NoEnzLefttoSplit wrote:

 ...outfit them for heavy lifting?

ok, so I've got all my chicken in a line. Now what?

...Then there's this, from the Dept. of Brutal Irony, located somewhere in the heart of every human being alive and walking dead alike...
That
We 
Put God
in a straitjacket and torture him with feeble interpretation until he can prove he is in fact real, while and yet the real interpretations of Mankind struggle to breathe life
into a sparrow falling from the sky.
or a dove...

I think I've figured out a way to weaponize a cat box. Lots of room there for sure..

oh sure
it's all fun and games until your common ancestors show up out of nowhere with bite marks all over their hands...

This is the lamest zombie apocalypse like, ever.

 oldviolin wrote:
 

In my experience it's a 10-1 ratio, fields to experts. But what do I know?

It's sort of an unasked question but truly, how many are actual experts and how many are simply out standing in their fields?

In the news today, CoronaVirus CoronaVirus and CoronaVirus, but CoronaVirus so CoronaVirus. Weather: Yesterday CoronaVirus, today CoronaVirus, tomorrow CoronaVirus. Long range forecast: CoronaVirus. And now for sports...

 buddy wrote:
 

*gasp* 

...all is made for the end of the world
all that ends with the world
what is made and slips back into the frequent vastness of a sea churning mountains into umbral talc
like feats of clay...

Quarter to 2am at a roadhouse on a lost stretch of highway between two dusty West Texas towns...waitresses bussing the empty tables...a couple of gritty locals at the bar having one last round...the front door swung open clearing out the bluegrey haze of cigarettes...the band working through one last song...let the river take away all the words you and I could never say...he holds her tight and tender as they shuffle slow back and forth in rhythm to the song...to the beating of their hearts...in the silence darlin' let us pray...and he swears to Jesus this time he will not let her slip away...all promises will be kept...all dues will be paid...no two journeys are ever quite the same...I can change Lord, for her...just one more chance...let the river take it all away...

There's an old shaggy-dog joke that I have heard spun out to a good 25 minutes, where the punchline is, "Fuck off Clown!"

Sometimes you have to go with the classics.

...the full on attack mode is only to be used 
against threats of consequence, as in pulling off chickens fingers or intensely debating the specific density of density. Let's just be as mind boggled as possible when the actual need to attack occurs,; most likely Once-a-Day...

 oldviolin wrote:
 
Once upon a time there lived an old woman consumed with worry about outliving her assets, though her only heirs were siblings. Laughing, she made a list.

Somewhere between frame of reference and state of mind is a collage made of shapeless nuance and formless structure
insinuating freethinking possibility.
Suddenly the power goes out and truth is a prevailing wind from north of singularity...

Once upon a time there lived an old woman. Laughing, she lived longer than her age could betray, for only in laughing
did she smile knowingly...

 oldviolin wrote:
 
I can't quit you, man!