2000 miles of dating 35000 yr olds

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This sucks! (Read 663 times)

    Hey I have a great idea.  Let's have a Bad Religion discussion.

     

    Which album was better:

    1988's "Suffer"

     

    or

     

    1993's "Recipe for Hate"

     

    Go!

    Sack up and run.

       some of it comes from private messages he sent me

       Party foul.

       

       They're called private messages for a reason, yo.

      How do you keep your feet on the ground, when you know you were born to fly?


      break'n three

         Party foul.

         

         They're called private messages for a reason, yo.

         

        To be fair...Nader didn't really share what was said in the messages, therefore keeping them private.  He only stated that he and Jeff had exchanged private messages.  Technically, I don't think he's fouled...yet.

        Sack up and run.
        R2E


        the unrunner

          haha. 

           

           

          It's funny, some of it comes from private messages he sent me, but I figured any references to private messages would only provoke your disdain.  It appears that any references by me to any interaction with the "master runners" on this forum will do that.

           

          By the way, I was never being snarky about  your Twitter. I genuinely enjoyed it and was openly begging for reinstatement.

           

           

          while we're having air-it-out day, i am going to try to patiently explain this to you. what you are doing right here in this post is attempting to curry favor with me. not that i would fault anyone for that because i am a superior being; however, the point here is that you are a bit of a prat. you parade out your inside knowledge like a schoolchild. i am genuinely happy you enjoyed my tweets and regret that you are no longer privy to them, but the reason you were cut off was not your snark. it was rather your coming here and being all "i read these tweets" as if it were a thing. it's tweets. it's not a thing. you deal in relationships as if they were poker chips, and i don't play that game.

          if you don't run, you'll rust. [tom petty] ..... i just wanna get back on track, even if it kills me. [motion city soundtrack] ..... if i only could be running up that hill, with no problems. if only i could, be running up that hill. [kate bush] ..... still running in place [alkaline trio] ..... at least i'll try and run, and run tonight, everything will be alright [the killers] ..... don't give up the distance. [flavio the magnificent]

            I Want to Conquer the World.

            Sempre in bilico.

               

               

              while we're having air-it-out day, i am going to try to patiently explain this to you. what you are doing right here in this post is attempting to curry favor with me. not that i would fault anyone for that because i am a superior being; however, the point here is that you are a bit of a prat. you parade out your inside knowledge like a schoolchild. i am genuinely happy you enjoyed my tweets and regret that you are no longer privy to them, but the reason you were cut off was not your snark. it was rather your coming here and being all "i read these tweets" as if it were a thing. it's tweets. it's not a thing. you deal in relationships as if they were poker chips, and i don't play that game.

               

               

              ?

              If we don’t try we’ll never know. At least I can find out how good I can be.  I can have an answer at the end of the days, and have a hell of a good time with the process. -Desi Davila


              "Race Across The Sky"

                 

                 

                while we're having air-it-out day, i am going to try to patiently explain this to you. what you are doing right here in this post is attempting to curry favor with me. not that i would fault anyone for that because i am a superior being; however, the point here is that you are a bit of a prat. you parade out your inside knowledge like a schoolchild. i am genuinely happy you enjoyed my tweets and regret that you are no longer privy to them, but the reason you were cut off was not your snark. it was rather your coming here and being all "i read these tweets" as if it were a thing. it's tweets. it's not a thing. you deal in relationships as if they were poker chips, and i don't play that game.

                 

                I'm not going to censor this, not really my place. But are you sure you really want to be this harsh?

                 

                I don't want to get all fucking "huggy" here, but is that really called for?

                What was the secret, they wanted to know; in a thousand different ways they wanted to know The Secret. And not one of them was prepared, truly prepared to believe that it had not so much to do with chemicals and zippy mental tricks as with that most unprofound and sometimes heart-rending process of removing, molecule by molecule, the very tough rubber that comprised the bottoms of his training shoes. The Trial of Miles; Miles of Trials

                  I know longer know what the hell is going on in this thread, but...it sure fits the subject. 

                   

                  It would also fit under the subject of:  Boooorrringg....

                  Sack up and run.


                  Hawt and sexy

                    Ok, someone is getting padlock happy.

                     

                    Fucking tyrants.  If a group of women can bitch about me in a thread for 10 pages, then others should get that time in.

                    I'm touching your pants.

                       

                      Which album was better:

                      1988's "Suffer"

                       

                      or

                       

                      1993's "Recipe for Hate"

                       

                      Go!

                       

                      I'll take "Suffer" since it's the only one I know anything from. 

                      mr train you are a pain, your words - they make me go insane

                      they strike my ever-thinking brain like little drops of acid rain

                      oh, to my life you are a bane; crazy, mixed up, mr train - r2e

                       

                        If I plugged Bad Religion into my Pandora, what do you think would come out (besides Bad Religion)?

                        If we don’t try we’ll never know. At least I can find out how good I can be.  I can have an answer at the end of the days, and have a hell of a good time with the process. -Desi Davila


                        "Race Across The Sky"

                          Ok, someone is getting padlock happy.

                           

                          Fucking tyrants.  If a group of women can bitch about me in a thread for 10 pages, then others should get that time in.

                           

                          Have you thrown your teddy in the corner Willamona? 

                          What was the secret, they wanted to know; in a thousand different ways they wanted to know The Secret. And not one of them was prepared, truly prepared to believe that it had not so much to do with chemicals and zippy mental tricks as with that most unprofound and sometimes heart-rending process of removing, molecule by molecule, the very tough rubber that comprised the bottoms of his training shoes. The Trial of Miles; Miles of Trials

                            Ok, someone is getting padlock happy.

                             

                            Fucking tyrants.  If a group of women can bitch about me in a thread for 10 pages, then others should get that time in.

                             

                             

                            We could try and set a daily Swamp record for locked threads...

                             

                            Willa - I hate you.  And Apollo Ono. 

                             

                            Sack up and run.


                            Hawt and sexy

                              Awwww, I hate you to goldsboro.  Hugs. 

                              I'm touching your pants.

                                Awwww, I hate you to goldsboro.  Hugs. 

                                 

                                Nothing says "I hate you" like hugs. 

                                Sack up and run.
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