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Topics - becksbolero
A 15-year-old boy born from anonymously-donated sperm used an online DNA-testing service and the Internet to track down his genetic father, a feat which suggests that promises of donor secrecy are worthless, the British weekly New Scientist reports on Saturday.
The boy, who was not named, started the hunt for his biological father by rubbing a swab along the inside of his cheek, putting it in a vial and sending it off to an online US DNA genealogy service, with a payment of 289 dollars (240 euros).
The service, designed to help people uncover their family tree, matched the boy's Y chromosome -- which passes from father to son, virtually unchanged -- against a databank of Y chromosomes from other men.
After nine months, he was contacted by two men whose Y chromosomes closely matched his own.
Neither men knew each other, but the similarity between their Y chromosomes suggested there was a 50-percent chance that all three had the same father, grandfather or great-grandfather.
In addition, both men had the same last name, although with different spellings.
Using this vital clue, the boy launched his Internet search.
Although his donor had been anonymous, the boy's mother had been told the man's date and place of birth and his college degree.
Using another online service, the boy purchased the names of everyone who had been born in the same place on the same day.
"Only one man had the surname he was looking for, and within 10 days he had made contact," New Scientist says.
The news will be unsettling to any man who donated sperm before the advent of the Internet and before the power of genetics was fully appreciated, the magazine says.
"With the explosion of information about genetic inheritance, any man who has donated sperm could potentially be found by his biological offspring.
"Absent and unknown fathers will also become easier to trace."
In some countries, sperm donors are required by law to allow their identity to be revealed to their children once their offspring reaches a certain age.
In others, though, including the United States, most sperm donors are still anonymous.
Personally, I think this is a good thing. The feminuts wont be able to get sperm anymore. That is of course only If the mainstream media publishes this news. (highly unlikely)
Element : Woman
Symbol : Wo (woe is me)
Atomic mass : Accepted as 53.6 kg may vary from 40 - 200 kg
Occurrence : Plentiful quantities in all urban areas
Physical properties :
1. Surface usually covered in painted film
2. Boils at nothing, freezes without any known reason
3. Melts if given special treatment
4. Bitter if incorrectly used
5. Found in various states, ranging from virgin metal to common ore.
6. Yields to pressure applied at correct pints
Chemical properties :
1. Has great affinity for gold, silver and a range of precious stones
2. Absorbs great quantities of expensive substances
3. May explode spontaneously without prior warning and for no known
4. Insoluble in liquids, but activity greatly increases by
saturation in alcohol
5. Most powerful money reducing agent known to man
Common uses :
1. Highly ornamental, especially in sports cars
2. Can be a great aid to relaxation
3. Very effective cleaning agent
1. Pure specimen turns rosy pink when discovered in natural state
2. Turns green when placed beside a better specimen
Potential hazards :
1. Highly dangerous except in experienced hands
2. Illegal to posses more than one, although several can be
maintained at different locations as long as specimens do not come
into direct contact with each other.
PROLONGED EXPOSURE TO THIS ELEMENT CAN CAUSE SEVERE PHYSICAL,
MENTAL, AND FINANCIAL DAMAGE
Children never cease to amaze me.
With their remarkable learning capabilities, rapid responses, and inimitable ability to fall down without getting hurt, youngsters leave me in a state of envy. Having a beautiful bright daughter, I am blessed to witness this miracle firsthand every day. That kid is scaling the learning curve faster than a Shirpa moving up Everest, but I have to keep myself in check. Constantly. Because little ones don't just learn by doing. Judging from the vocabulary my little girl has acquired, they learn by listening. And watching. At least the smarter ones tend to, two of which apparently weren't the offspring of Lakesha Wilson, who found a bag of "rock candy" while mommy and her boyfriend were sleeping off their latest crack binge.
Now being a retired crackhead, I understand more than most the nature of the Post-Smoke Crash. Trust you me, after three days of burning rocks, you'll sleep through anything. Screaming children. Car alarms. Hell, you could have lit my house on fire, and I wouldn't have known any different until the ceiling fell in on my comatose, lubricant-covered corpus. So when Dejah and Cameron celebrated their impromptu Halloween discovery, they did what any innovative black children would do in a similar situation. They ate the crack. What would you do? After all, those childproof lighters are a bitch even when you're grown. Couldn't imagine a 3 year old trying to make fire while his 13-month old little sista is teething on the crackpipe. And apparently, neither could little Cameron while his mother and her crackpusher boyfriend Deandre snored in the other room. And so, who-knows-how-many hours later, our happy couple awoke to find their spawn sprawled on the living room carpet, their tiny bellies full of Peruvian goodness.
