heavy security anywhere close to the door. Even the one that escaped to Vault, I heard he didn’t even have time to try to find any humanity before he got eaten alive by the mole rats

Hilarious Dark Knight Opening Spoof part 2!? They stare at him, strangely. He just smirks a little in return wearing his mask. Cut: Ext. Bank Entrance The car pulls up to the front entrance and the group hurriedly exits the car, carrying their bags. CLOWN #1- Let's do this, fellas. (pulls out his machine gun) Quickly, the other clowns pull out their automatic weapons. Seeing this, the man opens his bag and pulls out...a large purplish super-soaker. CLOWN #3- Holy crap! Is that a fucking water gun? MAN- Yeah...so I thought maybe we'd celebrate later. Got a problem? CLOWN #1- Okay, go! Holding their guns up, they open the door and enter the bank. While running, they fire into the air while yelling at costumers. CLOWN #2- Alright, everybody get down! Hit the floor, right now! CLOWN #1 Listen to the man! You won't be hu- (crashes into a nearby column) Oh, shit. Three and two run up to some of the bank teller desks and grab various screaming workers. Quickly, they pull some over their desks to the floor. CLOWN #3- Let's go, shut up! LADY WORKER- (screaming) Ahhh, please no! I'm only white and married, I don't deserve this! CLOWN #2- Yeah, times change bitch! Shut up! They go up to another desk and grab another person, only it's Michael Mann the director of Heat. CLOWN #3- On the flo- hey, wait a minute. Aren't you Michael Mann? MICHAEL MANN- (scared) Uh, yes...I am. I just wanted to stop by and see how things are going on this bank scene. Didn't I tell you that using my scene from Heat would give your film more credability? CLOWN #1- (walking up, holding his head) Well, this IS directly ripping off your film, right? MICHAEL MANN- Sure, but I mean you know how things are these days. People are always gonna copy off of other movies cause they just tend to not think with originality any more. Am I right, guys? CLOWN #2- (thinking) Yeah, you do have a point there. Some of them agree. MICHAEL MANN- Hey, thanks for let- (gets shot in the face) CLOWN #1- He ain't the director in this one. (laughs) Now, hit the vault! Two and three head for the vault room with their bags. Clown 1 walks up to a nearby desk counter and points his gun at a screaming teller. CLOWN #1- Listen up, lady. Give me all your money in the register, now! LADY- (sceaming) Please god! Nooooo! CLOWN #1- Do it, or I'll blow your head off! LADY- (quietly laughting) Oh no, not that. It's just that we only have bills in 5's and my boyfriend dumped me today. Show a little symphathy, will you? He starts to feel a little sorry for her, while holding his gun. Clown #1- (apologizing) Oh...er, I'm sorry to hear that, lady. How about you just give me whatever you got? The teller looks at him, then begins taking money out of the register. Clown #1- (thinking she thought he meant something else) Oh, no. No, I didn't mean it like that. LADY- (giving him money offended) Oh, I know EXACTLY what you meant! You sick clown-fuck! You ain't taking what I'm shaking here, mmmhhhmmm She throws the money at him and punches him in the face, and he collapses. CLOWN #1- But lady....I- LADY- Now leave me alone while I watch Dancing with the Stars! (turns to tv eating popcorn and a redbull) Hurt, 1 walks off depressed carrying his bag of money. Cut to: Int. Vault Room We see 2 and 3 trying to open the vault. 2 is using a large safe-cracker device to scan for the right combo. CLOWN #3- Will you hurry it up? CLOWN #2- I'm trying, but this thing is too damn tough to break. CLOWN #3- Uh, that's cause you're using it backwards. CLOWN #2- (realizing) Oh shit. You're right, thanks. (turns the device around) CLOWN #3- So, have you heard of this guy called the Joker? Hearing this, 2 turns his head while working and thinking about it. CLOWN #2- Uh, actually I have. Supposedly, he's like this psychotic criminal who wears makeup all the time and rambles on about being better than everyone else, even though he's the one with issues. And then he causes chaos around the city to make himself feel better when his precious shares go under at the stock market. Plus, he always wears these ridiculous purple clothes to remind people that homosexual freedom of speech is important these days. Hell, I think HE might be the reason this movie is so freaking successful! CLOWN #3- Wow, I never knew there's someone in this city cooler than us. I mean, let's face it we're just henchmen. They both stop to ponder about this, but then continue. CLOWN #2- Yeah, I'm gonna be a little richer since that dude who's with us told me to kill you before I'm done here. (laughs) I mean what kind of crap is that, man? CLOWN #3- (looking up strangely) Really? Cause funny you should mention that, he told me the exact same thing about you. Man, that shit is weird. CLOWN #2- Well, if you really think about it...killing each other would guarantee that he would get most of the cash, right? CLOWN #3- Oh sh CLOWN #3- Oh shit, you're right. But how long do we have until that DOES happen? CLOWN #2- Uh, I think we have only like a minute left anyways, so- (pulls out gun) CLOWN #3- (Dissappointed) Son of a bitch man! I really wanted to buy my dad Rock Band 2. He pulls out his, and they both fire at each other until neither is moving.

I see where Ariz. lawmakers are debating allowing guns on college campuses. Isn't it about time? When I first started college here in New Mexico, I was shocked to find out we weren't allowed to have our guns with us. We had to check them into a vault at the police station and SIGN for them to "check them out" like library books every time we wanted to go out and hunt some quail or something. To me, it was the biggest infringement to date on the 2nd Amendment, and the last time I checked, not only was the college campus was on U.S. soil, but I was indeed a U.S. citizen with no felonies, so the 2nd Amendment should have come into play. Now, 20 years later, we have all these school shootings. Wouldn't it be a deterrent to these little idiots for them to know that qualified students are walking around the campuses armed? Wouldn't they think twice about opening fire, knowing they're liable to get taken out before they have a chance to inflict the damage they intend to inflict? Is it not about time actual lawmakers are thinking along these lines? EDIT: Dave, we DID bring our guns into the dorms. And the campus police knew it too. They disagreed with having us check our guns into the police station just as much as we disagreed with it. And you know what? None of us ever picked up our guns and went on a shooting rampage.

do you like these christian rap lyrics? Gospel gangstaz- Do or Die? I let it be known from the jump that this was Christ for life He put me on with this life and since we bangin I got to get my stripes lay in the cut, with my Bible in front my gut and when I jump up, you know the fallen angels duck or break and runnin, and as for prisoners I'm takin none I'm on raise you that rep, now you ain't starin down the shakin gun (??) I'm singin demons die, was thinkin for survival trippin (??) I binds em up in the Name of Jesus, then I Bible whip em so if you wicked make sure you still steppin and my Bible might remain a concealed weapon see, prayer is how my text spit, my Bible's my next clip I worship and praise the G, you step to me and you get checked quick see you dealin with a Saved thug and when I put on my gloves demons get no love, just mo slugs now when the mob, they points the finger at me I keep my Bible in my khaki, plus I'm trigger happy, yeah I gangs bang everyday, I cant stay neutral cuz satan hate my gut so the feeling stay mutual I'm real with the Son so real is how I come I never been a mark, if I'm a do it then its done its Jesus Christ for life, and satan K all day and I'm on represent that rhyme until I flatline to all the Christians stay on deck, cause you and i in 96 we chew or fry, we do or die (??) (do or die) I'm do or die, I'm do or die I dont know about you but i, be do or die I'm do or die, I'm do or die either God has got a vault or God ain't got it all, gangsta (do or die) I'm do or die, I'm do or die I dont know about you but i, be do or die I'm do or die, I'm do or die either God has got a vault or God ain't got it all, gangsta to do or to die, thats my options I chose do and I ain't stoppin it from the east to the west, its poppin clear the way when I come out, wit my gun out I'm committed to the Cross, I wont run out id rather be 6 feet deep sleep before retreat no defeat, all is obsolete when I pulls heat used to be from the set used to be down, used to get respect, but check day from the 2 to deaf die hard, went to pull thy card (??) rather die scarred, oh my Lord I got the keys, he gave me these get on my knees, been around them Doub-Double G's (??) these homies id ride fo, I cry fo and if it came down to it id die fo reject Christ, the penalty is death, genius and you can tell by my face that I mean this I'm do or die repeat chorus I'm do or die, Christ or crack you must learn that if I retreat and turn back that means I burn black took my Salvation lightly till it occurred to me that it was legions of demons tryin to murder me, hurt a G a Christian, not a victim to this crime rate they set it off now door die is my mind state either you gone do his will and step, and die cuz the wages of sin is death, ain't nothin left you cant be goin on like a sucka sayin "God I'm a trust ya" and back out like a busta satan knocked and said "Chill, let me in" I said "not by the hairs of my Chille Chill chin" win, lose, or draw, stand or fall cuz either God is got a vault or God ain't got it all, gangsta its a shame what the media do to a guy I told you last album I was do or die (do or die) I'm do or die, I'm do or die I dont know about you but i, be do or die I'm do or die, we do or die either God has got a vault or God ain't got it all, gangsta (do or die) I'm do or die, I'm do or die I dont know about you but i, be do or die we do or die, we do or die (fo now) either God has got a vault or God ain't got it all, gangsta wsup kid ?? whats happenin ?? whats up, jay cuz all right hey, we done crossed enemy lines, loc we in too deep now no turnin back we miss that coil, we do or die you do or die ?? yeah, I'm do or die, ain't no two litters about it couldnt deny it even if we tried it yeah they'll never catch me, never capture me until Jesus come back and Rapture me they cant capture me until Jesus comes to Rapture me they'll never catch me, never capture me until Jesus come back and Rapture me they'll never catch me, never capture me until Jesus come back and Rapture me

Fallout 3 question about Butch..? I just bought the game and played it for a while. During the part where your dad escapes the vault, Butch asks you to help him save his mom from radroaches, I helped him but after that, he starts shooting me with a BB gun so I kill him. Why the hell does he shoot me with the gun if i helped save his mom?

how bout this one? A BLOKE walked into a sperm bank wearing a ski mask and holding a gun, went up to the nurse and told her to open the vault. “But sir!” she said. “This is a sperm bank, there is nothing of value to you in there!” “I don’t care, just open it,” barked the bloke. The nurse opened the vault door and they went inside to where all the sperm samples were kept. “Now, take one of those sperm samples and drink it,” said the bloke. The nurse, fearing for her life, took a specimen jar and knocked back the contents. “Over there, drink those three as well,” commanded the gunman, and the nurse obediently swallowed down even more spoont. After she’d finished, the gunman pulled off his mask and said, “See, honey, it’s not that hard to do.”

