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carson
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(it's on like neckbone.)
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May 13 01:02 UTC 2002 |
(this is the item where Carson! resumes his relentless pursuit and
humiliation of the cross-dressing, cow-leg-humping, spineless, yellow-
bellied chicken known as senna. those unprepared to witness such events
are advised to move along in blissful ignorance. you have been warned.)
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| 32 responses total. |
carson
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response 1 of 32:
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May 13 01:04 UTC 2002 |
(it's back.)
(truth be told, like herpes, it never really went away. sure, it was
mostly out of sight, out of mind. but the telltale signs were there.
an ebola outbreak here, a Canadian gold medal there... the evidence was
plainer than my last date.)
(senna was still out there. and, like all potential foodstuffs, if left
out long enough, it goes bad. very bad.)
(by all rights, senna should have been eliminated a long time ago. in
fact, if it weren't for a grievous error of judgment, it would have
already been eliminated. I had it cornered, right next to the postage
machine at Meijer's. I can only suspect that it was preparing to make
Sacagaweas out of Susan B's. I was all set to wipe it out, but there were
too many innocents nearby. in that moment, I had to make a decision: let
senna escape and hope to catch it again in a less populated area, or wipe
it out now and create the largest chemical spill since Captain Hazlewood
went on a bender. every subsequent event now weighs heavily on my
conscience.)
(now, instead of merely being the monster in a tale told several years
later to terrorize my puppies' puppies at bedtime, senna has become a
grade-A menace. of course, it's the only time senna has ever earned
an "A" grade. that's a future Trivial Pursuit question for sure.)
(senna has grown over the last year. it is now estimated to weigh an
entire 99 pounds when wet. hazmat teams are terrified of being called
anywhere near its location. deer leap in front of cars so as to avoid
having their legs humped. Fox won't mention it on "America's Most
Wanted." even Canada, which is used to having giant, filthy,
unapproachable beasts hiding out in its wilderness, hopes senna won't come
back.)
(there's no hiding now, senna. I will track you to the remotest,
filthiest places on earth, and I will track you outside of New Jersey,
too. prepare to become a yellow gelatinous smear on whatever piece of
pavement I find you.)
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senna
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response 2 of 32:
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May 13 06:54 UTC 2002 |
Backsliding again? The really pitiable thing about carson is that it always
tempts the same humiliation over and over, expecting different results. There
is a scientific term for this--however, I am feeling merciful, and I won't
disturb carson's already fragile psyche with words longer than three
syllables.
It's been a difficult life for carson, sleeping in roadside ditches, begging
for assistance from homeless people who look like they have a few extra pieces
of garbage, always looking over its shoulder. The long months since that
fateful encounter at Meijer have not done carson well. I remember it clearly,
a crisp friday evening at the U-Scan station. I knew carson was coming, of
course, his smell wafting in through the door shortly after his vehicle
crossed the '94 bridge. It took a while for him to see me, however, and we
first became aware that he knew of my presence when we heard a horrified
screech followed by prolonged wailing. That porcelain-shattering utterance
destroyed half of the housewares department, we discovered later.
I assigned a cashier to relieve me, so I could locate the mutt. I found it
curled into the fetal position, quivering in fear as it tried to hide itself
under the grocery conveyor. "Carson," I said, "I'm afraid you're going to
have to leave the store." Fresh wailing ensued, a noise that can be best
described as a cross between fingernails on a chalkboard and a newborn
suffering circumsision.
"Please don't hurt me!" cried carson. "I'll do anything, just dont' come near
me! I'm so sorry for dating your neighbor's beagle! I won't do it again!
Please no no NO NO don't come near meeeeeeee!" It was truly pathetic. I
stood there watching it embarrass itself as a service bagger left to fetch
a mop and bucket to clean up the warm, expanding puddle of urine coming from
under it. I had two choices: pick it up and slam it around for a few minutes
before tossing it on the street in full view of the guests and resign myself
to washing my hands 15 or 20 times, or have Security remove it on the grounds
that its stench was spoiling all of the produce in the store and breaking the
cash registers.
Ultimately, carson made the choice; with cries of "Oh please God noooooo stay
awaaaaayyyyy!" it frantically scraped its feet under itself, attempted to run,
slipped on its own urine, and finally regained its footing and fled the
premises. Within days, terror had returned to the dog populations of such
exotic places as Fargo, North Dakota, and Regina, Sasketchewan. Sad. I have
kept close tabs on this pathetic excuse for a lifeform since that fateful,
humiliating scene at Meijer (security videotapes with eardrum-piercing audio,
only $19.95 each) in the best interests of humanity.
