In search of net friendships

is so looney, he actually thinks he’s a hit.

Nobody else around is despised as much as he
and in his perverse way, he actually thinks that’s good.

What a pitiful goon!

Il mittente di questo messaggio|The sender address of this
non corrisponde ad un utente   |message is not related to a real
reale ma all’indirizzo fittizio|person but to a fake address of an
di un sistema anonimizzatore   |anonymous system
Per maggiori informazioni      |For more info
                  https://www.mixmaster.it

On 9/27/2009 1:13 PM, Colonel Edmund J. Burke wrote:

> of my email addy?  Do you have the balls to do it???

http://profiles.yahoo.com/ejburke

consistently calls other posters "queer bait or
"penis lips" or "faggot" or miscellaneous pejorative
names.

Where there’s smoke there’s fire, so "your colonel" must
be perverted if he cannot restrain himself.

 Not only does he insult others shamelessly with name
calling, but most of his posts are disgusting and repeated
 complaints seem to fall on dear ears.

…you know it to be true.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vdc7v4vkbJI

to all of you.

kernel cornhole never fails to act
like an a$$hole.

"your kernel"! You aren’t fooling anyone, you
gay blade!

 Here’s an except from Part Two, Chapter One:

Michel Renault’s Philippine vacation was coming to an end.  Michel, who’s a
member of a small tour group, meets a mixed-race girl named Valerie, aged
23, a French national, like he is, with the most beautiful long, dark, wavy
hair.  Valerie is also on vacation and part of the group . . .  After a long
flight, the vacationers meet up at Paris International.  Valerie gives
Michel her cell number.  He calls the next day and arranges to pick Valerie
up at her apartment.  On the doorstep, Michel kisses Valerie, and she
responds by sticking her wet tongue deep into his mouth.   (It’s a French
novel, so you know what happens next.)

Now we join our French couple in front of the sofa, where they have already
fucked once.

"My life is important, too," she said.  "Actually, I feel like making love
again."

"I don’t know if I’ll be able to get it up right away."

"Then go down on me.  It’ll do me good."

She got up, took off her panties, and settled herself on the sofa.  I knelt
in front of her, parted her lips, and started to lick her clitoris gently.
"Harder . . . ," she murmured.  I slipped a finger into her ass, pressed my
face to her, and kissed the nub, massaging it with my lips.  "Oh, yes," she
said.  I increased the force of my kisses.  Suddenly, without my expecting
it, she came, her whole body shuddering violently. . .

She put her hand on my balls, brought her face toward me.  I was immediately
hard again.  She wound a lock of hair around the base of my penis, then
started to jerk me off with her fingertips.  "I don’t know," she said,
without stopping what she was doing.  "It’s nice that you’re unsure of
yourself.  I wanted you so badly when we were on the trip.  It was awful, I
thought, about it all the time."  She pressed harder against my balls,
enveloping them in the palm of her hand.  With her other hand she took some
raspberry jam and spread it on my penis; then she began conscientiously to
lick it off with wide sweeps of her tongue.  The pleasure was becoming more
and more intense.  I parted my legs in a desperate effort to hold myself
back.  As though it was a game, she started to jerk me off more quickly,
pressing my cock to her mouth.  When her tongue touched the tip of my glans,
I ejaculated violently into her half-open mouth.  She swallowed with a
little moan, then wrapped her lips around the head of my penis to get the
last drops. . .  She took her mouth away and lay down beside me, coiling
herself around me.

NOW, IS THAT SOMETHING OR WHAT?  THESE FRENCH GIRLS ARE SO HOT!!!

–
The truth is scandalous. But without it, nothing has any worth.  An honest
and naive vision of the world is already a masterpiece…  As you approach
the truth, your solitude will increase."

–Michel Houellebecq

Over the weekend past, Pleasance and Your Colonel started out on a morning
walk to the local library, where I picked up a copy of "Platform," a French
novel by Michel Houellebecq (pronounced Well Beck).  Along the way we saw
evidence of Halloween approaching, store-bought placards sprinkled like
punctuation across lawns and gardens throughout the neighborhood.  Halloween
comes earlier each year, it seems.  A little further on, a sign beside a
driveway read: Witches Crossing / All others will be toad.  "Clever, that,"
Pleasance said.  I agreed, contemplating the words, and then patted her
gorgeous ass.

"We should buy a pumpkin and carve it up," I told her as we sat at the
restaurant across the street from the library, having lunch.  "Make it into
a jack-o-lantern."

"Why not," Pleasance replied.  We walked home.  The day was now hot and
sweaty.  Once inside the coolness of Sunset Chateau, I slipped off her
summer dress, which fell around her ankles like perfumed laundry.  We made
love on the living room floor.

–
The truth is scandalous. But without it, nothing has any worth.  An honest
and naive vision of the world is already a masterpiece…  As you approach
the truth, your solitude will increase."

–Michel Houellebecq