A DEEP OLIVE BRANCH TO CHRISTIERN

[Joe G]

But wait, there's more!

[clinthopson]

Bullshit I forgot "WETBACKS".

Get your ass to the nearest OPTICAL BARR.

DEEP

p.s. Camel Jockeys is too polite for my taste...I prefer SAND NIGGERS!!

Fuck Optical Barr, Louie's Bar is more my style. Especially when I have to drink for two during the "dry" season.

Howabout "lound eyed bastids."

Gleek Plick?

[Joe G]

But wait, there's more!

SURELY NOT???

Bigotry takes so much time, especially if we're going to consult a list.

I'm too lazy to do that. You ask too much!!!!!

I ask nothing of you, Patricia. I'm merely sharing resources with my fellow board members.

BTW, "dittohead" refers to followers of Rush Limbaugh.

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

Hey Dildies,

I'm pretty unbiased.

I HATE EVERYONE EQUALLY

Especially SPICS...BUT.... MY RANCOR FOR FROGS MAY JUST

...TAKE IT TO A NEW LEVEL!!!

DEEP

Edited December 30, 2003 by DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)

[randissimo]

Yo Deep, where are you hittin' New Years Eve? I've got a weird gig from 2 - 6pm outdoors bangin' on an assortment of tuned brake drums, suspended marimbas, and other strange percussion instruments.. The place is in Cadillac, Mi. If you're curious go to google and type, "sound garden, cadillac, mich"...

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

Yo Deep, where are you hittin' New Years Eve? I've got a weird gig from 2 - 6pm outdoors bangin' on an assortment of tuned brake drums, suspended marimbas, and other strange percussion instruments.. The place is in Cadillac, Mi. If you're curious go to google and type, "sound garden, cadillac, mich"...

RANDALL,

Believe it or not, I'm playin' bass tomorrow night (9-12:30) with an excellent guitarist named Steve Brown. He's the director of Jazz Studies at Ithaca College.

It's gonna just be a duo gig ala Jim Hall and Ron Carter.

Drag is, I gotta stay sober tomorrow to avoid the cold hand of THE MAN.

Then on New Year's Day I get loaded and then when I awaken on Jan. 2nd my boozin' is done until July 4th.

I think I really NEED this year's DRY SEASON. I maxed out this year's WET SEASON.

HAPPY NEW YEAR, RANDALL.

DEEP

[catesta]

Harps

Polacks

Slopes

Butches

Fluffs

Rednecks

Okies

TreeHuggers

Geeks

and

Dittoheads

This reminds me of Ferris Buellers day off when Ed Rooney's secretary is spouting off the list of people that love Ferris.

"they think he's a righteous dude"

Sorry for the interuption. B)

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

With a reputation, in New Orleans as one of the best clarinettists in town,

CLARINETTISTS???

It would appear that you've started celebrating the New Year a little early!!

WOW !!

DEEP

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

I thought you Dildies & Dildsies would like to read his full letter unedited. There are some really beautiful things that Ken Burns left out.

This is from Sullivan Ballou and it was written when a man knew how to write a love letter AND knew how to spell (take note, Patty).

LETTER TO HIS WIFE (1861)

My very dear Sarah:

The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days -- perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more.

Our movement may be one of a few days duration and full of pleasure -- and it may be one of severe conflict and death to me. Not my will, but thine O God, be done. If it is necessary that I should fall on the battlefield for my country, I am ready. I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in, the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans upon the triumph of the Government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing -- perfectly willing -- to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt.

But, my dear wife, when I know that with my own joys I lay down nearly all of yours, and replace them in this life with cares and sorrows -- when, after having eaten for long years the bitter fruit of orphanage myself, I must offer it as their only sustenance to my dear little children -- is it weak or dishonorable, while the banner of my purpose floats calmly and proudly in the breeze, that my unbounded love for you, my darling wife and children, should struggle in fierce, though useless, contest with my love of country?

I cannot describe to you my feelings on this calm summer night, when two thousand men are sleeping around me, many of them enjoying the last, perhaps, before that of death -- and I, suspicious that Death is creeping behind me with his fatal dart, am communing with God, my country, and thee.

I have sought most closely and diligently, and often in my breast, for a wrong motive in thus hazarding the happiness of those I loved and I could not find one. A pure love of my country and of the principles I have often advocated before the people and "the name of honor that I love more than I fear death" have called upon me, and I have obeyed.

Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield.

The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when God willing, we might still have lived and loved together, and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me -- perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar -- that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.

Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have oftentimes been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I cannot. I must watch you from the spirit land and hover near you, while you buffet the storms with your precious little freight, and wait with sad patience till we meet to part no more.

But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night -- amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours -- always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.

Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.

As for my little boys, they will grow as I have done, and never know a father's love and care. Little Willie is too young to remember me long, and my blue-eyed Edgar will keep my frolics with him among the dimmest memories of his childhood. Sarah, I have unlimited confidence in your maternal care and your development of their characters. Tell my two mothers his and hers I call God's blessing upon them. O Sarah, I wait for you there! Come to me, and lead thither my children.

Edited December 31, 2003 by DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

Here are the details of Sullivan Ballou's death:

Major Sullivan Ballou was near the top of the hill, commanding all or part of the Second. Its brand new Lieutenant Colonel, Frank Wheaton, was moving in to take command from Slocum, but it is unclear at what point he came on line or where.

Burnside had riden furiously back down the hill to order up re-inforcements to assist his Rhode Islanders. One unit, the 71st New York, had been forced out of line when artillery wagons and cannons ran through them on their way to the battlefield. The 2nd New Hampshire was not ready to deploy. Desperate, Burnside ordered the First Rhode Island, who were being held in reserve since their enlistment was up, to move through the other units and take the field. The other units were to follow when organized.

The First charged up the hill, and the battery began to return the fire of the Rebel guns. It was necessary for the Second to shift to the left to allow the First to come up along side them. This re-positioning job fell to Major Ballou. He was on his horse, back to the enemy, facing his troops, ordering his Regiment to reform on the left. He did not see the incoming cannon ball which struck him and his horse, Jennie. Both went down.

There was much confusion on the battlefield, and the men running by believed the badly wounded Major Ballou had died. In fact, he suffered a full week from his wounds and died on July 28 as a Southern POW.

and that shit IS

DEEP

[Christiern]

"Big Eye" Louis Nelson was indeed a clarinetist, but I don't believe that he was ever regarded as one of the best. New Orleans owned the clarinet, and its streets often rang with some of the sweetest, woodiest sounds in the land. Alphonse Picou was, I think, a better player on that instrument--also bear in mind Johnny Dodds, Edmond Hall, Jimmie Noone...

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

CHARLIE CORDILLA WAS THE BEST N.O. CLARINETTIST (SIC).

DEEP

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

"Big Eye" Louis Nelson was indeed a clarinetist, but I don't believe that he was ever regarded as one of the best.

Picky. Picky. OK. ONE of the best.

Patty,

You have GOT to either, get to your nearest Optical Barr, or GET OFF THE SAUCE.

Review your reply to Chritiern and tell the group what you think is wrong with it.

DEEP

[clinthopson]

I'm a Jimmy Noone man myself.

You guys with your romantical posts make me all weepy eyed.

I gotta go into training since I have to drink for two from Jan. 2 to JUly 4.

We owe it to the distilling industry.

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

Here's a little New Year's ditty for our fallen brother, STAPLETON:

THERE WERE TWO GIRLS FROM *BIRMINGHAM*

AND THIS IS THE STORY CONCERNING THEM

THEY LIFTED THE FROCK, AND TICKLED THE COCK

OF THE BISHOP WHO WAS CONFIRMING THEM

NOW THE BISHOP WAS NOBODY'S FOOL

FOR HE HAD ATTENDED A LARGE PUBLIC SCHOOL

SO HE PULLED DOWN THEIR BRITCHES

AND BUGGERED THE BITCHES

WITH HIS RIGHT REVEREND EPISCOPAL TOOL!!

DEEP

Edited December 31, 2003 by DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

By Boyd Senter (of Boyd Senter & his Senterpeeds fame),

When you get what you want in your struggle for pelf,

And the world makes you King for a day,

Then go to the mirror and look at yourself,

And see what that guy has to say.

For it isn't your Father, or Mother (IN- LAW), or Wife,

Who judgment upon you must pass.

The feller whose verdict counts most in your life

Is the guy staring back from the glass.

He's the feller to please, never mind all the rest,

For he's with you clear up to the end,

And you've passed your most dangerous, difficult test

If the guy in the glass is your friend.