Its not that hard(LOL)? A guy walks into a sperm donor bank wearing a ski mask and holding a gun. He goes up to the nurse and demands her to open the sperm bank vault. She says "But sir, its just a sperm bank!", "I don't care, open it now!!!" he replies. So she opens the door to the vault and inside are all the sperm samples. The guy says "Take one of those sperm samples and drink it!", she looks at him "BUT, they are sperm samples???" , "DO IT!". So the nurse sucks it back. "That one there, drink that one as well.", so the nurse drinks that one as well. Finally after 4 samples the man takes off his ski mask and says, "See honey - its not that hard."

joke...robbery? A guy walks into a $perm donor bank wearing a ski mask and holding a gun. He goes up to the nurse and demands her to open the $perm bank vault. She says "But sir, its just a $perm bank!", "I don't care, open it now!!!" he replies. So she opens the door to the vault and inside are all the $perm samples. The guy says "Take one of those $perm samples and drink it!", she looks at him "BUT, they are $perm samples???" , "DO IT!". So the nurse sucks it back. "That one there, drink that one as well.", so the nurse drinks that one as well. Finally after 4 samples the man takes off his ski mask and says, "See honey - its not that hard."

For all you fellas, thought that you would appreciate this.? A guy walks into a sperm donor bank wearing a ski mask and holding a gun. He goes up to the nurse and demands her to open the sperm bank vault. She says "But sir, its just a sperm bank!", "I don't care, open it now!!!" he replies. So she opens the door to the vault and inside are all the sperm samples. The guy says "Take one of those sperm samples and drink it!", she looks at him "BUT, they are sperm samples???" , "DO IT!". So the nurse sucks it back. "That one there, drink that one as well.", so the nurse drinks that one as well. Finally after 4 samples the man takes off his ski mask and says, "See honey - its not that hard."

short jokes - amusing or not? For my birthday I got a humidifier and a de-humidifier... I put them in the same room and let them fight it out... I recently moved into a new apartment, and there was this switch on the wall that didn't do anything... so anytime I had nothing to do, I'd just flick that switch up and down...up and down...up and down.... Then one day I got a letter from a woman in Germany...it just said, "Cut it out." I put instant coffee in my microwave oven and almost went back in time. I spilled spot remover on my dog and now he's gone. I collect rare photographs... I have one of Houdini locking his keys in his car. When I was a child... We had a quick-sand box in the backyard...... I was an only child........ Eventually. The lady across the hall tried to rob a department store... with a pricing gun... She said, "Give me all of the money in the vault, or I'm marking down everything in the store... I bought some batteries... but they weren't included... so I had to buy them again. I installed a skylight in my apartment.... The people who live above me are furious! I can remember the first time I had to go to sleep. Mum said, "Son, time to go to sleep" I said "But I don't know how." She said, "It's really easy. Just go down to the end of tired and turn left." So I went down to the end of tired, and just out of curiosity I turned right. My mother was there, and she said "I thought I told you to go to sleep."

the bank job!!!!!? A guy walks into a sperm donor bank wearing a ski mask and holding a gun. He goes up to the nurse and demands her to open the sperm bank vault. She says "But sir, its just a sperm bank!", "I don't care, open it now!!!" he replies. So she opens the door to the vault and inside are all the sperm samples. The guy says "Take one of those sperm samples and drink it!", she looks at him "BUT, they are sperm samples???" , "DO IT!". So the nurse sucks it back. "That one there, drink that one as well.", so the nurse drinks that one as well. Finally after 4 samples the man takes off his ski mask and says, "See honey - its not that hard."

Pls rate my story form 1-10? It was a normal day. Or so I thought. I had to go to the bank to see about a student loan that I needed. I got up, got dressed bushed my teeth did my hair and makeup. When I finally got to the bank there was a huge line up, just great I thought. I waited and waited and waited until finally only one person was left in front of me. The line behind me was about as big as when I had come in. I tapped my foot impatiently. I studied the woman in front of me she was in her mid 30’s a child had his arms rapped around her legs. I smiled at him, he hid his face in his mothers jeans. The man behind me was standing awfully close. I could feel his breath on my neck. I lifted the collar of my sweater so I couldn’t. ‘EVERY BODY GET DOWN’ I heard someone say then I herd the shot of a gun and I didn’t hesitate. I covered my head. The woman in front of me was acting like a force field to her son. Another yell came ‘Against the counter now all of you’ I did as I was told. People scrambling to come against the counter it was mayhem. I know saw that there was three men in black with masks on they all had shot guns in there hand. ‘All cell phones, guns pagers in the bag’ said the tallest one another one came around with a bag I quickly got out my cell phone and put it in when he came but. I caught a glimpse of his eyes. I wasn’t good at reading emotions but I could tell he was scared. I herd the cop cars come, for some reason I felt relived but I knew I shouldn’t. I had seen to many cop shows to know this wasn’t even close to the end. He went up to one of the clerks. ‘Where’s the manager?’ he asked. She selfishly gave him up and pointed to a short balding man. ‘Get up’ he said to the man pulling him up by his shirt. He pushed him into the other accomplice’s hands. ‘Lead him to the vault, and open it or else’ the manger nodded and lead the accomplice to a back room. The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. The man picked it up. ‘Hello’ he said with a smile ‘my demands? Simple. Just a free pass out of this country back to my home land Cuba’ I could here muffled talking on the other end ‘Sure’ he said still smiling ‘Send someone in, only one person and no weapons but I’ll let you know this I’m not changing my mind’ He hung up the phone. He looked at me. I felt fear rush through my body. He picked me up turned me around and held the gun to my head. I felt tears pour down my face. I saw my life flash in front of me. I didn’t know this man, but he seemed capable of murder. There was a knock at the door. ‘You’ he said pointing his gun to the child of the lady who was in front of me ‘Get it’ the child looked scared. But he got up and opened the door. A man came in he was tall buff and looked like he meant business. He looked at me. He walked forward slowly. The little boy was walking behind him. ‘Stop’ Said the man I could smell his breath, it smelled like peppermint. The other man stopped. The boy ran back to his mother. A dangerous move I thought. ‘Hello’ said the man ‘I’m officer Nova’ Nobody spoke it was dead quiet ‘Just give me what I want’ said the man ‘Or I’ll kill every person in this place’ He put the gun tighter to my head. I stopped breathing. Any second I thought and I’ll be gone. Gone forever. ‘What’s your name?’ officer nova asked me ‘Jeeeennny’ I stuttered ‘Jenny’ he smiled ‘Give me a hostage’ he said to the man ‘Give me jenny’ Yes please I thought. Please god get me out of here ‘No’ said the man ‘Just one’ said officer nova ‘Please’ I said that made the man laugh ‘Fine’ said the man and I got a glimpse at hope ‘Take the kid though and while you’re out there find out if my demands are ready yet’ my hope faded and I got even scareder. Officer Nova took the child and left. The accomplice and the manager came back. They both had a huge bag full of money in there hand. ‘Please Jarred’ said the other accomplice who had taken my cell phone ‘Lets just leave, bank robberies not as bad as murder you can get off easy.’ ‘Shut it’ said Jarred he took the gun from my hand and shot the boy. I closed my eyes when I herd the shot. Jarred and the other accomplice just laughed. I cried. ‘It will be you next’ he whispered into my ear ‘If you don’t shut up’ that shut me up. Five minutes later Officer Nova came back. ‘How’s my Demands coming?’ asked Jarred Officer Nova looked at the boy on the floor. ‘Let me take him and I’ll tell you’ ‘No’ said Jarred you tell me now’ ‘You let me take him or no deal’ Jarred stared at him thinking ‘Fine’ he finally said ‘Take the little prat, but be back in five or I kill the girl’ I didn’t think I could possibly get more scared but I did. This was it the end. The world could go on with out me. I hoped my parents wouldn’t morn over my death that was the one thing I feared their unhappiness. Officer Nova came back. Thank goodness I thought. Though I didn’t feel any better. ‘Now’ said Jarred ‘My demands’ ‘Sorry’ Officer Nova ‘Not gunna happen’

