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Working this week...

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Say I'm working at N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. So 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. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people I never had a problem with get killed.
(rapid fire)
Now the politicians are sayin' "send in the Marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a sh!t. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number got called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some guy from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. And he comes home to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks.

Meanwhile my buddy from Southie realizes the only reason he was over there was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And of course the oil companies used the skirmish to scare up oil prices so they could turn a quick buck. A cute, little ancillary benefit for them but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. And naturally they're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink seven and sevens and play slalom with the icebergs and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil, and kills all the sea-life in the North Atlantic. So my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive so he's got to walk to the job interviews which sucks 'cause the shrapnel in his ass is givin' him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he's starvin' 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue-plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State.

So what'd I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. I figure I'll eliminate the middle man. Why not just shoot my buddy, take his job and 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? Christ, I could be elected President.
 
Now, I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country. Men, all this stuff you?ve heard about America not wanting to fight, wanting to stay out of the war, is a lot of horse dung. Americans traditionally love to fight. All real Americans love the sting of battle. When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble shooter, the fastest runner, the big league ball player, the toughest boxer. Americans love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Americans play to win all the time. I wouldn?t give a hoot in hell for a man who lost and laughed. That?s why Americans have never lost and will never lose a war. Because the very thought of losing is hateful to Americans.

Now, an Army is a team. It lives, eats, sleeps, fights as a team. This individuality stuff is a bunch of crap. The bilious bastards who wrote that stuff about individuality for the Saturday Evening Post don?t know anything more about real battle than they do about fornicating.

We have the finest food and equipment, the best spirit and the best men in the world. You know, by God I actually pity those poor bastards we?re going up against. By God, I do. We?re not just going to shoot the bastards, we?re going to cut out their living guts and use them to grease the treads of our tanks. We?re going to murder those lousy Hun bastards by the bushel.

Now, some of you boys, I know, are wondering whether or not you'll chicken out under fire. Don't worry about it. I can assure you that you will all do your duty. The Nazis are the enemy. Wade into them. Spill their blood. Shoot them in the belly. When you put your hand into a bunch of goo that a moment before was your best friend's face, you'll know what to do.

Now there?s another thing I want you to remember. I don?t want to get any messages saying that we are holding our position. We?re not holding anything. Let the Hun do that. We are advancing constantly and we?re not interested in holding onto anything except the enemy. We're going to hold onto him by the nose and we're going to kick him in the ass. We're going to kick the hell out of him all the time and we're gonna go through him like crap through a goose.

There?s one thing that you men will be able to say when you get back home. And you may thank God for it. Thirty years from now when you?re sitting around your fireside with your grandson on your knee and he asks you what did you do in the great World War II, you won?t have to say, "Well, I shoveled sh!t in Louisiana."

Alright now, you sons-of-bitches, you know how I feel. Oh, and I will be proud to lead you wonderful guys into battle ? anytime, anywhere.

That?s all.
 
LOL
My job relies on industry being up, so right now is not a busy time at all and it...gets k...kinda.....borrrrrrr.....
zzzzzzzzzzzzz
Sorry...What was I saying?
 
The path of the righteous man is best on all sides
By the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men.
Blessed is he who in the name of charity and good will
Shepards the weak through the valley of darkness
For he is truly his brother's keeper
And the finder of lost children.
And I will strike down upon thee
With great vengeance and furious anger
Those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers.
And you will know my name is the Lord
When I lay my vengeance upon thee.
 
I see in fight club the strongest and smartest men that have ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see it squandered. God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas or waiting tables; slaves with white collars. We're the middle children of history. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War is a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate, so we can buy sh!t we don't need. We were raised on television to believe that we'd all be millionaires, movie gods, rock stars, but we won't. And we're starting to figure that out.
 
I remember those cheers
They still ring in my ears,
And for years they'll remain in my thoughts.
'Cause one night I took off my robe
And what'd I do, I forgot to wear shorts.
I recall every fall, every hook, every jab,
The worst way a guy could get rid of his flab.
As you know, my life was a jab...
Though I'd rather hear you cheer
When I delve into Shakespeare.
A Horse, a Horse, my Kingdom for a Horse,
I haven't had a winner in six months.
I know I'm no Olivier, but if he fought Sugar Ray,
He would say that the thing ain't the ring it's the play.
So gimme a stage where this bull here can rage.
And though I can fight
I'd much rather recite
That's entertainment. That's entertainment.
 
You should work for my Boss...SInce we get thursday and Friday off. We have to work Saturday and Sunday to make up for it.


SysAdmin
 
It's a brand new work day, and only 30 minutes old....and I'm going to have to bringing this thread back.
This is the most useless work week of my life.:disgust:

So I jumped port in hong kong and made my way over to tibet. I got a job loopin' over in the himalayas, you know a pro jock. So i get a job loopin' for none other than the dhali llama himself, the bald head, the flowing robes...striking! So we get up on the first tee and he whacks off about a 10,000 foot crevice down into this glacier, a bit hitter the llama....Long. So he turns to me and says oonga-lagoonga..oonga-googa-lagrunga. So we finish 18 and he starts to walk off...you know tries to stiff me and say hey Dhali!! hey Llama!! How about somethin' for the effort you know? ....a little moola and says Oh there will be no money but on your deathbed you will receive total consciousness....so I got dat goin for me....which is nice!
 
Let me give you a little inside information about God. God likes to watch. He's a prankster. Think about it. He gives man instincts! He gives you this extraordinary gift, and then what does He do, I swear for His own amusement, his own private, cosmic gag reel, He sets the rules in opposition. It's the goof of all time. Look but don't touch. Touch, but don't taste! Taste, don't swallow. Ahaha! And while you're jumpin' from one foot to the next, what is he doing? He's laughin' His sick, fuckin' ass off. He's a tight-ass! He's a sadist! He's an absentee landlord! Worship that? Never!
 
Originally posted by: Spooner
Let me give you a little inside information about God. God likes to watch. He's a prankster. Think about it. He gives man instincts! He gives you this extraordinary gift, and then what does He do, I swear for His own amusement, his own private, cosmic gag reel, He sets the rules in opposition. It's the goof of all time. Look but don't touch. Touch, but don't taste! Taste, don't swallow. Ahaha! And while you're jumpin' from one foot to the next, what is he doing? He's laughin' His sick, fuckin' ass off. He's a tight-ass! He's a sadist! He's an absentee landlord! Worship that? Never!
Click to expand...

I liked that movie. I thought Charlize was uber hot in it too.
 
But you can't hold a whole fraternity responsible for the behavior of a few, sick twisted individuals. For if you do, then shouldn't we blame the whole fraternity system? And if the whole fraternity system is guilty, then isn't this an indictment of our educational institutions in general? I put it to you, Greg - isn't this an indictment of our entire American society? Well, you can do whatever you want to us, but we're not going to sit here and listen to you badmouth the United States of America. Gentlemen!
 
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