I see the balls have finally dropped, poodlesquirt, but I'm sure that this
false pretense of "courage" will last about as long as it takes me to drive
to your location and lay a beating so severe that Springer would ban video
footage for being "way too extreme." My only regret is that you have decided
to stick that puny head out in the open on mother's day, because your mother
will be crying when I'm finished with you.
Worry not, sensetive souls-she will be crying tears of joy, for the guilt of
bringing carson into the world will be hers no longer. It will be my
satisfaction in taking him *out*.
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jaklumen
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response 3 of 32:
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May 13 07:07 UTC 2002 |
hahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!
(and then some.)
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carson
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response 4 of 32:
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May 14 01:35 UTC 2002 |
(I see the intervening months have only served to further addle the
senna's primitive brain. it's always amusing to see such power
fantasies from a creature without a functioning sexual organ.)
(the senna would have us believe it capable of being able to
effectively use multisyllabic terms, but the truth is it can't even
count past three. the last time it tried, it ended up staring at the
webbing on its feet for hours. how many hours? who cares; it can't
count that high anyway.)
(despite its hideous appearance, the senna is truly a bioengineering
feat. who knew that a creature could grow to be so big without a spine
to hold it upright? who knew that a creature could obtain escape
velocity merely by urinating, and on itself at that? who knew that a
creature could get its jollies from humping the legs of sleeping cows
to a vibrant yellow hue?)
(every time the senna exhales, it breaks air quality laws in most
countries, not to mention forty-nine states [the exception being New
Jersey]. if God weren't waiting for a suitable virgin, He surely would
have already sent His Second Begotten Son down to smite it.)
(you can't hide under your mommie's skirt anymore, senna, and you can't
fool me by wearing your own, you lipstick & lace FREAK. I'm going to
shove both of your stiletto heels so far up your rectum you'll look
like Big Bird shishkabob. and then I'm going to pluck your feathers,
one by mottled one, and send them in to find the stilettos. and then
I'm going to find a spine, and shove it in after that. and THEN I'm
going to beat you to a greasy pulp that will bear greater resemblence
to lemon curd than the 6' 3", 99lb., makeup-wearing, pinky-extending,
tiny-teacup-drinking, Barbra Streisand-listening, cow-leg-humping,
loose-kidneyed, mutant chicken FREAK you are.)
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jazz
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response 5 of 32:
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May 15 15:19 UTC 2002 |
Uhm, you go. No really. Go. Now.
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senna
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response 6 of 32:
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May 15 18:39 UTC 2002 |
Wow, that was sad. I will give carson one thing--remarkable few typos,
considering how often it types with one hand. Very impressive work, and
a pity it had to be wasted on a response so bereft of thought, reason,
and humor.
I have intercede on carson's behalf to the rest of the grex population:
Please do not judge him just because he is a poodle-hopping brown-nosing
weasely piece of mutt incapable of anything remotely approaching
thought, that could frighten a broken-down scavenging rodent with an
anxiety problem *only* if it is directly downwind of his vile
outhouse-air-is-pleasant-by-comparison fragrance. Judge him because he
is a bootlicking incompetent who would viciously backstab everyone he
knew if only he could 1. reach above their thighs and 2. not break into
shrill crying fits every time a complex idea, such as hygiene or fast
food, crosses his mind.
Carson is a pathetic "figure" (if a shameful accident that appears to be
composed mostly of the fecal matter strewn about its exterior and
perhaps a soft clay that mirrors the whining mental infirmity so well
characterized by the toddler-level inane ravings that come from its
mouth can be called a figure) (the beauty of a characterization as long
as the previous one is that the sentence is too complex for the cretin
being characterized to decode. Carson's perpetually tear-laden eyes
cross on any sentence more complicated than "See Jane Run.") that should
be be understood before it is judged. As such, I have provided a
snippet of dialogue taken from an earlier meeting between myself and the
scumsucker.
SENNA: "Nice night tonight at Top of the Park. I haven't seen
tonight's movie, does anybody know if it is any good?"
CARSON: "I just wet myself."
SENNA: "Uh huh. Looks like it has youth appeal--look at all of the
kids surrounding the stage ready to get a seat right under the screen."
CARSON: "Children? Like, small ones? I have suddenly decided that I
should get a seat on the stage."
SENNA: "Down boy. You've begun to take interest in humans again?"