Fallout 3 escape help? im having trouble on fallout 3 escape mission its the one where you escape from vault 101 i have no pistol ammo i have a bb gun and fists are my only weapons 3 bars of health and when i turn on there is a gaurd beating the crap out of meand i can only run away from him if i run back to where a need to be i get attacked by about 10-15 radroaches! do i have to start again or is there someway i can pass it! o and i dont have any decent armour and no healing items

Here are some jokes to help you get through the night!!? The newlyweds are in their honeymoon room and the groom decides to let the bride know where she stands right from the start of the marriage. He proceeds to take off his trousers and throw them at her. He says, "Put those on." The bride replies, "I can't wear your trousers." He replies, "And don't forget that! I will always wear the pants in the family!" The bride takes off her knickers and throws them at him with the same request, "Try those on!" He replies,"I can't get into your knickers!" "And you never bloody will if you don't change your attitude." --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- There was an elderly man who wanted to make his younger wife pregnant. So, he went to the doctor to have a sperm count done. The doctor told him to take a specimen cup home, fill it, and bring it back the next day. The elderly man came back the next day and the specimen cup was empty and the lid was on it. Doctor: What was the problem? Elderly man: Well, you I tried with my right hand...nothing. So, I tried with my left hand...nothing. My wife tried with her right hand...nothing. Her left hand...nothing. Her mouth...nothing. Then my wife's friend tried. Right hand, left hand, mouth....still nothing. Doctor: Wait a minute. You mean your wife's friend too?! Elderly man: Yeah, and we still couldn't get the lid off of the specimen cup. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A guy walks into a sperm donor bank wearing a ski mask and holding a gun. He goes up to the nurse and demands her to open the sperm bank vault. She says "But sir, its just a sperm bank!", "I don't care, open it now!!!" he replies. So she opens the door to the vault and inside are all the sperm samples. The guy says "Take one of those sperm samples and drink it!", she looks at him "BUT, they are sperm samples???" , "DO IT!". So the nurse sucks it back. "That one there, drink that one as well.", so the nurse drinks that one as well. Finally after 4 samples the man takes off his ski mask and says, "See honey - its not that hard." --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This beautiful woman one day walks into a doctors office and the doctor is bowled over by how stunningly awesome she is. All his professionallism goes right out the window... He tells her to take off her pants, she does, and he starts rubbing her thighs. "Do you know what I am doing?" asks the doctor? "Yes, checking for abnormalities." she replies. He tells her to take off her shirt and bra, she takes them off. The doctor begins rubbing her breasts and asks, "Do you know what I am doing now?", she replies, "Yes, checking for cancer." Finally, he tells her to take off her panties, lays her on the table, gets on top of her and starts having sex with her. He says to her, "Do you know what I am doing now?" She replies, "Yes, getting herpies - thats why I am here!"

typical of men......? A guy walks into a sperm donor bank wearing a ski mask and holding a gun. He goes up to the nurse and demands her to open the sperm bank vault. She says "But sir, its just a sperm bank!", "I don't care, open it now!!!" he replies. So she opens the door to the vault and inside are all the sperm samples. The guy says "Take one of those sperm samples and drink it!", she looks at him "BUT, they are sperm samples???" , "DO IT!". So the nurse sucks it back. "That one there, drink that one as well.", so the nurse drinks that one as well. Finally after 4 samples the man takes off his ski mask and says, "See honey - its not that hard."

Please rate my story from 1-10? Here's part one of my story, i will try to put part two up but if it doesn't work and you want to read more just go to my profile and look at me questions it will be there anyways here it is: It was a normal day. Just like any other day, I got up got ready. I had to go to the bank to see about a student loan that I needed. Traffic was horrendous. It took man an hour to get to the bank instead of the usual half an hour. When I finally got to the bank there was a huge line up, just great I thought. I waited and waited and waited until finally only one person was left in front of me. I looked behind me; the line was about as big as when I had came in. I tapped my foot impatiently. I studied the woman in front of me she was in her mid 30’s, a child had his arms rapped around her legs. I smiled at him, he hid his face in his mothers jeans. The man behind me was talking loudly on his cell phone. It just annoyed me more. I hated coming to the bank. It was so annoying. ‘EVERYBODY GET DOWN’ I heard someone yell I didn’t hesitate. A gunshot echoed in my ears, Fear ran through me, all my senses disappeared. I covered my head. The woman in front of me was acting like a force field to her son. Covering him protecting him from harm. Another yell came ‘Against the counter now all of you’ I did as I was told. People were scrambling everywhere, it was kayos. I know saw that there were three men all dressed in Cloths as black as night. They each had a mask on with only eyeholes. In each of there hands were a shotgun I shuttered when I saw them. ‘All cell phones, guns pagers in the bag’ said the tallest one. The smallest one who looked like a boy, came around with a bag. I quickly got out my cell phone and put it in when he came. I caught a glimpse of his eyes. I wasn’t good at reading emotions but I could tell he was scared. I herd the Sirens, The sound of relief, but I had seen to many cop shows to know this wasn’t even close to the end. The tallest guy went up to one of the clerks. ‘Where’s the manager?’ he asked. She selfishly gave him up and pointed to a short balding man. ‘Get up’ he said to the man pulling him up by his shirt. He pushed him into the third accomplice’s hands. ‘Lead him to the vault, and open it or else’ he told the manager the manger nodded and lead the accomplice to a back room. The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. The tall man picked it up. ‘Hello’ he said with a smile ‘my demands? Simple. Just a free pass out of this country back to my homeland Cuba’ I could hear muffled talking on the other end. ‘Sure’ he said still smiling ‘Send someone in, only one person and no weapons but I’ll let you know this I’m not changing my mind’ He hung up the phone. He looked at me. I wanted to faint at least then I wouldn’t have to feel this fear. He picked me up turned me around and held the gun to my head. I felt tears pour down my face. I saw my life flash in front of me. I didn’t know this man, but he seemed capable of murder. There was a knock at the door. ‘You’ he said pointing his gun to the child of the lady who was in front of me ‘Get it’ the child looked scared. But he got up and opened the door. A man came in he was tall buff and looked like he meant business. He looked at me. He walked forward slowly. The little boy was walking behind him. ‘Stop’ Said the tall man his peppermint breath burnt into my skin. The other man stopped. The boy ran back to his mother. A dangerous move I thought. ‘Hello’ said the man ‘I’m officer Nova’ Nobody spoke it was dead quiet. Fear filled the room. ‘Just give me what I want’ said the man ‘Or I’ll kill every person in this place’ He put the gun tighter to my head. I stopped breathing. Any second I thought and I’ll be gone. Gone forever. ‘What’s your name?’ officer nova asked me ‘Jeeeennny’ I managed to get out ‘Jenny’ he smiled ‘Give me a hostage’ he said to the tall man ‘Give me jenny’ Yes please I thought. Please god get me out of here ‘No’ said the man. Please gods please. ‘Just one’ said officer nova ‘Please’ I said that made the tall man laugh ‘Fine’ said the man and I got a glimpse at hope ‘Take the kid’ he said pointing to the boy my hope faded and the full strength of my fear returned. ‘And while you’re out there find out if my demands are ready yet’ Officer Nova took the child and left. The accomplice and the manager came back. They both had a huge bag full of money in there hand. ‘Please Jarred’ said the other accomplice who had taken my cell phone ‘Lets just leave, bank robberies not as bad as murder you can get off easy.’ ‘Shut it’ said Jarred he took the gun from my head and shot the boy. I closed my eyes when I herd the shot. Jarred and the other accomplice just laughed. I cried. ‘It will be you next’ he whispered into my ear ‘If you don’t shut up’ that shut me up. Five minutes later Officer Nova came back. ‘How’s my Demands coming?’ asked Jarred. Officer Nova looked at the boy on the floor. ‘Le

joke from kim? A guy walks into a sperm donor bank wearing a ski mask and holding a gun. He goes up to the nurse and demands her to open the sperm bank vault. She says "But sir, its just a sperm bank!", I dont care, open it now!!!" he replies. So she opens the door to the vault and inside are all the sperm samples. The guy says "Take one of those sperm samples and drink it!", She looks at him "But , they are sperm samples???", "Do it!". So the nurse sucks it back. "That one there, drink that one as well.", So the nurse drinks that one as well. Finally after 4 samples the man takes off his ski mask and says, "See honey- its not that hard."

~lol what ever it takes right~? A guy walks into a sperm donor bank wearing a ski mask and holding a gun. He goes up to the nurse and demands her to open the sperm bank vault. She says "But sir, its just a sperm bank!", "I don't care, open it now!!!" he replies. So she opens the door to the vault and inside are all the sperm samples. The guy says "Take one of those sperm samples and drink it!", she looks at him "BUT, they are sperm samples???" , "DO IT!". So the nurse sucks it back. "That one there, drink that one as well.", so the nurse drinks that one as well. Finally after 4 samples the man takes off his ski mask and says, "See honey - its not that hard."

