Looked at one way, we have the fanatics who post every day: then, those who are on occasionally (the non-addicts) and those whom we rarely see, but who pop up rarely - and just occasionally start something good such as the Limerick thread....
Then we have the Gread Minds: those who start threads that grow and grow and offer endless entertainment.
And the devoted servants such as the guys who keep the photographic gallery in order.
We have the frivolous and witty; we have the knowledgable; we have the fast-burners; we have those that always present an opposing side, no matter what the subject; and we have the deep-thinkers who ponder and utter words of great wisdom now and then. And finally those with bad-taste, who also contribute.
And the Mods, like border collies, runing round to an unseen whistle and keeping us all in order.
AND WHAT ARE WE DOING WITH THIS VAST POOL OF LEARNING AND WILLINGNESS TO WRITE ? WHY, WE ARE FRITTERING IT AWAY ON SUBJECTS SUCH AS RATS-IN-COCKPITSAND ALLOWANCES FOR CAR FUEL ! BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELVES !
Gentlemen, I put it to you all that our time has come. Here on these pages, if we glean out the dross and rubbish, we find the answer to all of mankind's problems. Surely we cannot sit back, knowing what's wrong with the world, and how to fix it, and just sigh and exclaim in the manner of some well-known member of the British Royal Family: "it really is appalling" AND DO NOTHING.
Time for the Members of Jet Blast to rise up and commence those steps that will lead to us running the world. Might be best to start with a smallish area run by incompetents and overthrow the Government there before we tackle anything bigger. The Isle of Wight seems a good choice - from there we could invade both England and France, depending on the availability of ferries.
It happened to Lord Lundy then, As happens to so many men: Towards the age of twenty-six, They shoved him into politics; In which profession he commanded The Income that his rank demanded In turn as Secretary for India, the Colonies, and War. But very soon his friends began To doubt is he were quite the man: Thus if a member rose to say (As members do from day to day), "Arising out of that reply . . .!" Lord Lundy would begin to cry. A Hint at harmless little jobs Would shake him with convulsive sobs. While as for Revelations, these Would simply bring him to his knees, And leave him whimpering like a child. It drove his colleagues raving wild! They let him sink from Post to Post, From fifteen hundred at the most To eight, and barely six--and then To be Curator of Big Ben!. . . And finally there came a Threat To oust him from the Cabinet! The Duke -- his aged grand-sire -- bore The shame till he could bear no more. He rallied his declining powers, Summoned the youth to Brackley Towers, And bitterly addressed him thus-- "Sir! you have disappointed us! We had intended you to be The next Prime Minister but three: The stocks were sold; the Press was squared: The Middle Class was quite prepared. But as it is! . . . My language fails! Go out and govern New South Wales!" The Aged Patriot groaned and died: And gracious! how Lord Lundy cried! Hillaire Belloc
Do have a few tinfoil hats that we stole from Chemtrailers. Now if you need some hooded apparel, let me know and I'll put you in touch with some folks that are in prison, they don't need them anymore and you will be welcomed to them.
Do you have enough crosses? If not you need to build your own. We don't like that sort of thing over here. One reason those folks that had the hooded apparel are in prison.