CARSON: "No, children are scary, they could beat me up, like this one
time when I was walking down the street at Northern Michigan after
bribing the school president to let me stay in school despite being me
being an incompetent moron, some kid from a place called "Ebart School"
in Sault Ste Marie punched me and stole my wallet while I was curled up
crying on the sidewalk. Most dogs won't fight back, as long as I tie
them down first."
SENNA: "So this was a high school gangster or something?"
CARSON: "No, a first-grader. Really scary-looking, though, and I still
have nightmares about him beating me up when I wake up from the septic
tank fields that I have to sleep in because for some odd reason nobody
will come within fifteen feet of me unless they're a horny old man
that's roaring drunk. Oh, dear, that sentence was long. My brain is
killing me from the effort. I'm going to curl up and cry now until I
feel better."
SENNA: "Try not to make too much of a mess, please."
CARSON: "<moan> <whimper> Poor me. <Wail>"
SENNA: "Carson, I asked you not to make a mess."
CARSON: "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAH! NO please don't hurt me
don'thurtmedon'thurt me pleaaaaassseeeeeeeeee I didn't mean it I'll make
it better I'll do anything!"
As you can see, there's plenty of evidence to judge for yourself. Don't
just presume to judge it simply because you can smell it from three
miles.
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jared
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response 7 of 32:
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May 15 22:00 UTC 2002 |
Looks like someone purchased a Thesaurus
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senna
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response 8 of 32:
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May 15 23:07 UTC 2002 |
Are you kidding? Carson couldn't possibly lift a thesaurus off the ground.
I've seen it try such tasks, too, and I can't say I'm very impressed; three
weak tugs and then a prolonged sulking section in the nearest corner gets
nothing done.
I received this in my mailbox recently. See what you think.
Date: Wed, 15 May 2002 18:41:40 -0400
From: Carson <cariz@agora.ulaval.ca>
To: Military Insanity <senna@cyberspace.org>
Subject: Be my friend?
(Hi there, Senna. How are you doing today? I am okay. I had a nasty crying
fit last night that kept me awke, but am feelng betr. I must say that yur
commnt about me earlier was hurtfl. sorry about the typin, i m only typin with
1 hand. Its ok that yu hurt me [i tried spllin out u, becus i kknow you don't
like it when people only use one lettr, im sorry dont hurt me]. Im not angry.
I was wondrng if yu would be willing to stop making fun of me in that foolish
item i strted where i tried to hurt you. I was jealous becuse your bigger than
me and becus i was so emb... emb... humil... stupid feeling with how you
ejected me from meyers.)
(I'd lke to make it up to yu, mke it worth your wile to stop noticing me. i
trd selling myself for $$ when i had fled to san fran... fransisko? to get
away from yu, but nobody wanted me. i beg'd at the democratic nt'l convenshon,
too, but evrybody thaut i was just going to buy booze. So I dont have any
money to bribe you with. Oh good, I can type with two hands now. I messed
up my "Modern dog breeding" magazeen, tho, and Ill need to buy another 1.
I hate when this happens.)
(Anyway, I can't bribe you, but i could do things for you, help you make $$
or something. I'll do anything if you promise not to hurt me. Please, Senna,
I still wake up at night screaming when I think your coming to get me. Even
the Chiwawas run away from me now, I think because they know your going to
kill me. Please don't hurt me Senna! I promise I'll do better, I promise
to try to improve. I'll even try to get wet and use that deoderent stuff you
told me about.)
(Please don't hurt me! Please I'm begging you, I'll get better I promise just
don't hurt me anymore please!!!!)
Your loving servant,
Carson
I suppose I should email it back. It *almost* makes you think twice about
the deserved fate of the creature. Almost.
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carson
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response 9 of 32:
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May 16 01:22 UTC 2002 |
(now, kids, THAT'S what happens when you use drugs. if you're a
chicken, that is.)
(I suppose I should take a brief moment to summarize for those who are
joining the hunt late. For those uninitiated few, I offer this primer.)
See chicken.
See chicken cluck.
Cluck, chicken, cluck.
See scientists.
See scientists with turkey baster.
What's in the turkey baster?
See chicken look uncomfortable.
See chicken give birth to senna.
See chicken faint.
See senna wet itself.
Silly senna.
See senna.
See senna see turkey baster.
Senna asks, "are you my daddy?"
See senna.
See senna try to think.
See senna twitch.
See other eggs fall out of nest.
See eggs break on ground.
Uh-oh.
See senna stare.
See senna stare some more.
See senna stare for hours.
Why is senna staring?
See senna.
See senna push eggs.
See eggs fall out of nest.
See yolk all over floor.
No more eggs!
See senna cry.
See senna wet itself.