Maybe I lack understanding, but even in the most depraved depths of blatent drug abuse, some primitive instinct carved distinct lines in the sand around me. I never exercised my self-destruction in the company of my child, preferring to savor my sweet smoke some 2000 miles away in Las Vegas in most occasions, and limiting my usage to those times when the daughter was not in my custody. Phoenix crack must somehow differ from Vegas, however, because this mother of 2 soon-to-be 3 didn't think to stash the illegal narcotics out of the toddler's reach.
Either that, or she overlooked the possibility of her children discovering the fun plastic baggie, because she was a dumb nigger.
Either way, the world is less one impoverished potential crackhead babymaker, because while little Cameron recovered in the care of the local hospital, tiny Dejah didn't make it back from her first excursion into enhanced consciousness. For shame. I would have loved to hear that child's account of her experience in baby googlespeak, somehow expressing her love for the cocaine with a series of drooling coo. And surely the judge and jury would have enjoyed that testimony as well, as they prepare to slow-cook Deandre over a 30-year fire. Something tells me that young man is going to be making all the wrong friends in the Arizona Penal System.
But perhaps Dejah's utility to our underbelly society isn't quite yet gone.
I mean, somewhere on yonder side of the Phoenix tracks is a tiny grave, with a decomposing infant chock full of crack. What a waste. Never mind the panicked state upon finding your smiling daughter in cardiac arrest from overdose. Think about the drugs. I know I am. Because if you were a crackhead and found a dead woman with crack in and/or on her, you'd make sure you had every off-white crumb of that dope before you called 911. Myself, I figured at 13 months, that dead baby would easily fit in one hand. Just put her ass on your mouth, hold the lighter to her mouth, and inhale. Deeply. The residual junk in her teeth has gotta be good for a couple hits. For that matter, why wait until the kid is with God to play that game? Just pour some milk over 1/4 ounce, and suddenly you have the first bong for which an occasional diaper change is in order.
Oh yes, that is way fucked up. But what about this idea?
Everyone is touched by the untimely demise of any child. Even a black one. Family and friends who are not already incarcerated will gather to pay homage to her passing. But is burial in a cheap wooden box really the best way to remember Dejah? Why not let her spirit ascend in a manner more appreciated, like cremation? The smoke rising from her remains would likely knock the back of your head off. The undertaker could just load a brass bowl with charcoal, light it up, and the Wake would really begin. Wouldn't take long before the grief and despondence was whisked away into the ventilation system, with our little angel leaving behind a room full of stoned relatives. It's not too late. That body might not be in the best shape after spending the summer underground, but I've found enough rocks hiding in strange places to know crack doesn't decompose.
And on that note, I would like to give The Arizona Republic a sincere thanks note only for bringing this story to my attention, but for presenting the case in such a tasteful manner:
the azcentral.com page
Fucking Grover. God as my witness, as much madness I've witnessed on this hard road I walk, I cannot possibly explain that one.
Smoking dead crack babies everywhere,
Just curious If there are others here, whom are giving serious thought to Dr. Makow's "Illuminati" theories? I am; and have been for awhile now.
The inventor of the Harley Davidson Motorcycle, Arthur Davidson, died
and went to heaven. At the gates, St. Peter told Arthur, "Since you've been such a good man and your motorcycles have changed the world, your rewards, you can hang out with anyone you want in Heaven."
Arthur thought about it for a minute and then said, "I want to hangout with God."
St. Peter took Arthur to the Throne Room, and introduced him to God.
God recognised Arthur and commented, "Okay, so you were the one who invented motorcycles, eh?" Arthur said, "Ya, that was me..."
God commented, "Well, what's the big deal of inventing something that's pretty unstable, makes noise and pollution, and can't run without a road?"
Arthur was apparently embarrassed, but finally spoke, "Excuse me but
aren't you the inventor of woman?"
God said, "Ah, yes." "Well," said Arthur, "professional too professional, you have some major design flaws in your invention:
1. There's too much inconsistency in the front-end protrusion,
2. It chatters constantly at high speeds, 3. Most of the rear ends are too soft and wobble too much,
4. The intake is placed way too close to the exhaust, and
5. The maintenance costs are outrageous!"
"Hmmm, you may have some good points there," replied God, "hold on. "God went to his Celestial supercomputer, typed in a few words and waited for the results. The computer printed out a slip of paper and God read it.
"Well, it may be true that my invention is flawed," God said to Arthur, "but according to these numbers, many more men are riding my invention
In the Nick Switala's Sept. 26 letter to the editor, it was declared that "Feminism is dead." I believe feminism is alive and men are dead. Most married men end up in divorce court. Most divorced men never see their kids again, yet most men never appeal their cases ... men are dead. My name is Carol Carpec, and I am the founder and president of menscustodyshelternetwork.com.
My colleagues and I are completely mystified at the prevailing fatalism that men have in this country. Why are men so dead? We are coming to the academic community for the answer.
