I’ve just got to be the most authentic person that I know of.
No bones about it.
No two ways about it.
Not a snowball’s chance in hell.
Not in a coon’s age.
Not until the pope’s not catholic.
Not until the bear doesn’t shit in the woods.
Not until my shit don’t stink.
Not until the end justifies the meanies.
Now therefore, let not my blood fall to the earth before the face of the lord: for the king of Israel is come out to seek a flea, as when one doth hunt a partridge in the mountains.
I’d walk a mile for a camel and dive a fathom for a glucose fahrt. Shiver me timbers. Bout ready to hit the sack to munch kurds and whey Don’t now how to put this but many hans make short gretles.
Although disputed by some, the origin of assassin was probably the Arabic word for hashish-eater. At the time of the Crusades, it is said that fanatical warriors were sent forth by their sheikh, the Old Man of the Mountains, to murder the Christian leaders. One text of around 1860 explains: ‘The assassins, who are otherwise called the People of the Man of the Mountain, before they attacked an enemy, would intoxicate themselves with a powder made of hemp-leaves, out of which they prepared an inebriating electuary, called hashish.”
And if any man hunger, let him eat at home. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face.
The homes of the natives are the woods and groves; they worship the gods severally and in congregations; all discord and all sorrow is unknown. Death comes to them only when, owing to satiety of life, after holding a banquet and anointing their old age with luxury, they leap from a certain rock into the sea: this mode of burial is the most blissful.
No crown indeed has been a higher honour than the crown of grass among the rewards for glorious deeds given by the sovereign people, lords of the earth. Jewelled crowns, golden crowns, crowns for scaling enemy ramparts or walls, or for boarding men-of-war, the civic crown for saving the life of a citizen, the triumph crown—these were instituted later than this grass crown, and all differ from it greatly, in distinction as in character. All the others have been given by individuals and personally by generals and commanders to their soldiers, or occasionally to their colleagues, or have been decreed in triumphs by a Senate freed from the anxiety of war and by a people enjoying peace; the grass crown has never been conferred except upon the leader of a forlorn hope, being voted only by the whole army and only to him who rescued it. The other crowns have been conferred by commanders, this alone on a commander by his soldiers. The same crown is called the siege crown when a whole camp has been relieved and saved from awful destruction. But if the civic crown is deemed a glorious and hallowed distinction because the life has been saved of only one and even maybe the lowliest citizen, what, pray, ought to be thought of the preservation of a whole army by the courage of one man? This crown used to be made from green grass pulled up from the site where the besieged men had been relieved by some one. For in old times it was the most solemn token of defeat for the conquered to present grass to their conquerors, for to do so meant that they withdrew from their land, from the very soil that nurtured them and even from means of burial. This custom, I know, exists even today among the Germans.
Cures pain in few moments. Dr. Smith’s Electric Oil gives almost instant relief in all nervous diseases. Acute rheumatic pains need only a few applications. Dr. Smith may be consulted at the Smithsonian House, and at 91 Hudson Street. Try it. Say you read it in Stephen H. Branch’s Alligator.
All the twitter is about all the rash of reports of random number generators crashing — in at least one case setting a woman’s hair on fire during her passage through border security. She was positively identified by a tooth found in the ashes. A spokesperson for Homeland Incorporated says that the incident is under investigation, but that, knock on wood, no government personnel were harmed during the filming.
Could it happen to you? And when it does, will you be ready?
Here’s the low down on upping your chances of living out this bug:
The default option is to collapse white space, unless you know you’re falling into a black hole, then they say to hop away, don’t get rung up like Cassiday on his flying trapeeze.
Genghis Con and his brooders inseminated half the women in christendom, blessed be the fodder. Those Mongolians know how to eat, blasted be the mudder.
The Troglodites myne them selves caves in the grounde, wherin to dwell.
— W. Watreman, Fardle of Facions, 1555, i. vi. 93