See senna crap itself.
See senna see crap.
See senna smear crap on barn wall.
Smear, senna, smear.
See cow.
See senna see cow.
See senna hump cow leg.
Hump, senna, hump.
See cow.
See cow leg.
The cow leg is yellow.
See cow try to get away.
See cow jump fence.
See senna jump fence.
Where did senna go?
See senna confused.
See senna see cow.
See senna chase cow.
See senna leave long trail of fecal matter behind it.
(...and that is how the senna was created and came to be unleashed upon
an unsuspecting populace. there's certainly more that could be
written, as senna discovers women's clothing, make-up, and baby seals.
but there's no point in describing its chemically-shortened existence
any further, as it's merely the smallest of yellow stains on the book
of life. however, I do invite all to See carson turn senna into 99
lbs. of yellow soup in a matter of moments.)
(tick tock. tick tock.)
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carson
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response 10 of 32:
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May 16 01:29 UTC 2002 |
(the senna would be more intimidating if it had a battlecry that didn't
sound so much like "MOMMMMMMY!!" as squealed by a pig in a
slaughterhouse. as a big, speedy, anorexic bird, the only two things
separating the senna from the Road Runner are the color scheme and a
brain stem. ok, the skirt. and the high heels, too. can't forget the
grime, either.)
(unfortunately, the efforts of others to eliminate the senna have
proven unsuccessful. there was a point where sharpshooters were ready
to take it out, but, to their horror, they discovered the senna's lack
of bathing caused its matted feathers to form what can best be
described as a bulletproof exoskeleton. the resulting ricochets
injured three sleeping cows.)
(what frightens me is that the scientists at Michigan State University
actually are considering *repeating* The Senna Experiment
[a.k.a. "Project Boot-Shaped McNugget"]. obviously they haven't
learned that sequels usually are disastrous for all involved. of
course, this is the same university that spent a week putting a hockey
rink on top of a perfectly good football field. then again, it's not
as if their football team knew what to do with the field. but I
digress.)
(I am going to enjoy the deliciousness of this final encounter, delight
in the brutality as I crush the senna like a cockroach, rejoice at the
skill at which I reconstruct its bruised carcass, and swim with glee as
I crush it again. the scene of its demise will resemble a yellow
paintball shoot-out, the only identifiable object being the Sanrio
purse the senna lifted earlier from a terrified Japanese toddler as it
proceeded to hump the leg of some poor guy in a cow costume.)
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scott
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response 11 of 32:
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May 16 01:30 UTC 2002 |
{Senna, next time use "Cat Fancy" magazine in place of "Modern Dog Breeding".
Other than that, quite nice.}
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senna
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response 12 of 32:
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May 18 16:26 UTC 2002 |
So I was back in the 'hood friday evening thinking about the meaning of life
as i stepped over carson's bleeding carcas. see, in chitown we can't have
'guns' and i need to remove my giant metaphoric 'sword' from the thigh of the
'mutt' (it disgusts me to even call a mangy goat-breeder this vile a
'recognized' dog breed (the clintonistas always bleed their hearts to protect
the 'little guy' and 'all animals,' but even they won't touch this cretin)).
strangely enough the 'mutt' was still 'whimpering,' begging for mercy from
my wise 'judgement' that it should not be allowed to live. i was going to put
it out of its `misery' but I heard the `man' coming and I realized that if
they saw me killing carson, they would probably put `it' on `life-support'
until carson `assaulted' somebody, and then they would throw him in jail.
I cant let that happen, though, because of the `diseases' he would `spread'
to a `prison population' that must have at least a few `good' apples.
So `carson' is lying there, calling for `mommy' (the last time it saw its
mother, he had her chained down so she couldnt flee in terror like she
normally does when he comes calling. It was january of '00 and carson had
promised a `repairman' favors, and money that he didn't `have,' to knock on
his mom's door and get inside by saying he was a Y2k inspector checking to
make sure her water-drums were okay and then chain her down. The inspector
never got his money, of course (though the inspectors dog did catch a nice
case of genital herpes) and would have killed carson himself if he didn't
faint dead away from the smell the first time carson caught him and stuck
himself in the same room. but back to my story) and twitching slightly and
smelling like something that is both dead and suffering from a massive case
of `bowel irritation'. The problem with disposing of carson in a way that
will appease a population with more hopes for death and dismemberment than
star wars `fans' have expectations for their `movies' is that he is still a
public health hazard, and I can't just toss him in the nearest lake when I
kick his `booty.' Most of the times when I have kicked his `booty' he has used
the fumbling intervention of local `authorities' who think that they can just
chain him from a `wall' and then find that his head is so devoid of thought
that it will actually `slip' through the `noose' to escape.