Are my lyrics good???? Hopped in the crown vic with the shit so sick. Police car crusin, but all my felonies legit Ghost ride the whip, no, ghost ride my dick. Went to the hood just to holler at a bitch. Fuck you hoe, I'll take all you cash. With a double loaded shotty, ready to blast. Fuck a prostitute, I get plenty of ass. because I got money and a whole lotta class. Roll up a blunt of that fire ass chronic. Hooked on my shit like you hooked on phonics. It's not ironic, that's just the realness. Because thizzin ain't nothin compared to feelin this. I got money to spend and i'm only eighteen. When I hop out my ride and enter the scene. I'll do anything to get appreciated and noticed. As I get on the track, it is time to focus. Don't give a fuck cause I'm a true player Don't give a fuck cause I'm a true player Don't give a fuck cause I'm a true player And a gun on my waist, cause i'm a pussy slayer My dick like my gun, 20 bullets in the clip. And the chambers gonna bust when i stick it in your lips. So fly and confident like a real pimp. If you on my team, then expect a dollar tip. Compared to pussy, ain't nothing worth havin. When somebody trips, my reaction is laughin. Hustle in this game and you will get touched. By a imposter thats swears he's more tough. either lay down or go hella kamikaze. Because no motherfucka is ever gonna stop me. Rap game is pitiful, your style is sloppy. like a nasty ass hoe sliddin on top me. Might as well get high, ain't go shit to do. Cause people congradulate when I come through. Fuck with one and you fuck with our crew. We take everything from your wallet to your shoes. Don't give a fuck cause I'm a true player Don't give a fuck cause I'm a true player Don't give a fuck cause I'm a true player And a gun on my waist, cause i'm a pussy slayer Whats that sticky residue on your face? touch me like you want me to penetrate. I'ma fly baller, people love to hate. cause thier confidence is their real disgrace. Stack money higher than a vaulted ceilin' No comparison to what i mood I'm feelin. At the main set chillin like a villian. Phat loaded pockets from workin hard and dealin. With alot hard work comes a whole lot a scrilla. Don't give up the game until you make a milla. gotta keep a cold heart like a serial killa. Becuase they try to claim that I ain't reala. Than pussy ass tricks like soldier boy ohhh. Put him on the corner and he gets on like a hoe. So I back all the bullshit that I've been talkin. Ima end up a true player or dying in a coffin. Don't give a fuck cause I'm a true player Don't give a fuck cause I'm a true player Don't give a fuck cause I'm a true player And a gun on my waist, cause i'm a pussy slayer

my random steam of consciousness poem, how does it sound? and our people goin crazy makes us lazy all the time while we rhyme for us to cope while all the dope seems to be, while our rings glisten to the listen and the beams in the streams call our name but in vain to the wall down the hall for the god who holds his calls and the fault of the vault tells our demons who are feeling rather down even clowns start to be rather mean for the sun starts to melt on our felt the pool balls try to go where they're thrown in the pockets or the sockets of the cars that fly by in the calling dark night sky, we must be more than we seem to our fears and our ears hear our rattle but still we prattle, on and on to the gun that endlessly points our way, but in the fray we arent lost but to the frost, so here we stand we file wash our hands, of our sins, we put in bins and ship away, god put us here or so they say, but i dont know, because our reason seems to listen not to us but to others, and it makes us less than mad but other puppies tired and sad, masters slaves, to the knaves and fiery braves that makes us gods in our own worlds, yet our powers seem to twirl, and we sit here on the lawn, feeling everything since dawn but our shaking is only making him more nervous than the water falling from his gun, and his face tears and sweats while he swears at the vets that we're not trained but thinking clear, more than anything hes had before, the tears roll down our faces as he tells us stay in your places, always line one by one, never some, never none, starting tails of cleansy veils steal demons and still our feelings are our own but never two, only one, we are the same but always different clearly glad but our decision makes us more than we can bear so we just sit right here and stare into the face of a man who tells when to sit and when to stand, but never more and never less, always stuck here in this mess, always one never two, let us go our endless coo, come and sit or to stand, guide with your voice and not your hand, there is no need for grips of vice, coming, going flies, so here we sit or there they stand plussing minus, minus glad, or minus terror without fear, divide a smile with a tear, hear a song, sing a whistle, leave us be, this drumming tune reverberates from moon to moon, and here we sit or and there they stand, no more thought than closing clam, in our heart we know its true, though they say the same thing about you, making more of life on earth, has its cost but a new birth in existence, seems to make us more resistant to the trouble that lies ahead, so now he tells us to go to bed, but sleep will come when sleep is ready, and still he yells there shake and steady, feeling nothing making more than a big deal absolutely nothing for, but here we sit and there they stand making life as always grand as more than we could ever do, and it means much more to you, than keeping safe in hearth and home, and we read these musty tome, the words just roll right off our laps and are picked up by the running sap, from the tree that hangs nearby, seeming always happy for the sky, but today it must be, filled with anger and not glee, it seems to say much more than nay, it must yell so that the depths of hell can hear it muster stutter shutter, at the man with the water gun, and his threats mean to us a strong round sun, will never see us more than now, and some cry out with tremulous fear, why o lord hath thou forsaken thee? and i just sit hear smiling, heavily, to feel them shake and shivver so, when its i not them that know, there very plausibly is no higher power more than me, so see them breathe and dance as such, makes a very oddly bunch, and so we sit and there they stand, making more of a life so grand.

Why she left her husband...? A woman is going about her work in a bank, minding her own business. All of a sudden, a man walks in wearing a ski mask with a gun in his hand. He approaches the counter, points it at her and says: "Alright, open the vault!" "But this is a sperm bank, we don't keep money in the vault!" "Alright, open the safe and pull out a sample!" "But..." "JUST DO IT!!!" She opens the safe, and pulls out a little vial of seed. "Alright, now drink it!!" "What!?" "DRINK IT!!!" She drinks it. "Now drink another." She does. After wards, the man pulls off his mask, revealing himself to be her husband. "Now, was that so bad?" Two brothers, ages ten and eight, are in their upstairs bedroom, playing with matchbox cars. The ten-year-old says: "You know what? We're old enough now, we should be able to start using swear words. Why don't we start in the morning?" His brother agrees, and they both go to bed. The next morning, their mother calls them and asks: "Alright boys, what do you want to have for breakfast?" The ten year old says: "Hmm... what the f#$k, i think I'll have french toast." Immediately, his mother pulls out a paddle and starts hitting him with it. She smacks him repeatedly with it and sends him up to his room without breakfast. She turns to the other and says: "What do YOU want for breakfast?" "I dunno, but you can bet your f#$king @$$ I don't want any french toast." Three guys die and go to hell: a white guy, a chinese guy, and a black guy. Satan stands before them and says: "Alright, I've run out of room, so I'm going to let you guys go. But first, I have to punish you in some way. Put your d***s in my hand." The white guy does it, and Satan makes it melt right off of his crotch. The chinese guy does it, and it melts right off, but when the black guy does it, nothing happens. Satan asks: "What the hell? Why isn't it working?" The black guy responds: "Didn't your mother ever teach you? Chocolate melts in your mouth, not in your hands."

yotryuuytuyiououo? The Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny Old Godzilla was hopping around Tokyo City like a big playground when suddenly Batman burst from the shade and hit Godzilla with a Batgrenade Godzilla got pissed and began to attack but didn't expect to be blocked by Shaq who proceeded to open up a can of Shaq Fu when Aaron Carter came out of the blue and he started beating up Shaquille O'Neal then they both got flattened by the Batmobile but before it could make it back to the Batcave Abraham Lincoln popped out of his grave and took an AK47 out from under his hat and blew Batman away with a rat-a-tat-tat but he ran out of bullets and he ran away because Optimus Prime came to save the day this is the Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny good guys, bad guys, and explosions as far as the eye can see and only one will survive, I wonder who it will be this is the Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny Godzilla took a bite out of Optimus Prime like Scruff McGruff took a bite out of crime and then Shaq came back covered in a tire track but Jackie Chan jumped out and landed on his back and Batman was injured, and trying to get steady when Abraham Lincoln came back with a machete but suddenly something caught his leg and he tripped Indiana Jones took him out with his whip then he saw Godzilla sneaking up from behind and he reached for his gun which he just couldn't find 'cause Batman stole it and he shot and he missed and Jackie Chan deflected it with his fist then he jumped in the air and did a summersault while Abraham Lincoln tried to pole vault onto Optimus Prime, but they collided in the air then they both got hit by a Care Bear Stare, oooh this is the Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny good guys, bad guys, and explosions as far as the eye can see and only one will survive, I wonder who it will be this is the Ultimate Showdown... angels sang out in immaculate chorus down from the heavens descended Chuck Norris who deliver a kick which could shatter bones into the crotch of Indiana Jones who fell over on the ground, writhing in pain as Batman changed back into Bruce Wayne but Chuck saw through his clever disguise and he crushed Batman's head in between his thighs then Gandalf the Grey and Gandalf the White and "Monty Python and the Holy Grail"'s Black Knight and Benito Mussolini and The Blue Meanie and Cowboy Curtis and Jambi the Genie Robocop, the Terminator, Captain Kirk, and Darth Vader Lo Pan, Superman, every single Power Ranger Bill S. Preston and Theodore Logan, Spock, The Rock, Doc Ock, and Hulk Hogan all came out of no where lightning fast and they kicked Chuck Norris in his cowboy ass it was the bloodiest battle the world ever saw with civilians looking on total awe and the fight raged on for a century many lives were claimed, but eventually the champion stood, the rest saw their better: Mr. Rogers in a bloodstained sweater this is the Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny good guys, bad guys, and explosions as far as the eye can see and only one will survive, I wonder who it will be this is the Ultimate Showdown... this is the Ultimate Showdown... this is the Ultimate Showdown... of Ultimate Destiny

