Politics is like trying to screw a cat in the ass.
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'In the bad old days reference to Blacks/women/Jews/others were in negative language which perpetuated poor treatment/ abuse/ exploitation of these people. Animals have suffered more from negative language stereotyping than all the others, and demeans them so constantly that they created an environment that allows all sorts of cruelties, many too horrendous to describe! An animal is 'it' instead of 'he' or 'she', this perpetuates our view of them as 'things' rather than individuals and is a major first step towards cutting them up for meat and leather, testing drugs/cosmetics/ household products on their bodies, and tearing off their coats for furs!!! Those who have pets are referred to as 'owners' rather than guardians/care givers/companions, reinforcing the idea that they are property much as slaves were considered property. Let's avoid these references: Dirty rat; filthy pig; acting like an ass; dirty dog; she's a bitch; ugly duckling; there's more than one way to skin a cat; behaving like an animal; making a monkey out of someone; killing 2 birds with one stone; working like a horse, you're chicken ... There are many more! Please think before uttering them and tell others. Thank you!'
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Here lies... Walt Whitman. Aaargh! Damn you Walt Whitman! I... hate... you... Walt... freakin... Whitman, leaves of grass my ass!
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Above all things, be not made an ass to carry the burdens of other men if any friend desire thee to be his surety, give him a part of what thou has to spare if he presses thee further, he is not thy friend at all.
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Dear Signore Direttore,
Now I am a-tella you a story wot I was a-treated at your hotella.
I am a-comma from Roma as tourist to London an stay as a-younga cristan man at your hotella.
When I comma in my room I see there is no shit in my bed - how can I sleep whit no shit i my bed? So I calla down to the receptione and tella: 'I wanta shit'. They tella me: 'Go to toilet'. I say: 'No,no I wanta shit in my bed'. They say: 'You better not shit in your bed, you sonna-wa-bitch'. What is sonna-wa-bitch?
I go down for breakfast into restorante. I order bacon and egga and two pissis of toast. I getta only one piss of toast. I tella waitress, and point at toast: 'I wanta piss'. She tella me: 'Go to toilet'. I say: 'I wata piss on my plate'. She then say to me: 'You'd bloody not piss on the plate, you sonna-wa-bitch'.
That is the second person who do not even know me calla me 'sonna-wa-bitch', an why is your staff replying 'Go to toilet', is that a modern tella? I do no understand, Please tella me!
Later I go for dinner in your restorante. Spoon and knife is laid out, but no fock. I tella waitress: 'I wanta fock'. And she tella me: 'Sure, everyone wanta fock'. I say: 'No,no you dont understanda me, I wanta fock on the table'. She tella me: So you sonna-wa-bitch wanta fock on the table? Get your ass out of here!
How comma this cristian hotel tella the guest in such bad manner?
So I go to receptioneand ask for bill, I no wanta stay in this hotel no more. When I have paid the a-billa the portier say to me: 'Thank you and piss on you'. I say: 'Piss on you too, you sonna-wa-bitch, I go back to Italy'.
Direttore, I never gonna stay in your hotella no more, you sonna-wa-bitch.
Sincerely
Dicci Elgre
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LOOKING-GLASS, n. A vitreous plane upon which to display a fleeting show for man's disillusion given. The King of Manchuria had a magic looking-glass, whereon whoso looked saw, not his own image, but only that of the king. A certain courtier who had long enjoyed the king's favor and was thereby enriched beyond any other subject of the realm, said to the king: Give me, I pray, thy wonderful mirror, so that when absent out of thine august presence I may yet do homage before thy visible shadow, prostrating myself night and morning in the glory of thy benign countenance, as which nothing has so divine splendor, O Noonday Sun of the Universe! Please with the speech, the king commanded that the mirror be conveyed to the courtier's palace; but after, having gone thither without apprisal, he found it in an apartment where was naught but idle lumber. And the mirror was dimmed with dust and overlaced with cobwebs. This so angered him that he fisted it hard, shattering the glass, and was sorely hurt. Enraged all the more by this mischance, he commanded that the ungrateful courtier be thrown into prison, and that the glass be repaired and taken back to his own palace; and this was done. But when the king looked again on the mirror he saw not his image as before, but only the figure of a crowned ass, having a bloody bandage on one of its hinder hooves --as the artificers and all who had looked upon it had before discerned but feared to report. Taught wisdom and charity, the king restored his courtier to liberty, had the mirror set into the back of the throne and reigned many years with justice and humility; and one day when he fell asleep in death while on the throne, the whole court saw in the mirror the luminous figure of an angel, which remains to this day.
