[at-l] Sale fones VS Mature -

[camojack at comcast.net (camojack@comcast.net)]

So tell 'em...forget that other nonsense.
-"Camo"

-------------- Original message -------------- 
> Jim Bullard wrote: 
> 
> > 
> > * Eventually this cycle devolves to an exchange where RnR accuses 
> > his opponent(s) of what he has done from the outset and the whole 
> > thing fizzles out in exhaustion. 
> 
 
 Ballparkin' it here....how close are we to that 'exhaustion' thing 
 happening? I've got stories about itchin' arms, hot hiker-chicks and 
 storms to tell. From camojack at comcast.net  Thu Aug  4 03:03:47 2005
From: camojack at comcast.net (camojack@comcast.net)
Date: Thu Aug  4 04:05:45 2005
Subject: [at-l] The answer.... 
Message-ID: <080420050903.28401.42F1D9F30009C45200006EF12200750784050C0E0601030E0C@comcast.net>

...42?!
-"Camo"

-------------- Original message -------------- 
> Sometime back in the late 1700's, early in the month of July, in a small 
> clearing in what is now southeastern Tennessee, what was possibly the 
> most violent storm to ever occur occured. 
> 
> A small creek flowed from a woods on the north side of a meadow slightly 
> smaller than 4 acres. The creek crossed the meadow just to the east of 
> its middle, heading almost directly south. The creek was so unassuming 
> that from certain vantage points, it couldn't even be seen. 
> 
> As it neared the woods bordering the southern edge of the field, the 
> creek made a sharp turn to the east. Forty feet or so past the curve, 
> the creek merged with another, larger creek. The two formed a stream 
> that seperated the meadow from the forest for a few hundred yards before 
> making it's way directly into the woods at the meadow's southeast corner. 
> 
> A man, Jacob Samuelson, stood on the slope that made the northwest 
> corner of the meadow the highest point. From there, he could see all of 
> the meadow excepting a small section hidden by a pine grove that jutted 
> into the opening near the southwestern corner. 
> 
> Jacob stood and watch a small group of deer drinking water from the 
> stream at the point that it entered the woods. A breeze had turned into 
> a wind as he stood there. The sky was turning from overcast grays to 
> tumultuous blacks and purple, a streak of electricity cracking through 
> on occasion. He secured his hat and stepped back into the woods behind 
> him, keeping his eyes on the sky as it churned and became more angry. 
> 
> Thunderous roars became louder and more frequent and the wind steady 
> from the west. Loose leaves blew from trees and brown leaves from the 
> previous year danced in the woods. Drops of rain began to fall, 
> eventually making their way to the ground as the wind tried to blow them 
> from their course. 
> 
> Just as quickly as the storm had brewed overhead, it all seemed to drop 
> to calm. The sky was still angry. But, the wind had stopped and the 
> rumble of the thunder was gone. The air was eerie and tense. Nothing 
> seemed to be moving anywhere except the clouds growing in magnificents 
> overhead. 
> 
> To the northeast Jacob noticed another storm heading toward the meadow. 
> It was crawling just as the first storm had, with rumbles and promises 
> of violence. This storm didn't stop when it reached the meadow, however. 
> It continued on toward the southwest corner and the pine grove. It 
> dropped lightening bolts with a ferocious frequency. It was so strong 
> that it didn't waist energy dropping rain. It was more intent on blowing 
> and shocking everything in its path. 
> 
> Before it reached the pines, which were struggling to lean as far away 
> from the storm as they could, the storm began to turn, to spin, to chase 
> itself. The meadow was a perfect playground for this bully. Jacob 
> watched as it became angrier and angrier, its spinning getting tighter 
> by the second. When it achieved its perfection, a beautiful column of 
> destruction sucking and blowing the air at the same time, the roar was 
> so loud that Jacob failed to notice that the storm to his right had 
> began to dance with itself as well. When it entered the clearing it was 
> so close to Jacob that it sucked the air from his lungs and dropped him 
> to the ground. 
> 
> There were two tornadoes stirring up anything and everything in the 
> meadow. Grasses and wildflowers laid as flat as they could. The wind 
> didn't know which way to blow, and sometimes didn't. The cylinders 
> twisting around the field acted as though they were sizing the other for 
> a battle to the death. One picked the bough from a pine tree and left it 
> suspended in dead air for far longer than it should have been able to. 
> The other seemed to be more interested in knocking things down. Breaking 
> things. Destroying things. 
> 
> Rain fell in short bursts. The winds were too strong to allow water to 
> fall. The noise was too loud to allow thought. Jacob held a tree and 
> watched the tragedy play out. 
> 
> After an eternity of just over one minute, the tornadoes captured one 
> another. They became one angry mass that was going to do as much damage 
> as it could possibly do in an existence it knew was going to be short. 
> It bounced around the field one last time before it left and headed 
> through the woods to the south. 
> 
> The swath in its wake was a hundred yards wide and smelled of sap and 
> soil. No tree was left standing. The field was littered with limbs and 
> tops from trees that stood majestically only moments before. The pine 
> grove was no more. Only after the beast had taken its torment a half 
> mile away did the rains start again. Soothing the wounds? Spitting in 
> the face of the defeated? 
> 
> It rained for four days straight. 
> 
> Jacob Samuelson was never seen again. And, at no point in history from 
> that afternoon in early July in the late 1700's until this very minute 
> has a person thought of the storms that hit that meadow that day. 
> 
> 
> -- 
> Felix J. McGillicuddy 
> ME-->GA '98 
> "Your Move" 
> ALT '03 KT '03 
> http://Felixhikes.tripod.com/ 
> 
> 
> 
> _______________________________________________ 
> at-l mailing list 
> at-l@backcountry.net 
> http://mailman.hack.net/mailman/listinfo/at-l From blackwolfe at bellsouth.net  Thu Aug  4 05:31:56 2005
From: blackwolfe at bellsouth.net (Black Wolfe)
Date: Thu Aug  4 06:32:06 2005
Subject: OT:  Darth Dawg WAS RE: [at-l] THE Bear solution....
In-Reply-To: <E1E0WV5-0003w3-00@pop-gadwall.atl.sa.earthlink.net>
References: <E1E0WV5-0003w3-00@pop-gadwall.atl.sa.earthlink.net>
Message-ID: <42F1FCAC.5010300@bellsouth.net>

And together it's pronounced wuse like a canid sneeze?

Bruce W.  (Black Wolfe)

Shelly Hale wrote:
> Sly wrote>> Well, if you're going to be Wiggly Eyes or WE, dawg should be one of the others you were thinking about at your choosing
> to make it official. Then you'll  rhyme, something with an M maybe .  WE and ME
> 
>  
> 
> I was thinking more along the lines of US (Unstoppable Sidekick)!!!  Who wants to be THEM?  We could work out an all new Who's on
> first!  LOL
> 
>  
> 
> Tenacious Tanasi
> 
>    (Shelly Hale)


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