Does the dark knight contain clues on the riddler, penguin and catwoman? In a logical and quite brilliant piece of deduction, it's been suggested that characters in the Batman blockbuster The Dark Knight have been set up to become the villains Penguin, Riddler and Catwoman. A commenter on The Geek Files has found possible clues in the film that indicate William Fichtner (right) could become the Penguin and that Joshua Harto's role is set to evolve into the Riddler. He also theorises that Bruce Wayne's Russian ballerina girlfriend Natascha, played by Beatrice Rosen, will become Catwoman. Fichtner played the gun-toting bank manager who encountered the Joker in the opening robbery sequence, while Harto was Coleman Reese, a Wayne Enterprises employee who believed he'd figured out Batman and Bruce were one and the same. This is unproven speculation of course, but it has a lot more logic than most of the online 'reports' where various names are randomly thrown into the air. The commenter, called Brozic, recently added their views to an earlier article I'd written on villain possibilities for the next instalment. Brozic said: "The actors have already been decided and revealed in the Dark Knight." Read on to find out more! He explains: "Look at the clues: Joshua Harto (pictured left, who played Coleman Reese) is the Riddler. The scene with him planning to blackmail Bruce Wayne is where he develops his hatred for both Batman and Bruce Wayne. Not only this, but his name is Mr. Reese... "Mysteries". An alias of the Riddler." "Next, the Penguin. William Fichtner. Disregard his bird-like appearance and there's still an abundance of clues. To start with, he's too good of an actor to be signed solely for two minutes as a bank owner. "Secondly, while breaking into the vault, one of the guys mentions that it's a 'mob bank'. Penguin, in his original role, and in Batman: The Animated Series, is a mob leader. "Thirdly, he gets shot in the leg which explains the Penguin's limp (meaning his waddling walk?). And finally, the Joker foreshadows the change when he says, "What doesn't kill you makes you stranger", alluding to a change in the bank manager." Brozic adds that he believes Batman's girlfriend Natascha (Beatrice Rosen, right) will become Catwoman. He said: "This one is not nearly as clear.. but it seems to fit. Natascha, the Russian ballerina that Bruce Wayne is dating, fits the romance between Batman and Catwoman's aliases, and also the Russian portrayal of Catwoman in the Adam West television series. The ballerina idea also helps the idea of why she would be light on her feet and acrobatic." Of course, there's plenty of other speculation going around. Comments by producer Charles Roven regarding Heath Ledger's Joker that "we have to separate the actors from the role" have been interpreted to mean that another actor could play the archvillain, while Aaron Eckhart spoke about his role as Harvey Dent/Two-Face to MTV, saying: "I think Harvey - if he's not dead - is in a serious coma, and I'm not sure he's coming out. They might pull the plug on him.." That was interpreted by some sites to mean Two-Face is coming back. I'm going to dismiss the Joker and Two-Face ideas because a) the quotes are being made to mean something they never said b) it would cheapen the first movie if Dent came back c) it's time for other villains d) fanboys are always unable to let go, I've seen this so often with other films (the X-Men franchise in particular)

Hold Um Up!!? A guy walks into a sperm donor bank wearing a ski mask and holding a gun. He goes up to the nurse and demands her to open the sperm bank vault. She says "But sir, its just a sperm bank!", "I don't care, open it now!!!" he replies. So she opens the door to the vault and inside are all the sperm samples. The guy says "Take one of those sperm samples and drink it!", she looks at him "BUT, they are sperm samples???" , "DO IT!". So the nurse sucks it back. "That one there, drink that one as well.", so the nurse drinks that one as well. Finally after 4 samples the man takes off his ski mask and says, "See honey - its not that hard."

