I've also always been fascinated by weddings... those surreal performances where the audience plays an integral part -- the joy, the sadness, the passion... all unfolding firstly in a house where God is served and ultimately in a house where beer is served... the knife inserted ritually into the virginal white cake to reveal the dark fruity interior... that ugly pagan concept of the father handing over his daughter to her new master... the mothers crying because they're losing a daughter, the page boys crying because they have to wear such stupid clothes... those embarrassing speeches and drunken uncles on the dance floor...
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For those who believe in God, most of the big questions are answered. But for those of us who can't readily accept the God formula, the big answers don't remain stone-written. We adjust to new conditions and discoveries. We are pliable. Love need not be a command or faith a dictum. I am my own God. We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our educational system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.
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Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day, teach a man to fish and he will spend all day in a boat drinking beer.
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Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach him how to fish and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day.
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Not all chemicals are bad. Without chemicals such as hydrogen and oxygen, for example, there would be no way to make water, a vital ingredient in beer.
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On occasions, after drinking a pint of beer at luncheon, there would be a flow into my mind with sudden and unaccountable emotion, sometimes a line or two of verse, sometimes a whole stanza, accompanied, not preceded by a vague notion of the poem which they were destined to form a part of.... I say bubble up because, so far as I could make out, the source of the suggestions thus proffered to the brain was the pit of the stomach.
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She gave up eating pork three years ago, despite her proud pork-loving, half-Cuban heritage, because she was told pigs share the same mental capacity as 3-year-old children. 'My niece was 3 at the time, which is a magical age,' she said, horrified. 'I thought, Oh, my god, it's like eating my niece!' This, then, also put an end to her preferred hangover cure: Egg McMuffins with Canadian bacon, natch, and beer.
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If you receive an e-mail with a subject of 'Badtimes,' delete it immediately WITHOUT reading it! This is the most dangerous E-Mail virus yet. It will re-write your hard drive. Not only that, but it will recalibrate your refrigerator's coolness setting so all your ice cream goes melty, drink all your beer, make you fall in love with a penguin, give you nightmares about circus midgets, leave the toilet seat up and kill your dog.
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Beer. Now there's a temporary solution
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Some people wanted champagne and caviar when they should have had beer and hot dogs.
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'Horrors ha only a few years ago belonged in he realm of dysopian science ficion have become common place in oday's world - geneically engineered Frankensein foods are forced down our hroas by governmens and corporaions; animals soaked in a bah of poisonous growh hormones are slaughered in he name of a quick buck and increased profi; vas warehouses of 'bio-machines' (beer known o you and I as pigs) lie in darkness, ready o be harvesed for heir organs for human ransplans; he counry side is doed wih concree bunkers where bloodied vivisecors irelessly work heir way hrough he gus and viscera of endless animal vicims! he horrors are seemingly endless... bu hey are NO ineviable!'
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Mary I want a guy who can play 36 holes of golf, and still have enough energy to take Warren and me to a baseball game, and eat sausages, and beer, not lite beer, but beer. That's my ad, print it up.
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Seizing this rare opportunity, I motion to the airhostess and inform her that I could easily rid them of vast quantities of cumbersome beer and make this flight a lot safer for all concerned, to which she replies 'Sorry sir, we don't serve drinks until we are airborne.' Obviously she mistook my perfectly understandable English for some alien code and I was forced to reduce my instruction to monosylables which was surprisingly met with compliance. Having secured something liquid refreshment, I released the hostages and returned to my seat.