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Why shouldn't I work for the NSA? That's a tough one. But I'll take a shot. Say I'm workin' at the NSA and somebody puts a code on my desk, somethin' no one else can break. Maybe I take a shot at it and maybe I break it and I'm real happy with myself cause I did my job well, but maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East and once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels are hiding, fifteen hundred people I never met, never had no problem with get killed.
Now the politicains are sayin' 'Oh send in the marines to secure the area, cause they don't give a shit, won't be their kid over there gettin' shot just like it wasn't them when their number got called cause they were all pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some kid from Southy over there takin' shrapnel in the ass. He comes back to find that the plant he used to work at, got exported to the country he just got back from, and the guy that put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job cause he'll work for 15 cents a day and no bathroom breaks.
Meanwhile, he realises the only reason he was over there in the first place was so that we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price, and ofcourse the oil companies use a little skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices, a cute little ancilliary benefit for them, but it ain't helpin' my buddy at 2.50 a gallon. Their takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, of course maybe they even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martini's and fuckin' play slolum with the icebergs. It ain't to long til he hits one, spills the oil, and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic... so now my buddy's out of work, he can't afford to drive, so he's walkin' to the fuckin' job interviews which sucks cause the shrapnel in his ass is givin' him cronic hemroids and meanwhile, he's starvin' cause everytime he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special their serving is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State....
so what did I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. I figure fuck it, while Im at it why not just shoot my buddy, take his job, give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe, and join the National Guard. I could be elected President.
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A traveler must have the back of an ass to bear all, a tongue like the tail of a dog to flatter all, the mouth of a hog to eat what is set before him, the ear of a merchant to hear all and say nothing.
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One time my cousin Walter got this cat stuck in his ass. True story. He bought it at our local mall, so the whole fiasco wound up on the news. It was embarrassing for my relatives and all, but the next week, he did it again. Different cat, same results, complete with another trip to the emergency room. So, I run into him a week later in the mall and he's buying another cat. And I says to him, 'Jesus, Walt! You know you're just gonna get this cat stuck in your ass too. Why don't you knock it off ?' And he said to me, 'Brodie, how the hell else am I supposed to get the gerbil out ?' My cousin was a weird guy.
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A whiskey glass and a woman's ass are the downfall of many a good man.
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Ricky Here's what I'm gonna ask of you... We're going to be spending the night in New York, so it worked out well for all of us. I want you to take it back to the business class, I want you to round up a couple of honeys... At our hotel room we're gonna have kind of a pool party. California gangster-style, you know what I mean Kick ass pool party thing.
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One time my cousin Walter got this cat stuck in his ass. True story. He bought it at the local mall, so the whole fiasco wound up on the news. It was embarrassing for my relatives and all. But the next week, he did it again. Different cat, same results, complete with a trip to the emergency room. Then, last week, I saw him in the pet store. He was buying another cat! I said, 'Walt, what the hell are you doing? You know you're just gonna get this cat stuck up your ass too, why don't you knock it off?' And he says to me, 'Brodie, how the hell else am I supposed to get the gerbil out?' My cousin was a weird guy.
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CHRIS The bane and blessing of human nature. That old cat killer, curiosity. Something so deeply embedded in our psyches that it screams to us from ancient myths of Pandora. Eve. Lot's wife. JOEL Eve lost paradise, Lot's wife was turned into a pillar of salt. Knowledge doesn't come cheap my friend. CHRIS Good or bad, curiosity is woven into our DNA like tonsils or like the opposable thumb. It's the fire under the ass of the human experience
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Well, waking up hungover and snuggled up in bed with the boss's 19-yr-old daughter and having to walk out of the house past his surprised ass at the breakfast table doesn't do wonders for your career.
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Happy Golf requires goofy pants and a fat ass. You should talk to my neighbor the accountant. Probably a great golfer. Huge ass.