But it's `on' now `carson,' and youd better start running, because we all want
your hide now. Even Nai-Nai thinks she can `take' you, and she can, because
you're a limp-minded dog-licking lassie-watching humane-society-pimp-bait
embarassment who couldn't life his own `arms' above its `head' without gasping
from the strain of thinking of anything `higher' than `good canine head'
(interesting story about the last poodle you tried to pick up, she came home
whimpering to her owner covered with blood, and the owner took `her' to the
`vet' to find out what was wrong. The `vet' couldn't figure out what to do
with her, since all the blood wound up belonging to carson (having just been
beaten to a pulp by yours truly) but he did mention that the poodle appeared
to be more embarassed that your pathetic `display' actually managed to get
behind her `once' before she fought you off (of course i supplied the
information about your preferences and lack of success with dogs, but the
`vet' filled in the rest once i got there)). You're Nai-Nai's bitch now,
poodlesquirt, and youd better `watch' out.
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ea
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response 13 of 32:
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May 18 17:05 UTC 2002 |
senna is bdh?
my head hurts.
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carson
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response 14 of 32:
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May 19 02:13 UTC 2002 |
(...and senna's entire body would hurt if it had an organ capable of
registering and processing the extreme amounts of pain I intend to
inflict upon it. however, the beating will be so swift and merciless
that my knuckles won't even bleed until I'm done.)
(so the big yellow chicken wants to masquerade as an orange gopher?
I'll be happy to help you match the color scheme by bringing all of
your blood in contact with oxygen as I pulverize your entire skeletal
structure. and though it's not quite the look you're seeking, the rest
of the planet could sure 'gopher' you taking on the appearance of four-
day-old roadkill.)
(it's over, senna. your borrowed time is past due and I'm coming to
collect. search for Carrottop and Alyssa Milano all you want.
there'll be no savings for you as I 'dial' my furious fists down
your 'center', leaving your halved, urine-stained carcass with a leg
twitching on each side, still trying to make a fruitless escape.)
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carson
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response 15 of 32:
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May 19 02:14 UTC 2002 |
PETA CLARIFIES POSITION ON THE SENNA
Group Wants Carson To "Kill It Already"
For Immediate Release:
May 18, 2002
Contact:
Stefanie Knight 757-622-7382
Louisville, Ky. -- PETA officials are taking the unusual step of
publicly supporting Carson in his efforts to exterminate a large,
enuretic bird dubbed "the Senna." Although this appears to contradict
earlier statements made by PETA in regards to the now 17-month long
hunt, a group spokesperson was quick to clear up the confusion.
"When we said we wanted the Senna 'taken care of,' people seemed to
think that we wanted it spared so that we could put it on one of our
free-range farms and let it live out its days in peace," says PETA
spokesperson Jay Kelly. "Nothing could have been further from the
truth. We believe in the ethical treatment of animals, not in
protecting biologically engineered freaks that torment other animals
by humping their legs and poisoning their drinking supplies."
PETA is currently running a game on their PETAKids.com website where
children can play "Wack-A-Senna" and vote on how they would like to see
the Senna exterminated.
"Killing off the Senna is essential to our credibility as an animal-
rights organization," says PETA Vegan Campaign Director Bruce
Friedrich. "No one wants to hear 'Save the chickens!' when there's a
6-foot-6, 99-pound bird terrorizing the populace."
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senna
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response 16 of 32:
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May 19 02:33 UTC 2002 |
I see you still cannot provide evidence to support your lies, carson.
Instead, you continue to use your red herrings (actually, you'd get
beated to a bloody pulp by a herring if you ever met one) to avoid the
issues. Your anti-civilizic hatred is painfully clear. Your own words
betray you. Consider response #0:
> this is the item where Carson! resumes his... cow-leg humping.
You cannot defend or change your statements, carson. It is clear what
you intend with such garbage. Consider this from response #1:
> I had to... terrorize my puppies' puppies.
You can't equivocate away your own words, carson. Your intent is
clear, and you cannot possibly claim otherwise. You are an animal-
raping savage incapable of human thought, and claims to the contrary
are laughably errant.
Here are some of today's headlines:
From the Detroit News:
12:22 Carson seen fleeing Pontiac sewer trailing blood, collapses into
a drainage ditch and bawls uncontrollably.
13:48 Redford Humane Society reports breakin when high-pitched yowls
are emitted from a pathetic, feces-covered creature that is attempting
to escape a sheepdog cage it has forcibly entered. Creature briefly
held before fleeing the scene crying "mommy! mommy!"