We are filming a documentary at several universities to determine student's views on family court issues and to gain your perspective on the current legal landscape. We hope that the University of Minnesota will be well represented so as to fulfill its reputation as an outspoken school.
In the meetings and discussions we have conducted so far this week, we have found that young people are unaware of the civil war that is occurring in courts across this country.
We know that students are working long hours to get their degrees to enter the work force and make their fortunes; yet they seem to have no idea of how quickly all their fortunes will be lost in court. I receive calls and emails from doctors, businessmen and even lawyers that have amassed fortunes which were taken away with the stroke of a divorce judge's pen.
Our primary concern is not to protect a person's money but to protect his rights to access his children.
We believe the best parent is both parents. We find that the primary reason most divorced men lose access to their children is that they give up the fight ... they are dead. Why? Why do so many men opt for suicide rather than appeals court?
Why do men walk away broken in heart and broken financially, especially after laboring for years in college and in the work force?
Students seem proud to travel across the country to protest for the soldiers killed this year in Iraq, but where are the cries of protest for the 18,000 men who killed themselves this year over domestic disputes?
We are looking for some fresh, creative insight especially from such a large college. We find no solace in the current political dialogue.
Dr. Klein, a successful medical doctor, businessman and board certified psychiatrist, has formed an exploratory committee to determine if there is enough interest in family law reform to launch a presidential campaign on an equal custody platform. We believe equal custody is equal rights.
Dr. Mark Klein will speak briefly and then entertain questions and comments from the audience in hopes to gain insight into this divisive issue. Dr. Klein will give a $100 award to whoever gives the best answer to the simple question: "In today's legal climate is it safe to get married and have children?"
The audience will vote on who gave the best answer.
The filming will be at Coffman Union on the third floor, Room 307, today 6 p.m. Admission and pizza are free. If you wish to speak on camera, please notify us in advance at: (412)829-2278 or [email protected].
In our preliminary research of the current state of affairs in Minnesota, we find that children are hurt by Minnesota family law. Minnesota's antiquated child custody laws need to be changed.
Minnesota currently has a system of sole physical custody.
This means it is presumed that there has to be a winner and a loser in divorce and custody battles. Sadly, children and fathers are typically the losers.
According to a 2003 Department of Human Services report prepared by the University, sample data showed that mothers were awarded sole physical custody 94 percent of the time, with fathers receiving sole physical custody 6 percent of the time.
Unmarried fathers are presumed to have no rights to their children and must file a lawsuit in court if they want to try to get any rights to parent them.
We believe the removal of a child from a good loving parent is nothing less than child abuse.
What do you believe? Stop by today and tell us.
BTW. lkanneg; Debunk this. would ya?
Women Yatta Yattahttp://www.i-can.com/index.html
When a woman is stressed out, she talks - on and on, yatta, yatta, yatta. When a woman is not stressed out, she also talks on and on. Generally speaking, a woman is generally speaking. Many men are under the misconception that a woman always has to have the last word. This is not true because a woman never gets to the last word.
Many people ask what do women talk about? But it is more accurate to ask what women do not talk about, and that answer is very clear: "tungsten arc welding." Women never talk about tungsten arc welding, though they talk about everything else. If they do talk about tungsten arc welding, however, it is how they feel about tungsten arc welding, and who are cute tungsten arc welders, but never about tungsten arc welding itself.
What a lot of women's talk focuses on, however, is gossip, and many a woman has picked up more dirt with her telephone than with her vacuum cleaner. This is not to imply that a woman will repeat gossip - at least not the way she heard it. Nor is it to imply that a woman can't keep a secret, because she will often say, "I'm telling you this in confidence because it was told to me in confidence." What we are saying is that if a woman hears something that leaves her speechless - you can be sure she'll talk about it.
What Men Are Thinking While A Woman Is Talking
Contrary to women's beliefs, however, men's minds are engaged when a woman is talking. This is usually what he is thinking.
1. The last time I saw a mouth like hers,there was a fishhook in it.
2. God, can this woman talk up a storm. She must be doing 150 words a minute. With gusts up to 190.
3. This woman can chew a man's ear off faster than Mike Tyson in a rematch.
4. This bimbo's conversation is riveting. I wonder if her bra clasps in the front or the back?
5. If this bitch keeps up with this yatta yatta, I'm going to handcuff her, frisk her, and tell her she has a right to remain silent. And then I'm going to frisk her again.
How To Flatter The Pants Off A Woman
Although men are "flatulence-propelled", women are "flattery-operated". Women love to be flattered. But the man must know the correct way to flatter in order to achieve his goal, which is complete and total submission. Achieving this illustrious, low-life goal takes a bit of time, and a man must start off slow, building the flattery to a fine-tuned crescendo.
