HarryWeezer

Same problem.

Congratulations to those born in the 1940s, '50's and '60s. You survived being born to mothers who smoked and drank while they carried us. They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a tin, and didn't get tested for diabetes. Then after that trauma, your baby cots were covered with bright colored lead-based paints. You had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when you rode your bikes, you had no helmets, not to mention, the risks you took hitchhiking. You rode in cars with no seat belts or air bags and even in the back of a pickup truck. You drank water from the garden hosepipe and on a hike, from a stream, and didn't drop dead on the spot. You even shared a soft drink with friends, ate cake, white bread and real butter and guzzled gallons of Kool Aid with all that sugar, but you weren't overweight because you were always outside playing - because in the AM, your mother would order you out of the house. You would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on. No one was able to reach you all day - no cell phone, yet your survived. You would build go-carts out of scraps and then ride downhill with no brakes. You cobbled bicycles together out of spare parts and rode them everywhere with no knee pads, elbow pads or helmets. You did not have Playstations, Nintendo's, X-boxes and video games and usually got 2 or 3 channels on the black-and-white TV with no cable, no videotaped movies, no surround sound, no mobile phones, no text messaging, no personal computers and no Internet. But you had friends, because you went outside and found them. You fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits. You played with worms, made mud pies made from dirt and even ate them. You made up games with sticks, or balls, or even cigarette grands and did not poke out any eyes. You walked to school at age six and no one thought about you not coming home. You actually walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell without worrying about getting shot. You learned to to deal with disappointment because the usual response if you asked for something - particularly if it cost money - was NO. And you did what you were told to do out of fear of a licking from your father - or your teacher, or a neighbor, or a man on the street if you misbehaved and another licking when you got home for the insult you brought to your family. The notion of a parent bailing you out if you broke the law was unheard of. You had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and you learned how to deal with it all. And you were the better for it, and so was the country.

Looking forward to the day when - as with all you old farts in COD2 - I find myself sleeping through the early afternoon, getting up to take the 20 or so pills in the AM side of my pill box, having my coffee and toast with grape jelly while reading the paper, taking a good shit, and then, several hours later after the old lady leaves the house to get her hair done for the third time this week, sitting down to a game of COD2. And when that happens (after I get old like you guys) I will once again OWN you as I did many years ago - for which the older, older crowd in COD2 will vouch.

I do like that commercial though.

Which one's his good eye?

I fear I'm a long way from that my friend. And that's OK. Meantime, strikes me that we might all work on broadening the content here to perhaps attract more folks on a regular basis. I know, it's a gaming clan site but with nearly 500 members and 6,000 registered users of as diverse interests as you will find, all the more reason to look for interesting, perhaps out-of-the-box ways to get more folks involved. That could be more humor, or non-political conversation that does NOT provoke, or even cute cat pictures. I like the social media aspects of xi.com and will strive to add varied and what I hope folks find to be interesting stuff.

Feels good - very good. I've returned to my life something that has always been very important to me. It's like restoring a relationship with a loved one; you find you're at greater peace with yourself. As to the tags, well, I look forward to that day. I can only hope I am invited, and, found worthy.

Are you going to burn the White House again? Please?

Monday?

Most days, Animal, even I don't know who I am. - Thanks all for the welcome back. It's appreciated! (A most stately beard Bama)

We know you've, uh, been absent from reality for some time Hxtr. Just to help you catch up, we put a man on the moon, and elected an African-American president. Oh, and Xtreme Idiots changed its named to Fookin Morons, so please adjust your in-game name.

Just registered and thought I should introduce myself... I'm Harry. I keel you!! (End of introduction; please go about your idiotic business.)

Don't think so. But I might be able to dull that blade enough that it'll take at least two swipes.

Dean: I have a Blaster X-Fi Titanium, PCI Express, new in the box, if this will help you. I can put it in the mail Monday. Welcome to it. If it won't help you, and will help someone else, just holler.

They had to use the paddles to bring me back last time I had it done.

The age is about right Johnny and so are the details on farts and erections. So thanks for the warning - I'll stay away from nudist camps.

Have a great birthday Rock!!!

Try this: Open Sound by clicking the Start button and then Control Panel. Click the Recording tab, then right click Microphone and select Properties. Now, click the Listen tab. If there is a check beside "Listen to this device," remove it, then click OK, and OK again.

Great story, but flipping the bird has a much more ancient history. Here's the real, er, poop, from Wikipedia: The middle finger gesture was used in ancient Greece as a symbol of anal intercourse in a manner meant to degrade, intimidate and threaten the individual receiving the gesture. It represented the phallus, with the fingers next to the middle finger representing testicles. In ancient Greek comedy, the finger was a gesture of insult toward another person, referring to a male who submits to anal penetration.

My cousin Pierre LeQuois in Montreal has been waiting 18 years for his penis enlargement surgery.