Is this a good horror story? Into the Swamp The muddy, thick water was still below the rotted trees, the top of which seemed to block out the night sky. Haunting sounds rang through the darkness of the swamp, as the fog swept over the dreary land, setting an uncomforting mood. The ground was almost pure mud, mold covered the majority of it. A certain sick feel lived inside the swamp, which had no name. No human lived within 10 miles of it, and hardly anyone ever went in, for there was no purpose. Few animals lived in the area near regular land. Riley Black stumbled into this setting clutching a shotgun in his right hand and his injured right shoulder in his left hand. On his back was a carry on bag filled with $500,000, shotgun shells, and a flashlight. He limped, feeling as if he was too dizzy to continue, and he was going to collapse. A couple dozen yards in, he reached a dreary, cold body of water, and on the muddy banks of which sat an old, wooden ferry boat. It looked as if it wasn't able to stay afloat in the water. It creaked in an uncomfortable manner as Black put his left foot in. He sat down slowly, grabbed the oar, and set off. The wood on the boat, much like the trees in the swamp, was dead and rotted. He could barely see through the fog, but none the less, the oar continued to make it's way slowly through the muggy waters. He glanced up at the the tree tops as the boat skimmed through the water. Crows soared furiously through the foggy air, screaming at one another. His concentration was broken by a small tug on the oar. He looked down at the water. Moments passed. Nothing. Just as he started to continue, a figure leaped out of the water and clutched to the side of the ferry boat. Black looked over at what was trying to climb on to the boat. His body went still as he stared into the face of a decomposed, human-like creature. It's face was rotted away and boney, with green, dead skin. It's teeth were clearly visible through it's almost absent mouth. It's right eye was popped out more so than the left, and it's nose was just dead skin that wrapped tighly around the nose bone. It had a small amount of grey hair atop it's head. It made it's way onto the boat, revealing a skeleton like figure bundled up in old clothes much like a bum would wear. It gave a loud, horrifying, high-pitched shriek as it lunged toward Black. He snapped out of his trance and quickly grabbed the shotgun. He aimed and fired, hitting it right between the eyes. The creature fell off the boat and sank back into the water. He put the gun down and stared at the spot the monster had just stood. Sweat dripped down his face, and he breathed uncontrollably. "I heard a gunshot over there!" said a voice from the entrance of the swamp. "Aw Christ. How'd they track me?" he thought. He picked up the oar and paddled as fast as he could. Within minutes, he reached the opposite bank. He hopped out of the boat and into the mud, which was about four inches deep. Gathering his stuff together, he looked around , thinking about his direction. He walked a a bit aways further. "You lost?" said a woman's voice. Black turned to see a smiling old woman in a sundress and hat. Both the items she was wearing were covered in a flower covered pattern, which definately didn't match the place she wasin. Black's temper quickly came into play, for he was greatly impatient at the moment, but before he could say anything, she interuptted him. "The cabin your lookin' for is just o'er that direction" said the woman pointing, then she turned and walked down a muddy path. Black turned to see an old cabin. "That was not there before. Who ar-". She was gone. "That's impossible!", He thought, frantically looking around the path she had traveled. He stood there for a moment before shaking it off and heading towards the cabin. * * * Earlier that day, in the City Diner in a small town in Louisiana, Jackie Randle sat waiting and enjoying his burger. Randle was a tall, pale guy with a ragged look to him. His old, paint covered Pantera shirt and ripped jeans didn't say much about him. He finished his food and leaned back. "I hope this guy Hanley's bringin' is good. He obviously sucks at arrivin' on time, I don't think he's that responsable to pull somethin' off like this." he thought. Just then, a man in jeans and a plad shirt walked in to the quiet lttle diner. He was a regular sized guy, handsome face and combed back hair. He looked like a dirty man. one who cared little about hygene. It looked like he wasn't sure about what he was doing. He had certain nervousness about him. Randle looked up, "Guess you're the guy I'm lookin' for?". The man show a toothy grin said,"I guess so. You Jackie Randle?". Randle nodded and stuck his hand out. The man shook his hand pleasently and sat at the opposite seat in the booth. "You gonna order anything? You Hungry?", asked Randle. Almost insantly the man replied, "No. I'm just here to get the plan together. Nothing else." Randle hesitated before nodding. "Where's Hanley?" asked the man, who for some reason seemed to be getting impatient. "He'll meet us there," They sat there for an hour going over notes. Randle said, starting to wrap it up," So let's go over the plan, Hanley'll walk into the bank, gun in pocket, and sit in the waiting area. You'll walk in and go up to the tellar farthest from the front door. That's when I walk in and and immediatly take out the security gaurds. You stick up that tellar there and tell 'em to open the vault. Hanley'll come into play if anyone trys to get near us, in which he'll pick off the gaurd or whoever's tryin' to be a hero. We'll improvise after we get out of there, but Hanley's bringing his car and he's got an old cabin out in a swamp about a half an hour from here. You got it?" The man nodded and asked "We're supposed to be there in twenty minutes. I got the guns in my trunk and we can walk from here, it's only three blocks." Randle gave a thumbs up. "Man, this guy's weird, but he seems to know what he's doing. I'm not gonna question Hanley. This guy- wait what's his name?" He thought. "Excuse me, uh, guy?" Randle said catching up with him,"What's you're name? We've been talking for like an hour and I still don't know". The sharply dressed man hesitated, then looked up ,"Black. Riley Black." * * * The fog seemed to grow thicker, and Black knew it was only a matter of time before those cops found him. He immediatly went to the corner of the two story cabin's first floor and sat down. He sat down and pulled out a pocket knife. He took a long breath before sinking it into the hole in his right shoulder. He let out a silent scream as blood seeped out and down his arm, and within ten seconds, the bloody bullet fell to the filthy cabin floor. He then cut off part of his shirt and wrapped it around the already festering wound. He checked the bag to make sure the goods were still there and he quickly yanked up the shotgun and went up the stairs. There were four empty bedrooms upstairs, all of which had the same feel as the swamp. The cabin was hundreds of years old and hadn't been inhabited for about fifty years. He stood at the broken window and waited for about ten minutes before the two cops found the cabin. One stayed outside and and the other quietly went in. Black squinted and pointed the end of the shotgun out the window and and picked the cop off. The bullet went into his heart. Black quickly turned to the bedroom door and waited for cop two to come rollin' through the door. Since he had shot the other cop, cop two was surely on his way. As soon as he came through the door, he was on the ground and bleeding from the neck. Black walked over to the dying man and looked down at him. He raised the gun, aimed, looked away, and fired. Blood was now all over the walls of the little bedroom. Black wiped the blood off his face and sat in the far corner of the room near a closet. The closet was locked and Black was a little too shooken up to go looking around in the old house. Darkness wasn't far off, the fog was still holding strong. He began to get dizzy, his head started to wobble. He passed out right there in the corner. "Wake up!" Black heard the voice of Hanley. He blinked a few times before looking across the room. There stood Randle and Hanley. They had a lantern with them and two guns, and that was about it. "What's wrong with you?", yelled Hanley,"Killing the cops and not disposing of the bodies or their boat! You and Randle go fix it, now!" Black stood up, anger boiling inside of him,"Why in God's name would you ever choose this swamp? I had a zombie-thing leap outta the water like Jason, I saw a ghost woman just walkin' around in the swamp, I- I'm freakin' out here!" Hanley, looking annoyed, said "You're just a little worked up. Now do what I said." Black moved towards the dooor and turned around. "Watch him!" said Black and he walked out of the room. Hanley looked greatly confused. Randle and Black walked down the stairs. Black noticed that they had hung lanterns up in nearly ever room of the cabin, including the backdoor where the cop came through. They walked out that same backdoor and stopped. "Black, I'll go do somethin' with the boat, you go do somethin' with Robocop over near the tree." He watched Randle walk into the black with his lantern. He fished for his flashlight in his front pocket and proceeded out of the lantern's light. He walked over to the cop's body, but stop after almost stepping on a dead rabbit. He looked down and studied it. It's flesh was half gone and it was missing a back leg. He got a bit closer and squinted. The rabbit's body twitched! He jumped slightly back, but then felt kinda stupid. Just then, the rabbit began to twitch violently, then it stopped. It rose up on it's three remaining legs. Black backed up and followed the rabbit with the light, and he watched as it hopped over to the cop's body. It paused for a moment before looking at Black and then grabbing the cop's collar by the mouth and somehow dragging it far off into the woods. Black stood there in absolute shock. The moment was then broken by Randle's screaming. Black quickly ran over to the water bank to see all three boats and Randle sinking rapidly in the mud. Black lunged forward to grab his hand, but was stopped as the mud began to move, as if something was crawling through it. Suddenly, a figure of mud began to form from the ground up. It stood, pure mud, about ten feet tall. It had no facial features, it was just a basic human-like shape. It looked up at the moon and a mouth began to open up, letting out a peircing howl. Black shot at the mud monster, but the bullets did nothing but get lost in the figure. It looked down and let it's body fall on Randle and the boats, all of them disappearing, drowning in the deep, deep mud. Then, the muddy waterside returned to how it was before any soul had touched. It regained it's normal shape. The swamp grew silent. The fog stopped dead in the air. Black stood in one spot, trying to collect his thoughts. He looked up at the spot where Randle met his demise. His eyes grew wide at what was now happening. He screamed as the water began to move, as figures arose. Creatures, much like the one Black dealt with on the ferry boat, limped out of the water. The creatures caught site of Black and headed in his direction. They all very much resembled his ferry boat friend. Rotted flesh, bolging eyes, skeleton figures. Moaning. Dazed. They were zombies. He turned and ran toward the cabin as fast as he could manage to move. He began to slow down when he heard the voice of a woman singing. A dreary, beautiful voice filling the air. He couldn't make out the words. He looked over to the area of the sound, where he saw the woman in the sundress slowly walking and singing. She stopped and turned to him. His spine began to shake and the hair on his body stood up. She smiled for a moment, before her now transparent body began to quiver and fall to the ground. Her flesh began to fpeel away from her bones, leaving a skeleton in a sundress lying in am pile flesh. Then within a split second, it disappeared. He hesitated and continued towards the cabin. "Hanley we gotta get outta here now!" He said running up the stairs. He ran into the room, but was stopped at the sight of the the corpse of the cop feeding off of Hanley. "Man, Hanley, I told you to watch him." He said raising the shotgun. The corpse looked up at him. It had not yet rotted like the other zombies, but it still had those menacing bolging eyes. It hissed at him, right before taking a bullet to the forehead. He walked over to Hanley's body and put a bullet in it's head before it could change into one of those things. He peered out the window. The zombies stumbled toward the back door and into the cabin. He decided to wait out night and swim, seeing as how all three boats were under water. He'd sit in his corner of the room and pick off whatever came through that door. He had enough ammo to take down hundreds of them, and he had all the time in the world. * * * The 1978 corvette flew down the road. So fast the cop cruisers barely kept up. Randle sat in the passenger seat, turning around after every reload to shoot at the cop cars through the shattered back window. Black sat in the back doing the same while Hanley drove. "Where's the swamp?" Black asked reaching for more ammo. "Well, I didn't think they'd keep up like this, so one of you two has to get the loot and tuck and roll at the next sharp turn. The swamp entrance is marked by a tree with a red spray painted X. Get in the swamp, there's two ferry boats. Take one across the water, cause that only way to get to and back from the otherside, and get to the cabin. It's about a ten minute walk from the opposite bank." Hanley said quickly. Black sighed "I'll do i-" but was interupted when a bullet hit him in the shoulder. He grabbed his arm and fell below the window. "They got me! They got me bad!". He looked down at his arm, which was pouring blood everywhere. He moaned in pain looked up a the ceiling of the car. "Can you still do this?" asked Hanley. "Yeah, yeah, just give me a second!" he cried still looking at the ceiling. "We don't have a second! We're turning now!" yelled Hanley. "Ok!" Black responded as he struggled up to the broken back window. Randle tossed him the bag with the money and Black grabbed his gun. They turned in an area where trees blocked the cops view of them, and vice versa. "It's now or never" he thought, and he lept from the back of the car, rolling into a ditch on the side of the road. * * * Riley Black sat in the corner of the abandoned swamp cabin, picking off every zombie that poked it's head through the door. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was a mess, and he'd sat in that corner for the past few hours, just shooting. The amount of them calmed down, eventually, there were none coming through the bedroom doorway. He sat for a minute before rising and walking to the window. Daylight was soon coming. He walked to the doorway and looked down the steps. Nothing. He walked outside. Nothing was there. It was if everything had stopped. He walked over to the side of the water. "You're gonna die in here, Riley, but it's you're only chance." he muttured to himself. He put the shotgun in the bag, trigger out, and slung it on his back. He took the longest breath he ever took and dived in the water. It was about a ten minute boat ride, so he knew he;d be swimming for awhile. He swam for ten minutes without any truoble. The sudden hault of all these horrid events worried him, but this peace didn't last for long. In an instant, the sky melted into pitch black, and with the already hard to see through fog, he felt lost within the middle of the water. He stopped and doggy paddled to keep afloat. He looked around frantically in the dark, until his eyes stopped upon a light in the fog. He waited for a moment, as an empty ferry baot with a lantern on the pole float towards him. "This is the swamp playin' tricks on me." He thought "But once again, no choice at all." He pulled himself up on the boat and looked around. Nothing strange. He grabbed the oar and paddled faster than he'd ever paddled before. He came within sight of the bank he first entered the water on. He remained very alert, looking around at everything in his path. He reached land, grabbed the lantern, and quickly fled throughthe swamp. "This is way to easy of an escape." he thought in fear. He reached the entrance of the swamp and for the first time in about twelve hours, he smiled. He was yards from freedom of the horrific events that took place here. Suddenly, his foot was caught on something. He quickly glanced down to see a hand breaking through the Earth and clutching tightly to his ankle. He tried to shake free but the grip was too strong. He reached for the shotgun in his bag, but he had no ammo left. He paniced. He looked around as zombies began to pour onto the path. They edged closer. He fell backwards onto the ground. Three of them pin him down, while one of them opened it's decayed mouth. "The swamp loves to play tricks on me," he thought, "it put me so close to freedom, and just took it away with whatever evil has resided in this place. Sick, twisted games these waters play.". This was the final thought of Riley black before the creatures that pinned him down began to drag his feasted corpse back into the darkness. Back into the waters. Back into the swamp. Think your a bitch