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I am an old scholar, better-looking now than when I was young. That's what sitting on your ass does to your face.
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The inquiry in England is not whether a man has talents and genius, but whether he is passive and polite and a virtuous ass and obedient to noblemen's opinions in art and science. If he is, he is a good man. If not, he must be starved.
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Anti-Valentines Day Poem Hearts and roses and kisses galore, What the hell is all that shit for? People get mushy and start acting queer, It is definitely the most annoying day of the year. This day needs to get the hell over with and pass, Before I shove something up Cupid's ass. I'll spend the day so drunk I can't speak And wear black for the rest of the week. Guys act all sweet, but soon it will fade, For all they are doing is trying to get laid. The arrow Cupid shot at me must not have hit, Cause I think this love thing is a crock of shit. So, here's my story... what else can I say? Love bites my ass... Fuck Valentines Day!
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Prince Charming is very nice and very honest and very confident in who he is and funny and knows how to have a kick-ass fun time. Is willing to melt away so that nothing else exists in the world except himself and his princess and loves food and cats and every life form except human beings which is not necessary.
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Ricky Excuse me Honey, umm, where the drinks are concerned, is that a hidden tax Does that fall under complementary up front service as well or is that something you pay for Flight Attendent Oh no, no, they're complementary. Would you care for another one Ricky They're complementary Flight Attendent Yes. Ricky You bet your ass I would.
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Pleasure is the carrot dangled to lead the ass to market or the precipice.
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Donnie Brasco Forget about it is like if you agree with someone, you know, like Raquel Welsh is one great piece of ass, forget about it. But then, if you disagree, like A Lincoln is better than a Cadillac Forget about it you know But then, it's also like if something's the greatest thing in the world, like mingia peppers, forget about it. But it's also like saying Go to hell too. Like, you know, like Hey Paulie, you got a one inch pecker and Paulie says Forget about it Sometimes it just means forget about it
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A man's women folk, whatever their outward show of respect for his merit and authority, always regard him secretly as an ass, and with something akin to pity. His most gaudy sayings and doings seldom deceive them; they see the actual man within, and know him for a shallow and pathetic fellow. In this fact, perhaps, lies one of the best proofs of feminine intelligence, or, as the common phrase makes it, feminine intuition.
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One of the strongest natural proofs of the folly of hereditary right in kings is, that nature disapproves it; otherwise she would not so frequently turn it into ridicule by giving mankind an ass in place of a lion
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That's the whole thing with the hog. It's you and 80 wild horses under your butt, just sitting on 10 square inches where the rubber meets the road. That hurricane gale wind whipping you in the face, leaning into a curve you can feel that gravity wanting to suck you down into it and what do you do Give it a little more gas. Pure centrifugal force. You can see yourself hurtling ass end over teakettle into oblivion.
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A man's women folk, whatever their outward show of respect for his merit and authority, always regard him secretly as an ass, and with something akin to pity. His most gaudy sayings and doings seldom deceive them they see the actual man within, and know him for a shallow and pathetic fellow. In this fact, perhaps, lies one of the best proofs of feminine intelligence, or, as the common phrase makes it, feminine intuition.
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Oh see, now that pisses me off. First of all, we have over 400 plaintiffs here, and, let's be honset, we all know there are more out there. They may not be the most sophistcated people but they do know how to divide and 20 million dollars isn't shit when you split it between them. Second of all, these people don't dream about being rich. They dream about being able to let their kids swim in a pool without worrying that they'll have to have a historectomy by the age of 20, like Rosa Fields, a client of ours. Or have their spine deteriorate, like Stan Bloom, another client of ours. So before you come back here with another lame-ass offer, I want you to think real hard about what your spine is worth Mr. Walker. Or how much you'd expect somebody to pay you for your uteris Ms. Sanchez. Then you take out your calculator, and you multiply that number by a hundred. Anything less than that is a waste of our time. By the way, we had that water brought in special for you folks. Came from a well in Hinkley.
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I am Dislexic of Borg. Resistance is Futile. Prepare to have your ass laminated.
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A politician is an ass upon which everyone has sat except a man.
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Your brain can only absorb what your ass can endure.
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