You may be like *Jack* Horner and "chisel" a plum,

And think you're a wonderful guy,

But the man in the glass says you're only a bum

If you can't look him straight in the eye.

You can fool the whole world down the pathway of years,

And get pats on the back as you pass,

But your final reward will be heartaches and tears

If you've cheated the guy in the glass.

[PATTY, GIVE US A RUN DOWN OF THIS GENIUS]

DEEP

Edited December 31, 2003 by DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

Patty,

Thank you very much for your quick response. (I knew you could do it).

Now then....I have to get some rest because I have a gig tonight (on bass) but please allow me to recommend the following:

Please get off the computer, pour yourself a stiff drink and do one of the following:

1. Call a cab and head to the nearest gin mill and sit at the bar. Wait for a cat to hit on you. Check his wallet for a *ring mark* and if one exists, invite him to your crib and fuck his brains out.

2. Call the nearest bar and order a STUD!!!

3. Fire up Ol' Throbber (your Dildo) and at Midnight.....GO FUCKING NUTS!!

You are a very well preserved 64 year old...PUT IT TO GOOD USE...DUH !!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

DEEP

[clinthopson]

Boyd Senter sounds like Eddie Guest's illegitimate son.

The bathosphere is getting pretty DEEP.

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

Patty,

Thank you very much for your quick response. (I knew you could do it).

Now then....I have to get some rest because I have a gig tonight (on bass) but please allow me to recommend the following:

Please get off the computer, pour yourself a stiff drink and do one of the following:

1. Call a cab and head to the nearest gin mill and sit at the bar. Wait for a cat to hit on you. Check his wallet for a *ring mark* and if one exists, invite him to your crib and fuck his brains out.

2. Call the nearest bar and order a STUD!!!

3. Fire up Ol' Throbber (your Dildo) and at Midnight.....GO FUCKING NUTS!!

You are a very well preserved 64 year old...PUT IT TO GOOD USE...DUH !!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

DEEP

Have a great time.

Your suggestions are noted and for the last time, I'm that tall, not that old.

HAPPY NEW YEAR to you too.

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU, PATTY.

I must fess up....One of my New Year resolutions is that I will refrain from masturbating with you in mind (and I must say...they have been some of my better ejaculations).

I LOVE YOU, PATTY.

DEEP

[clinthopson]

See ya next year !

Edited December 31, 2003 by clinthopson

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

Patty,

Do this small thing for DEEP.

Head to the nearest drug store and pick up a pack of Trojans.

Then take a cab to your local pick-up joint. It's New Years eve.

There have to be several men in their early sixties (possible widowers) who will be willing to squirt all over you. Take one back to your crib and just leap up and down on him until the maple leafs on the Canuck flag have all fallen off.

Every time you have a climax yell out..."DEEP" !!!!!

Make the Dild some coffee in the morning, thank him, and send him on his way.

You'll feel better, I'LL FEEL BETTER FOR YOU, Christiern will respect you, and you will have brought in the NEW YEAR with....

......*A BANG* !!!!

I'd do it for you but I've got a gig and I'm about 3,000 miles away.

HAPPY NEW YEAR !!

DEEP

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

PATTY,

Do it for me. I'll feel much better knowing that you will awaken to the New Year with a smile on your face, satisfied that you have been penetrated properly.

In short: DO IT FOR DEEP!!!

DEEP

p.s. Wear a long sleeve blouse. That Turkey Waddle under your arms could put a kabosh on the evening.

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

TURKEY WATTLE !!!

DEEP

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

SMACK!!!!!!!! REMEMBER. I CAN TAKE YOU, TWO FALLS OUT OF THREE, HOT SHOT.

KINKY !!

I AM AROUSED !!!

DEEP

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

I'm actually going to go to a club downtown to listen to a pretty good trio [i think I mentioned them a while ago to you] , with a group of friends. So, you never know...........

I may not get laid, but I will surely have a couple of glasses of something and a few laughs a couple of dances and somebody will make sure I get home.

PATTY,

If one of your dance partners grinds his grunge into you....

....let your emotions be your guide.

after all...this thread is subtitled...

....."TIME TO UNCLENCH YOUR KEESTER"

Gotta go to work. Looking forward to hearing good news on the dawn of the New Year!!

GO FOR THE GOLD, DEARIE !!

DEEP