From the Detroit Free Press:
15:54 Carson is reported to have appeared at the St. Joseph Hospital
Emergency department, but is turned down on the grounds that he should
seek the assistance of a veterinarian.
16:18 Carson requests treatment for an "owie" on his arm at the Huron
Valley Humane society
16:24 Carson beaten to a bloody pulp when HVHS recognizes it and calls
Steve for assistance
You deny, deny, deny, but the truth is that Civilization-haters like
you can only avoid the issues. I talk about the issues, and all you
can do is provide excuses. You never have answered my questions and
the facts I presented in Agora36: item 31, resp 12, and you cannot
provide answers for your disgraceful views and disgusting behavior now,
either. Where are your answers, carson?
The silence is deafening.
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senna
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response 17 of 32:
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May 19 03:17 UTC 2002 |
As anyone is capable of seeing for themselves, carson is completely off
the deep end. Indeed, I would like to believe that this is a recent
development, but of course it isn't. This is in fact part V of the six-
part "Carson" series, creatively entitled "Dog Wars." I suppose I
should provide a quick summary so that viewers will gain an appropriate
understanding of Carson's vile idiocy.
Dog Wars IV: A New Victim: Carson attempts to make love to an
attractive poodle named Lay-a and is strongly rebuffed. Carson’s new
plan is to create the ultimate weapon, a weapon so powerful that it
will strike fear into all who come near him—which is to say that
Carson eats a ten-pack of Taco Bell bean burritos. Carson is
embarrassed and humiliated and gets its ass kicked by Senna.
Dog Wars V: Carson Strikes Out: (current episode) Carson hides out in
the snow-bound world of Marquette, Michigan, in a vain attempt to flee
the justice of Senna. Carson’s attempts to woo Lay-a continue to fail
miserably, and she pees on his leg. Carson searches for a wise teacher
in the sewage-laden swamps that are the only place left that he can
sleep without being kicked, but instead it simply continues to use
really awful grammar. Carson is embarrassed and humiliated and gets
its ass handed to it by Senna.
Dog Wars VI: Return of the Cretin: (stay tuned) Carson discovers that
Lay-a is actually its half-sister (both fathered by a degenerate
Doberman named Butch), and tries to make love to her anyway. Carson
attempts to rebuild its ultimate weapon with a trip to Taco Bell, but
is embarrassed and humiliated and gets its ass destroyed by Senna first.
Exciting, isn't it? Keep your eyes peeled. Don't forget, though, that
there are also prequels.
Dog Wars I: A Phantom Disgrace: Carson is hatched. As a puppy, Carson
believes itself to be in slavery, but in fact is just whining about
having to take out the garbage. Carson later escapes when it learns
about a worldwide peacekeeping order called "Grex." Carson apprentices
itself in hopes of joining the laptop-wielding order of Grexians known
as "board-members." Carson meets an older canine who tells him "Ah'm a
Dog, uh," which Carson's vile ears interpret as "Amidogla."
Dog Wars II: Attack of the Wabbits: Carson is older now, already well-
versed in the ways of animal-assault and idiocy, when it meets Amidogla
again. Amidogla is disgusted with Carson and rejects it. Meanwhile,
chaos reigns in the great galactic "cyberspace," as a rival order known
as "M-net" that has long followed the dark side of the bbs begins to
infiltrate the Grexian order. Only an army of occasionally annoying
but otherwise harmless users from India, led by the wise old patriarch
of the Grexian order known as "Yoda-Watts," frightens off the dark side
patrons of "M-net." Carson finally makes it with Amidogla in the end.
Dog Wars III: Reign of Error: Carson, filled with anger at constant
rejection and its own complete inability to function in society,
betrays Grex and turns to the dark side of the bbs and an empire
called "Chinet." Senna heroically appears for the first time to teach
Carson a lesson. Carson is humiliated and embarrassed and gets its
first whooping from Senna. Meanwhile, the two creatures that were
Carson's offspring that Carson never knew about are sequestered,
retrained, and adopted by a loving family of Gerbils. The secret is
safe.
Just to catch all of you up. We're just getting through
the "embarrassed" part of Ep V, and the "Humiliated" part is coming
shortly.
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carson
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response 18 of 32:
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May 19 03:40 UTC 2002 |
(yammer on, senna. it is clear that you can't hear anything over your
mantra of propaganda, and that you could care less if your "sources"
are 100% at odds with what the rest of us know to be true.)