Is this a good horror story? Into the Swamp The muddy, thick water was still below the rotted trees, the top of which seemed to block out the night sky. Haunting sounds rang through the darkness of the swamp, as the fog swept over the dreary land, setting an uncomforting mood. The ground was almost pure mud, mold covered the majority of it. A certain sick feel lived inside the swamp, which had no name. No human lived within 10 miles of it, and hardly anyone ever went in, for there was no purpose. Few animals lived in the area near regular land. Riley Black stumbled into this setting clutching a shotgun in his right hand and his injured right shoulder in his left hand. On his back was a carry on bag filled with $500,000, shotgun shells, and a flashlight. He limped, feeling as if he was too dizzy to continue, and he was going to collapse. A couple dozen yards in, he reached a dreary, cold body of water, and on the muddy banks of which sat an old, wooden ferry boat. It looked as if it wasn't able to stay afloat in the water. It creaked in an uncomfortable manner as Black put his left foot in. He sat down slowly, grabbed the oar, and set off. The wood on the boat, much like the trees in the swamp, was dead and rotted. He could barely see through the fog, but none the less, the oar continued to make it's way slowly through the muggy waters. He glanced up at the the tree tops as the boat skimmed through the water. Crows soared furiously through the foggy air, screaming at one another. His concentration was broken by a small tug on the oar. He looked down at the water. Moments passed. Nothing. Just as he started to continue, a figure leaped out of the water and clutched to the side of the ferry boat. Black looked over at what was trying to climb on to the boat. His body went still as he stared into the face of a decomposed, human-like creature. It's face was rotted away and boney, with green, dead skin. It's teeth were clearly visible through it's almost absent mouth. It's right eye was popped out more so than the left, and it's nose was just dead skin that wrapped tighly around the nose bone. It had a small amount of grey hair atop it's head. It made it's way onto the boat, revealing a skeleton like figure bundled up in old clothes much like a bum would wear. It gave a loud, horrifying, high-pitched shriek as it lunged toward Black. He snapped out of his trance and quickly grabbed the shotgun. He aimed and fired, hitting it right between the eyes. The creature fell off the boat and sank back into the water. He put the gun down and stared at the spot the monster had just stood. Sweat dripped down his face, and he breathed uncontrollably. "I heard a gunshot over there!" said a voice from the entrance of the swamp. "Aw Christ. How'd they track me?" he thought. He picked up the oar and paddled as fast as he could. Within minutes, he reached the opposite bank. He hopped out of the boat and into the mud, which was about four inches deep. Gathering his stuff together, he looked around , thinking about his direction. He walked a a bit aways further. "You lost?" said a woman's voice. Black turned to see a smiling old woman in a sundress and hat. Both the items she was wearing were covered in a flower covered pattern, which definately didn't match the place she wasin. Black's temper quickly came into play, for he was greatly impatient at the moment, but before he could say anything, she interuptted him. "The cabin your lookin' for is just o'er that direction" said the woman pointing, then she turned and walked down a muddy path. Black turned to see an old cabin. "That was not there before. Who ar-". She was gone. "That's impossible!", He thought, frantically looking around the path she had traveled. He stood there for a moment before shaking it off and heading towards the cabin. * * * Earlier that day, in the City Diner in a small town in Louisiana, Jackie Randle sat waiting and enjoying his burger. Randle was a tall, pale guy with a ragged look to him. His old, paint covered Pantera shirt and ripped jeans didn't say much about him. He finished his food and leaned back. "I hope this guy Hanley's bringin' is good. He obviously sucks at arrivin' on time, I don't think he's that responsable to pull somethin' off like this." he thought. Just then, a man in jeans and a plad shirt walked in to the quiet lttle diner. He was a regular sized guy, handsome face and combed back hair. He looked like a dirty man. one who cared little about hygene. It looked like he wasn't sure about what he was doing. He had certain nervousness about him. Randle looked up, "Guess you're the guy I'm lookin' for?". The man show a toothy grin said,"I guess so. You Jackie Randle?". Randle nodded and stuck his hand out. The man shook his hand pleasently and sat at the opposite seat in the booth. "You gonna order anything? You Hungry?", asked Randle. Almost insantly the man replied, "No. I'm just here to get the plan together. Nothing else." Randle hesitated before nodding. "Where's Hanley?" asked the man, who for some reason seemed to be getting impatient. "He'll meet us there," They sat there for an hour going over notes. Randle said, starting to wrap it up," So let's go over the plan, Hanley'll walk into the bank, gun in pocket, and sit in the waiting area. You'll walk in and go up to the tellar farthest from the front door. That's when I walk in and and immediatly take out the security gaurds. You stick up that tellar there and tell 'em to open the vault. Hanley'll come into play if anyone trys to get near us, in which he'll pick off the gaurd or whoever's tryin' to be a hero. We'll improvise after we get out of there, but Hanley's bringing his car and he's got an old cabin out in a swamp about a half an hour from here. You got it?" The man nodded and asked "We're supposed to be there in twenty minutes. I got the guns in my trunk and we can walk from here, it's only three blocks." Randle gave a thumbs up. "Man, this guy's weird, but he seems to know what he's doing. I'm not gonna question Hanley. This guy- wait what's his name?" He thought. "Excuse me, uh, guy?" Randle said catching up with him,"What's you're name? We've been talking for like an hour and I still don't know". The sharply dressed man hesitated, then looked up ,"Black. Riley Black." * * * The fog seemed to grow thicker, and Black knew it was only a matter of time before those cops found him. He immediatly went to the corner of the two story cabin's first floor and sat down. He sat down and pulled out a pocket knife. He took a long breath before sinking it into the hole in his right shoulder. He let out a silent scream as blood seeped out and down his arm, and within ten seconds, the bloody bullet fell to the filthy cabin floor. He then cut off part of his shirt and wrapped it around the already festering wound. He checked the bag to make sure the goods were still there and he quickly yanked up the shotgun and went up the stairs. There were four empty bedrooms upstairs, all of which had the same feel as the swamp. The cabin was hundreds of years old and hadn't been inhabited for about fifty years. He stood at the broken window and waited for about ten minutes before the two cops found the cabin. One stayed outside and and the other quietly went in. Black squinted and pointed the end of the shotgun out the window and and picked the cop off. The bullet went into his heart. Black quickly turned to the bedroom door and waited for cop two to come rollin' through the door. Since he had shot the other cop, cop two was surely on his way. As soon as he came through the door, he was on the ground and bleeding from the neck. Black walked over to the dying man and looked down at him. He raised the gun, aimed, looked away, and fired. Blood was now all over the walls of the little bedroom. Black wiped the blood off his face and sat in the far corner of the room near a closet. The closet was locked and Black was a little too shooken up to go looking around in the old house. Darkness wasn't far off, the fog was still holding strong. He began to get dizzy, his head started to wobble. He passed out right there in the corner. "Wake up!" Black heard the voice of Hanley. He blinked a few times before looking across the room. There stood Randle and Hanley. They had a lantern with them and two guns, and that was about it. "What's wrong with you?", yelled Hanley,"Killing the cops and not disposing of the bodies or their boat! You and Randle go fix it, now!" Black stood up, anger boiling inside of him,"Why in God's name would you ever choose this swamp? I had a zombie-thing leap outta the water like Jason, I saw a ghost woman just walkin' around in the swamp, I- I'm freakin' out here!" Hanley, looking annoyed, said "You're just a little worked up. Now do what I said." Black moved towards the dooor and turned around. "Watch him!" said Black and he walked out of the room. Hanley looked greatly confused. Randle and Black walked down the stairs. Black noticed that they had hung lanterns up in nearly ever room of the cabin, including the backdoor where the cop came through. They walked out that same backdoor and stopped. "Black, I'll go do somethin' with the boat, you go do somethin' with Robocop over near the tree." He watched Randle walk into the black with his lantern. He fished for his flashlight in his front pocket and proceeded out of the lantern's light. He walked over to the cop's body, but stop after almost stepping on a dead rabbit. He looked down and studied it. It's flesh was half gone and it was missing a back leg. He got a bit closer and squinted. The rabbit's body twitched! He jumped slightly back, but then felt kinda stupid. Just then, the rabbit began to twitch violently, then it stopped. It rose up on it's three remaining legs. Black backed up and followed the rabbit with the light, and he watched as it hopped over to the cop's body. It paused for a moment before looking at Black and then grabbing the cop's collar by the mouth and somehow dragging it far off into the woods. Black stood there in absolute shock. The moment was then broken by Randle's screaming. Black quickly ran over to the water bank to see all three boats and Randle sinking rapidly in the mud. Black lunged forward to grab his hand, but was stopped as the mud began to move, as if something was crawling through it. Suddenly, a figure of mud began to form from the ground up. It stood, pure mud, about ten feet tall. It had no facial features, it was just a basic human-like shape. It looked up at the moon and a mouth began to open up, letting out a peircing howl. Black shot at the mud monster, but the bullets did nothing but get lost in the figure. It looked down and let it's body fall on Randle and the boats, all of them disappearing, drowning in the deep, deep mud. Then, the muddy waterside returned to how it was before any soul had touched. It regained it's normal shape. The swamp grew silent. The fog stopped dead in the air. Black stood in one spot, trying to collect his thoughts. He looked up at the spot where Randle met his demise. His eyes grew wide at what was now happening. He screamed as the water began to move, as figures arose. Creatures, much like the one Black dealt with on the ferry boat, limped out of the water. The creatures caught site of Black and headed in his direction. They all very much resembled his ferry boat friend. Rotted flesh, bolging eyes, skeleton figures. Moaning. Dazed. They were zombies. He turned and ran toward the cabin as fast as he could manage to move. He began to slow down when he heard the voice of a woman singing. A dreary, beautiful voice filling the air. He couldn't make out the words. He looked over to the area of the sound, where he saw the woman in the sundress slowly walking and singing. She stopped and turned to him. His spine began to shake and the hair on his body stood up. She smiled for a moment, before her now transparent body began to quiver and fall to the ground. Her flesh began to fpeel away from her bones, leaving a skeleton in a sundress lying in am pile flesh. Then within a split second, it disappeared. He hesitated and continued towards the cabin. "Hanley we gotta get outta here now!" He said running up the stairs. He ran into the room, but was stopped at the sight of the the corpse of the cop feeding off of Hanley. "Man, Hanley, I told you to watch him." He said raising the shotgun. The corpse looked up at him. It had not yet rotted like the other zombies, but it still had those menacing bolging eyes. It hissed at him, right before taking a bullet to the forehead. He walked over to Hanley's body and put a bullet in it's head before it could change into one of those things. He peered out the window. The zombies stumbled toward the back door and into the cabin. He decided to wait out night and swim, seeing as how all three boats were under water. He'd sit in his corner of the room and pick off whatever came through that door. He had enough ammo to take down hundreds of them, and he had all the time in the world. * * * The 1978 corvette flew down the road. So fast the cop cruisers barely kept up. Randle sat in the passenger seat, turning around after every reload to shoot at the cop cars through the shattered back window. Black sat in the back doing the same while Hanley drove. "Where's the swamp?" Black asked reaching for more ammo. "Well, I didn't think they'd keep up like this, so one of you two has to get the loot and tuck and roll at the next sharp turn. The swamp entrance is marked by a tree with a red spray painted X. Get in the swamp, there's two ferry boats. Take one across the water, cause that only way to get to and back from the otherside, and get to the cabin. It's about a ten minute walk from the opposite bank." Hanley said quickly. Black sighed "I'll do i-" but was interupted when a bullet hit him in the shoulder. He grabbed his arm and fell below the window. "They got me! They got me bad!". He looked down at his arm, which was pouring blood everywhere. He moaned in pain looked up a the ceiling of the car. "Can you still do this?" asked Hanley. "Yeah, yeah, just give me a second!" he cried still looking at the ceiling. "We don't have a second! We're turning now!" yelled Hanley. "Ok!" Black responded as he struggled up to the broken back window. Randle tossed him the bag with the money and Black grabbed his gun. They turned in an area where trees blocked the cops view of them, and vice versa. "It's now or never" he thought, and he lept from the back of the car, rolling into a ditch on the side of the road. * * * Riley Black sat in the corner of the abandoned swamp cabin, picking off every zombie that poked it's head through the door. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was a mess, and he'd sat in that corner for the past few hours, just shooting. The amount of them calmed down, eventually, there were none coming through the bedroom doorway. He sat for a minute before rising and walking to the window. Daylight was soon coming. He walked to the doorway and looked down the steps. Nothing. He walked outside. Nothing was there. It was if everything had stopped. He walked over to the side of the water. "You're gonna die in here, Riley, but it's you're only chance." he muttured to himself. He put the shotgun in the bag, trigger out, and slung it on his back. He took the longest breath he ever took and dived in the water. It was about a ten minute boat ride, so he knew he;d be swimming for awhile. He swam for ten minutes without any truoble. The sudden hault of all these horrid events worried him, but this peace didn't last for long. In an instant, the sky melted into pitch black, and with the already hard to see through fog, he felt lost within the middle of the water. He stopped and doggy paddled to keep afloat. He looked around frantically in the dark, until his eyes stopped upon a light in the fog. He waited for a moment, as an empty ferry baot with a lantern on the pole float towards him. "This is the swamp playin' tricks on me." He thought "But once again, no choice at all." He pulled himself up on the boat and looked around. Nothing strange. He grabbed the oar and paddled faster than he'd ever paddled before. He came within sight of the bank he first entered the water on. He remained very alert, looking around at everything in his path. He reached land, grabbed the lantern, and quickly fled throughthe swamp. "This is way to easy of an escape." he thought in fear. He reached the entrance of the swamp and for the first time in about twelve hours, he smiled. He was yards from freedom of the horrific events that took place here. Suddenly, his foot was caught on something. He quickly glanced down to see a hand breaking through the Earth and clutching tightly to his ankle. He tried to shake free but the grip was too strong. He reached for the shotgun in his bag, but he had no ammo left. He paniced. He looked around as zombies began to pour onto the path. They edged closer. He fell backwards onto the ground. Three of them pin him down, while one of them opened it's decayed mouth. "The swamp loves to play tricks on me," he thought, "it put me so close to freedom, and just took it away with whatever evil has resided in this place. Sick, twisted games these waters play.". This was the final thought of Riley black before the creatures that pinned him down began to drag his feasted corpse back into the darkness. Back into the waters. Back into the swamp. Yep thanks

