don't shart til you get enough, come on!
we all live in a yellow shartmarine, a yellow shartmarine, a yellow shartmarine
australians all let us rejoice, for we are shart and freeeee
♪
streme Wheelie
Recognized Member
don't shart til you get enough, come on!
we all live in a yellow shartmarine, a yellow shartmarine, a yellow shartmarine
australians all let us rejoice, for we are shart and freeeee
♪
Shart, in the naaaaame of loooove~
streme Wheelie
Recognized Member
1 2 3 o'clock 4 o'clock shart
5 6 7 o'clock 8 o'clock shart
9 10 11 o'clock 12 o'clock shart
we're gonna shart around the clock tonight
I seen a group of slugs eat some dog trout on my way to work this morning. I thought of all of you.
Reading posts in EOFF makes me think of the person who wrote that particular post.
^For the Win!^
Jack: How do you know?
Will: It's more of a feeling really.
Jack: Well, that's not scientific. Feeling isn't knowing. Feeling is believing. If you believe it, you can't know because there's no knowing what you believe. Then again, no one should believe what they know either. Once you know anything that anything becomes unbelievable if only by virtue of the fact you now... know it. You know?
Will: No.
If Demolition Man were remade today
Huxley: What's wrong? You broke contact.
Spartan: Contact? I didn't even touch you.
Huxley: Don't you want to make love?
Spartan: Is that what you call this? Why don't we just do it the old-fashioned way?
Huxley: NO!
Spartan: Whoa! Okay, calm down.
Huxley: Don't tell me to calm down!
Spartan: What's gotten into you? 'Cause it sure as hell wasn't me.
Huxley: Physical relations in the way of intercourse are no longer acceptable John Spartan.
Spartan: What? Why the hell not?
Huxley: It's the law, John. And for your information, the very idea that you suggested it makes me feel personally violated.
Spartan: Wait a minute... violated? Huxley what the hell are you accusing me of here?
Huxley: You need to leave, John.
Spartan: But Huxley.
Huxley: Get out!
Moments later Spartan is arrested for "violating" Huxley.
By the way, that's called satire. Get over it.
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