is he dead yet

PirateClock · November 01, 2005, 06:27:52 PM

Quote from: MelloYelloClockI had a dream I was drowning in pudding.

how do you know all this isn't a dream and you coverd in pudding actually is reality wich you briefly awoken from.

VCRClock · November 01, 2005, 06:34:38 PM

PirateClock · November 01, 2005, 06:35:21 PM

you guys know that 1 extremly long post still counts as only 1 post right?

VCRClock · November 01, 2005, 06:36:12 PM

Edit

Â¥

VCRClock · November 01, 2005, 06:36:43 PM

Quote from: PirateClockyou guys know that 1 extremly long post still counts as only 1 post right?

Â¥

MelloYelloClock · November 01, 2005, 06:37:07 PM

Quote from: PirateClockhow do you know all this isn't a dream and you coverd in pudding actually is reality wich you briefly awoken from.

This happens every time. It was CHOCOLATE PUDDING. Not splooge. I get this in school because I have tooth paste on my lips.
I am not gay, so just lay off.

PirateClock · November 01, 2005, 06:39:42 PM

i like being quoted

AlbinoClock · November 01, 2005, 06:40:11 PM

Quote from: PirateClock
Quote from: PirateClock
Quote from: PirateClock
Quote from: PirateClock
Quote from: PirateClock
Quote from: PirateClock
Quote from: PirateClocki like being quoted

.

MelloYelloClock · November 01, 2005, 06:41:55 PM

LISTEN, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower, as a signal light, --
One, if by land, and two, if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country-folk to be up and to arm."

Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison-bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own reflection in the tide.

Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street
Wanders and watches with eager ears,
Till in the silence around him he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry-chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the somber rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade, --
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town,
And the moonlight flowing over all.

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night-encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
A moment only he feels the spell
Of the place and the hour, the secret dread
Of the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay, --
A line of black, that bends and floats
On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse's side,
Now gazed on the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle-girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry-tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and somber and still.
And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns!

A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet:
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.

He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

It was twelve by the village clock,
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He heard the crowing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmer's dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the sun goes down.

It was one by the village clock,
When he galloped into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare,
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.

It was two by the village clock,
When be came to the bridge in Concord town.
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadows brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket-ball.

You know the rest. In the books you have read,
How the British regulars fired and fled, --
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind each fence and farm-yard wall,
Chasing the red-coats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.

So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm, --
A cry of defiance and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo forevermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beat of that steed,
And the midnight-message of Paul Revere.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1860

AlbinoClock · November 01, 2005, 06:44:32 PM

Quote from: TrickyClockLOL. INTERNETS ---------->

Fixed.

VCRClock · November 01, 2005, 06:45:24 PM

Quote from: AlbinoClockFixed.S

Fixed.

VCRClock · November 01, 2005, 06:47:44 PM

Quote from: wavy gravy
Quote from: DaveywkhaosFUCKING CUNT ASS SHIT BITCH FUCKER SLUT CUNT MAGNIFYING GLASS
A+

e

Losperman · November 01, 2005, 06:55:39 PM

At 12/31/01 10:20 PM, _altr_ wrote:
: At 12/31/01 08:56 PM, _altr_ wrote:
: : At 12/31/01 08:52 PM, Shrapnel wrote:
: : : Where is GumbyGod?
: : This be the first gif I made and proved chinny wrong about something.
: : *pats his own back*
: :
: :
: I think this be my 2nd gif.
: Thanks for that 5 Trae...
:
:

man I forgot all about my tank.lightbulb sig

I need to look through old posts, its not on my new HD

That Denariax Guy · November 01, 2005, 06:56:29 PM

This is pretty big. 0_0

That Denariax Guy · November 01, 2005, 06:58:20 PM

Quote from: TrickyClockNO IT ISN'T >=(

OMGYURRIGHT! IT'S SEMI... LARGE!

That Denariax Guy · November 01, 2005, 07:00:27 PM

I know. Loads are bigger. But... it's semi big.... not that big, not that small.

That Denariax Guy · November 01, 2005, 07:02:48 PM

Very

Big

Space...

Thingy...

YAY!

Losperman · November 01, 2005, 07:04:34 PM

At 1/7/02 01:22 AM, bigbadron wrote:
: i'm famous. i'm on a local chicago band's website, well kinda. i'm in a few concert photos. the band is kill hannah. they're cool.

here's another.

That Denariax Guy · November 01, 2005, 07:05:35 PM

Quote from: LospermanAt 1/7/02 01:22 AM, bigbadron wrote:
: i'm famous. i'm on a local chicago band's website, well kinda. i'm in a few concert photos. the band is kill hannah. they're cool.

here's another.

Sweet.

Losperman · November 01, 2005, 07:08:16 PM

At 1/7/02 04:22 AM, OrangeClock wrote:
: : :At 1/7/02 03:16 AM, Shrapnel wrote:
: : At 1/7/02 01:29 AM, OrangeClock wrote:
: : : I ain't got time for no "con-tent"! I've got work to do, sucka!
: :
: : I said I was going to cut down but here's one more.
:
: : :
:
: If you wanna cut down, waste all of your good ideas in 4 hours, like I did. Now I'm not going to post any picture, and go cry... boohoohoo...

i still have a few ideas, i just need to scan a few pics. i will have some new pics tomorrow.

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is he dead yet