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'A string walked into a bar, hopped on the barstool, and said, 'Bartender, gimme a beer.' The bartender said, 'I'm sorry, sir, we don't serve strings here.' Disappointed, the string hopped down from the stool and went to the next bar. He hopped on the barstool and said, again, 'Bartender, gimme a beer.' The bartender said, 'I'm sorry sir, we don't serve strings here.' The string continued down the row of bars in this fashion. At every bar, he hopped on the barstool and said, 'Bartender, gimme a beer.' The bartender at every bar in turn said, 'I'm sorry sir, we don't serve strings here.' Finally he got to the last bar in the area. He was tired, he was sweaty, all he wanted was a beer. He trudged inside, climbed on the barstool, and said, 'Bartender, gimme a beer.' This bartender, too, said, 'I'm sorry, sir, we don't serve strings here.' Tired and angry, the string walked outside to think. He was a hard-working string. He deserved a beer. Finally, he came up with an idea. He had a passerby tie him up into a bow and frazzle his ends. Then he went back into the bar, and climbed up on the barstool. 'Bartender, gimme a beer!' he said loudly. The bartender looked him over critically, and finally yelled, 'Hey, aren't you that string that was in here a few minutes ago?' The string replied coolly, 'Nope, I'm a frayed knot.''
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I'm an old-fashioned guy... I want to be an old man with a beer belly sitting on a porch, looking at a lake or something.
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'A string walked into a bar, hopped on the barstool, and said, 'Bartender, gimme a beer.' The bartender said, 'I'm sorry, sir, we don't serve strings here.' Disappointed, the string hopped down from the stool and went to the next bar. He hopped on the barstool and said, again, 'Bartender, gimme a beer.' The bartender said, 'I'm sorry sir, we don't serve strings here.' The string continued down the row of bars in this fashion. At every bar, he hopped on the barstool and said, 'Bartender, gimme a beer.' The bartender at every bar in turn said, 'I'm sorry sir, we don't serve strings here.' Finally he got to the last bar in the area. He was tired, he was sweaty, all he wanted was a beer. He trudged inside, climbed on the barstool, and said, 'Bartender, gimme a beer.' This bartender, too, said, 'I'm sorry, sir, we don't serve strings here.' Tired and angry, the string walked outside to think. He was a hard-working string. He deserved a beer. Finally, he came up with an idea. He had a passerby tie him up into a bow and frazzle his ends. Then he went back into the bar, and climbed up on the barstool. 'Bartender, gimme a beer!' he said loudly. The bartender looked him over critically, and finally yelled, 'Hey, aren't you that string that was in here a few minutes ago?' The string replied coolly, 'Nope, I'm a frayed knot.''
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When I die bury me deep with a sixpack of beer between my feet, a 5th of liquor and a bottle of rum.
I'll raise hell to kingdom come.
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You think a man is a man cause he wears team colors and guzzles beer in front of the tube Can't you see, boys, the sands of time are dribbling through the hourglass
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For all we know that English people are/ Fed upon beef - I won't say much of beer/ Because 'tis liquor only, and being far/ From this my subject, has no business here;/ We know too, they are very fond of war,/ A pleasure - like all pleasures - rather dear;/ So were the Cretans - from which I infer/ That beef and battle both were owing her” “[t]he art of angling [is] the cruelest, the coldest, and the stupidest of the pretended sports.
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You can't be a Real Country unless you have a BEER and an airline. It helps if you have some kind of a football team, or some nuclear weapons, but at the very least you need a BEER
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You can't be a Real Country unless you have a BEER and an airline -- it helps if you have some kind of a football team, or some nuclear weapons, but at the very least you need a BEER.
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Marriage is based on the theory that when man discovers a brand of beer exactly to his taste he should at once throw up his job and go work in the brewery.
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I'm only a beer teetotaler, not a champagne teetotaler.
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Under the pressure of the cares and sorrows of our mortal condition, men have at all times, and in all countries, called in some physical aid to their moral consolations -- wine, beer, opium, brandy, or tobacco.
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. . .you said good friends are hard to come by I laughed and bought you a beer 'cause it's too corny to cry well sentiment given and sentiment lost you shook it off with a smirk and a toss and you were only joking.
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They who drink beer will think beer.
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Will fuck for beer
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Women. Can't live with 'em ... pass the beer nuts.
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Men are nicotine soaked, beer besmirched, whiskey greased, red-eyed devils.
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How's a beer sound, Norm?'
'I dunno. I usually finish them before they get a word in.
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