(perhaps if Senna had bothered to read any of its sources instead of
merely cutting-and-pasting, it would have noticed that the Humane
Society already has given financial support to several pro-Carson lobby
groups. it also would have noticed that the Barak peace plan calls for
protecting drinking water supplies by providing arms to Carson, clearly
indicating support for his efforts.)
(while Senna persists in dilatory responses that bear no relevance to
the discussion at hand, I will merely point out that I answered its
questions well before it thought to ask them, in resp:Agora36,1,39 as a
matter of fact. however, I do not expect senna to retreat from its
morally indefensible position.)
(you are truly a pathetic, lying hypocrite.)
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carson
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response 19 of 32:
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May 19 04:40 UTC 2002 |
(poor, poor senna.)
(obviously, if the senna were a true connoisseur of all things "Dog
Wars"-related, it would remember the "Dog Wars Holiday Special.")
Dog Wars Holiday Special: The story revolves around Senna's family as
the Senna tries to find its way back to its home barn in time for "Egg
Day." During the two-hour episode, the audience is introduced to its
mother Henna, its brother Yolka, its sister Yella, and its dad, which
is apparently a half-emptied turkey baster. The show features the
Senna warbling the infamous classic "I'll Be Home For Egg Day [After
I Finish Humping This Cow Leg]." It also features guest appearances by
Jon Pratt, John Grey, Jared Mauch, Scott Helmke, and Eric Abrams. None
of them wanted to be associated with the project, but they were
apparently tricked into participating. It turns out that they also
provided the only star power on the show, as the Carson was too busy
sharpening its blades in preparation for its starring role in the Oscar-
winning flick "Carson Beats The Holy Hell Out Of Some Giant Yellow
Coward That Desperately Needs It."
(the best thing about the Holiday Special is that it NEVER RAN AGAIN,
much like the senna after I've finished tearing off both of its legs
and feeding them to it. the senna can continue to live in fantasy land
where all the dogs have hanging guts and wear sweats with elastic that
gave up the ghost ten years and sixty pounds ago, but reality is a son
of bitch, and it's preparing to lay the smack down on the senna's crap-
caked ass.)
(so, you leg-loving, egg-smashing, sulfur-staining, excrement-smearing,
urinal-cake-eating, matted-feathered, water-polluting, lipstick-
wearing, high-heeled, pirouetting, physics-defying, Hello-Kitty-
admiring, pillow-biting, polytheistic-praying, estrogen-secreting,
double-Y-chromosome-having, yellow bastard FREAK. you're obviously
not going to go quietly, because the beating I'm going to give you will
register on the Richter scale. you might as well start calling me
Alcatraz, because you're not going to escape. this is death row, and
I've already pulled the switch.)
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senna
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response 20 of 32:
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May 19 08:01 UTC 2002 |
There it goes again.
"double-Y-chromosome-having?" You really need to turn the computer off
when you're at home alone on a Saturday night getting piss-drunk to
forget the restless nights you've spent in sewage pools hoping that
your odor won't smell too much worse than city refuse and lead me onto
you. You needn't have worried--I know where your pathetic excuse for a
hide is at all times--but I guess there's no helping the feeble-minded.
Your "answers" in said responses were easily refuted by the facts more
than a year ago (the most relevant fact being that I have before and I
will again kick your ass any time, any place), but you go on ignoring
any and all facts when it suits you to do so. Your intellectual
vacancy is transparent to all. You have an interesting view
of "donations by the humane society," too; I've never heard that phrase
used for a desperately revolted janitor saying "Please, take anything,
just take your smell away!" before.
What more to say? Your infection of planet earth fast draws through
the twilight of its reign of error. The disease that is carson shall
soon be swept from this planet, as easily as a hot chainsaw through
butter, with more mess. Most humans dream about the future and the
promise it holds. Carson, lacking the fundamental characteristic held
by the subject of the previous sentence, may attempt to dream of the
future, but only nightmares will come out. After all, Carson's future
is me--and I'm going to wipe it off the face of this earth.
I am your future, Carson. The bloody destruction you will suffer at my
hands is the destiny you have feared and known. Prepare for
eradication.
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jaklumen
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response 21 of 32:
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May 19 23:47 UTC 2002 |
resp:19 indeed, jaklumen stumbled onto the set of "The Holiday
Special," when some scruffy mutt named carson wandered by and insisted
he needed some parts. lumen asked for compensation, which was met
with a lot of limp wrist-waving with some half-assed rhyme consisting
of 'Yooper credits will do fine, foo'/May my Force be in you'. "You
think you're an M-Netter, waving your hand around like that? I'm a
whiskery janitor-type guy," lumen said. "Bad jokes don't work on me,
only money." Unfortunately, he lost a bet with carson involving doggy-
style pod racing-- *you* figure out the innuendo on that one.
