Danny Boy

Monopoly

No! It won't work if there is a type of dandelion that cures the common cold. If that were true, we'd all be doomed to ride an ostrich. The long kind, with feathers and a beak. But enough of that. To the issue at hand.....MONOPOLY!!!!!

This game was invented by an ancient Swahili tribe, taken in witchcraft and sorcery. It began as a simple playing game, where one would build hotels on square pieces of land and others would knock them down or burn them while people were still inside. But over time, the game became violent, and there were introduced pieces, a playing board, and fake money. The Swahili people invented Monopoly.

Give a rooster his wings, and he'll show you the movie. But deny him his voice, and the sounds of magic will never be more satisfying.

Don't look back...

Richard was a poor man,
But he loved to play outside.
No one knew why,
But one day he died.

His firstborn donkey
Got the wooden stove.
His eighthborn badger
Got the raspberry grove.

Two men came to the door
Asking for some crumbs.
The butler told them, "Go die,
I have only thumbs."

Bono came to visit
His longtime friend.
The butler told him,
"Richard hit a dead end."

Bono was sad.  He told
Eunice about the event.
She got into a wrath
And burned down Bono's tent.

Bono died, too, which was
Surely a shame.
But England cared not;
It took the blame.

Then Lord Cunningham
Bought a new lasso.
He used it to find
His very own minotaur.

What do I love, you ask?

My wonderful friend BJ showed me this video today and I just had to share it with the rest of the world.  If everyone watched this video once a day, there would be no more wars.  Enjoy.

Timmy

Given the circumstances, I wouldn't put it below anyone to take it from the small child and use it for fuel. But then again, the child could die....meh. That's not the point. The point is that we're at war. Let me tell you a story.

Timmy

It began in the deep wild of Spanish Fork. Timmy crawled out of the log, covered in syrup and leaves. He had been hiding from the enemy for days, subsisting only on waffles and select toppings. As he walked through the field towards the highway, he thought of the last time he saw his family...three days ago on his way to school. It seemed to be almost a dream now. A dream that only a small wooden calf could have. As he got to the highway, he realized that he had only two options. 1. Dance like an Irishman. 2. Kill everyone. His legs were tired from sitting in the log and pumping the bellows to make the fire for to cook his waffles. So he opted for violence. Timmy pulled out his nerf gun and loaded it. Was he ready? Could he pull it off? He took the first shot, an old woman crossing the street with her pet iguana. He nearly missed, but luckily hit her right between the eyes. She looked at him and smiled. Then she fell over and the iguana began licking her arm. Could it really be that easy? Timmy took another shot at the  mechanic across the way. The mechanic screamed, and then stopped screaming and went back to work. This was going just as he had expected. Then Timmy died.

"The Postman of Westminster"

By Zydrunas Ficklepuff

He eats the corn

Without washing his calf.

The wind comes

And makes him cry.

This was not what

He had hoped for.  A

Dead emu, lost pennies,

And sandals made of cheese.

The ev'ning falls,

The wasps scream;

The man takes his gun

And seeks refuge.

He takes aim,

Careful to kill that

Good-for-nothing

Postman of Westminster.

The Postman sees

Only birds and bars,

Not kniving treehuggers.

Why should he care?

He's almost within range...

Two feet more!

Click, boom, thud.

The postman is dead.

Two roads diverged

In a yellow wood.

And I, I shot the postman.

Please don't cry for me.

Goodbye, Mr. Postman.