How many receipt-less voting machines are used nation-wide?

guy goes to sperm bank.....? A guy walks into a sperm donor bank wearing a ski mask and holding a gun. He goes up to the nurse and demands her to open the sperm bank vault. She says "But sir, its just a sperm bank!", "I don't care, open it now!!!" he replies. So she opens the door to the vault and inside are all the sperm samples. The guy says "Take one of those sperm samples and drink it!", she looks at him "BUT, they are sperm samples???" , "DO IT!". So the nurse sucks it back. "That one there, drink that one as well.", so the nurse drinks that one as well. Finally after 4 samples the man takes off his ski mask and says, "See honey - its not that hard."

How many receipt-less voting machines are used nation-wide?

hahahaha ..slightly rude ......but a star would be welcome? A guy walks into a sperm donor bank wearing a ski mask and holding a gun. He goes up to the nurse and demands her to open the sperm bank vault. She says "But sir, its just a sperm bank!", "I don't care, open it now!!!" he replies. So she opens the door to the vault and inside are all the sperm samples. The guy says "Take one of those sperm samples and drink it!", she looks at him "BUT, they are sperm samples???" , "DO IT!". So the nurse sucks it back. "That one there, drink that one as well.", so the nurse drinks that one as well. Finally after 4 samples the man takes off his ski mask and says, "See honey - its not that hard."

A man returns from safari and tells his frien about a narrow escape he had."I was by the water hole when a l lion jumed out at me,so I ran for the tents,"says the man."It had just about caught up with me when it slipped and I managed to to vault over the log,The lion jumped over the log too,and then he slipped and landed up on it's back.By that time I was almost at the tents and I could see the safari guide with his gun,so I called out and he took aim,but he couldn't fire cause the lion was only a few feet behind me.It bounded up at me,then it slipped again,and I just had enough time to duck in the camp before the guide shot it".Bloody hell,"says his friend."If that had happened to me,I'd have crapped myself."I did"replies the man."Why do you think the lion kept slipping?" **** A man walks into a bar and sits next to an old drunk.He smells a foul odour,turns to th drunk and says,J****s did you crap in your pants?"Yup",replies the drunk."Then why don't you go to the loo?"asks the manThe drunk replies,!Caus I ain't finished yet!" Enjoy and remember the alchol in take tonhgt,have a laugh.!!!! Listen me lovelies if you can't take a joke plz leave the forum,no need for nasties ok? What year did you finish school?only asking. To tell people quiet frankly if you dont like some thing no need to be nasty,but from my point of view go to hell,are you going to report me or what?

How many receipt-less voting machines are used nation-wide?

How many receipt-less voting machines are used nation-wide?

How long is she going away for? LEWES, Del.- Police say a bank employee and her boyfriend are accused of staging a robbery at a Lewes bank. Delaware State Police say that on Monday night troopers responded to the Community Bank main office located at 16982 Kings Highway in Lewes to investigate a reported armed robbery. Upon arrival at the scene troopers contacted a woman who told them she is currently employed by the bank and was robbed. Police say the woman told police that while using the ATM machine she was approached by an unknown masked suspect who placed a gun to her back and forced her to open the bank. Once inside the bank, the woman told police that she was forced to open the bank vault and "bag up" cash for the suspect. The woman then stated the suspect ran off in an unknown direction with the money. Police say however, that the woman's account of the robbery was not credible and she was in financial trouble. Police say further investigation revealed that the woman and her boyfriend staged the robbery and burglarized the bank and stole an undisclosed amount of money. Police say they also learned that the woman's 6-year-old daughter witnessed the incident while sitting in the woman's car parked in front of the bank door. Police arrested the boyfriend at his home in Rehoboth Beach. No money was recovered there. During the investigation police arrested Crystal Johnson, 23, of the 28000 block of Lakeview Road, Millsboro, on the following charges: third-degree burglary, theft, conspiracy and endangering the welfare of a minor. Johnson was committed to the Sussex Correctional Institution on $47,000 secured bail. Troopers also arrested Johnson's boyfriend, Anthony Marino, 31, of the 35000 block Wolfneck Road, Rehoboth Beach on the following charges: third-degree burglary, theft, conspiracy, possession of a firearm during the commission of a felony, wearing a disguise during the commission of a felony, possession of a firearm by a person prohibited and endangering the welfare of a minor. Marino was committed to SCI on $127,000 secured bail. 15 minutes ago - 3 days left to answer