So, lumen decided to participate, being bored as hell anyway, and he
wound up appearing in a smelly TRU Geoffrey costume, trying to impress
extras with his knowledge of music. senna appeared soon enough, all
bony, waify, and pointy-eared, confused because lumen no longer had
his head shaved and had more hair on his face. "Get away from me, I'm
not a fookin' cow!" and "That's just wrong," complete with senna
squatting and shaking to pee on the floor (and everyone's feet), were
some of the sad outtakes thankfully not included in the Special.
The CDC and the Humane Society appeared on set shortly after shooting
was completed, upon which carson and senna began whizzing again at
random, insisting it was a pissing contest. They failed to notice
that they lost control of their bladders, and the two organizations
whisked them away. It is rumored that they are trying for appearances
in fan conventions and infomercials.
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carson
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response 22 of 32:
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May 20 13:10 UTC 2002 |
(what in the bloody BLUE HELL was that?)
resp:20 (I have already seen the future, eggsucker. This is the
future):
King Carson II sat on his throne, contemplating the events at
breakfast. Ever since his father, the legendary Carson, had vanquished
the Yellowed One, there had been peace in the land. The success had
cemented Carson's status as an unprecedented icon. Other, more
difficult hunts began to take on long-deserved mythical proportions as
people sought to cash in on Carson's popularity. A baby boom nearly
became the next international crisis as women insisted on naming their
newborns after Carson (the junior Carson knew, perhaps only
subconsciously, that there might be other reasons than post-traumatic
bliss for the higher birth rate, as his father had been known to be a
bit randy). Licensing deals put Carson's pictures on lunch boxes,
video games, sports cars, hockey teams... Carson's picture was
everywhere. A cable channel was devoted to highlights and
dramatizations of his previous hunts. It was no surprise that he was
elected president shortly after his retirement. What *was* surprising
was that nearly every other country wanted to claim him as their ruler
as well. The Hindu nations were especially thankful, as they had
considered the Yellowed One an unholy terror. Just three years after
the Yellowed One's demise, the world was Carson's.
Yet there were those who still opposed Carson. In a benevolent
gesture, he had spared the lives of the Michigan State University
scientists responsible for the Yellowed One's creation, instead exiling
them to New Jersey. Rumours that they had begun to continue the work
that had led to the Yellowed One could never be substantiated, and when
Carson eventually died from priapism, there was general agreement that
his son should take over the new family business. But the junior
Carson didn't want to run the brothel, so he let one of his brothers
handle that business, while he took over the royal duties.
Carson II was not as popular as his dad had been, and the stresses were
starting to show. Fewer women were joining the harem. Children had
gone back to idolizing the anime du jour. People started watching
hockey games and enjoying them. Even his own staff could occasionally
be heard muttering. Carson II usually chose to ignore it, but this
morning...
The morning routine had been unchanged for years: romp with the
concubines, play a round of ADOM, and then sit down to a breakfast of
raw meat and whiskey. However, this morning was different. Perhaps
the chef was playing a practical joke, a very unfunny one. When Carson
II sat down to breakfast, he was not presented with the usual repast.
Instead, he was served with an uncooked ostrich egg, a chicken breast
smothered in saffron sauce, and a glass of lemonade, slightly spilled.
The chef's execution was swift, yet it was nowhere near the speed with
which his father had slaughtered the Yellowed One those many years
ago. The king was not in the physical shape his father had been in;
royal excesses had migrated to his waist. If a new Yellowed One were
to emerge as a threat to his kingdom, would he be able to deal with
it? The thought furrowed his brow. Perhaps the time had finally come
to wipe out New Jersey.
---
(...not that anyone cares. the point is that *I'm* successful, and
*you* don't have a future. in fact, the beating that I plan to deal
to you will be so swift and brutal that it will warp the space-time
continuum and leave you a yellow splotch four years before you were
fertilized. when I said you were living on borrowed time, I meant it,
you feathered FREAK, and your credit has hit junk bond status.)
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jaklumen
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response 23 of 32:
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May 20 13:25 UTC 2002 |
<I'm a Toys R Us Kid! screams jaklumen, chortling maniacally in his
Geoffrey costume>
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bhelliom
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response 24 of 32:
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May 21 16:04 UTC 2002 |
Hey . . . has anyone bought rights to toy distribution?
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