To do this a man must understand a woman's needs, which are simple and constant. Women need to:
A man must make reference to these needs under all circumstances, at every possible opportunity. For example, he might say:
(Her need to feel young)
"When the beam of the officer's flashlight hit your panic-stricken face after he stopped you for speeding, I couldn't help but think how you looked sixteen years old again - just like the first time you were arrested for shoplifting."
(Her need to feel skinny)
"Gee, I'm real sorry your grandfather died, but as you were leaning over the coffin to kiss him good-bye, I noticed how slim your ass looked."
(Her need to feel sexy)
"You know, when those baggy sweat pants cling to your buttocks as you lumber to the fridge for yet another Dove Bar, I just go wild! I don't know whether to grab you by your expandable-elastic waistband, or wrestle you to the ground in a pagan fertility ritual.
Notice how a man can use these seemingly inappropriate situations as an opportunity for flattery. Before you know it, by using these simple methods, you'll have a woman so flattered, she'll be flat on her back!
How To Stop A Woman From Talking
Obviously, the only way to stop a woman from talking is to put something in her mouth.
Heh Heh Heh!
I walked out of the back of Planned Parenthood and into the waiting room to await whatever the nurse had to tell me. I sat a seat away from a middle-aged milf. She sat there moving her leg in a nervous shake, and kept looking at me as though she wanted to say something but I gave her the "Look, bitch, I might have an STD, don't fuck with me" look. I guess curiosity finally got the best of her because she eventually looked over and asked,
"What are you doing here?"
I felt like telling her bitch ass, that it was none of her business, but the thought of some virus cruising in my body had humbled me this particular day so I responded with
"I think the weed makes me paranoid, but every time I have sex with a new girl I think I catch something, so I get myself checked often, very often. What about you?"
I should have kept my god-damned pie hole shut because this fucking woman says:
"My daughter got raped and she's in the back getting checked and talking to a counselor."
Good fucking God, what in the fuck are you suppose to say to some shit like that? The only fucking thing I could do was shake my head and say "I'm sorry to hear that."
I awkwardly sat there, a chair away from this woman who was still in a nervous shake with the occasional tear running down her cheek, praying to God that I didn't have an STD. What a dick, I know.
Call me naive but I don't understand rape. I understand the concept of it but what I don't understand is how it can be pulled off. Personally, I have a difficult enough time getting and keeping my dick hard when a bitch is a willing participant. I can see how someone could rape a broad when they're both naked, bitch spread wide open, cock gently splitting open her lips, about to run up in her, and then, the bitch says, NO. While I may not agree with the action of continuing after she says no, I can see how a motherfucker wouldn't stop and the action becoming rape. What I can't get through my head is the premeditated action. Now, I look at all bitches, young, old, ugly, pretty, and I imagine doing the nasty with them. However, most of the time, in my imagination, they're willing and able. I don't understand how some bastard could even fathom the thought of running up on a broad, more than likely smacking her around a few times, tearing off her clothes and sticking his dick in her.
I just don't see how a motherfucker can force themselves on someone to the point where not only is their cock all inside of them, but to the point where they actually climax. What in the fuck has had to happen to a motherfucker to get to the place in their life where they just start taking pussy? I'm not a pretty motherfucker by any means, but I'm always able to find a bitch who will fuck willingly, and even if I can't find a broad who will fuck, there is always one who will at least blow you or give you a hand job. If not, when all else fails, I'll jerkoff until I'm blue in the face and not once think about taking some pussy.
I've never witnessed an actual rape, but not to long ago I was at a party where roofies where floating around in abundance. I'm a fuckup, so you know I was flying. Towards the end of the night, I'm stumbling out of who knows whose house, when I see some little skinny broad about to be taken advantage of. I stop and look into the living room and some fucking asshole is kissing on this little broads neck and rubbing all up on her pussy and unbuttoning her pants. Now, I know for a fact this stupid bitch is high as a kite because I saw her drop two pills. I remember asking her if she would be able to handle two of them and that stupid broad said some shit like:
"Ah, who cares, I just want to party, what's the worst that could happen?"
I wanted to explain the worst that could happen to that stupid cunt, but who the fuck am I to be telling motherfuckers what to be doing. All the meanwhile thinking, maybe I could get my dick sucked later. Nevertheless, I'm not one to be cockblocking, but as though I was sent by The Man upstairs himself, I walked over and told that stupid sonofabitch who was about to take advantage of the stupid lil bitch to go ahead and let her make it. His reply was,
"Fuck that son, she wants it!"
I explained the best I could that, that shit wasn't going to happening. He got up like he wanted to do something but ended up listening to reason. I grabbed the stupid bitch by her arm and walked her out back. On the way, those two lil fuckers who sit on each shoulder start talking, and the devil is saying some shit like
"Good job cockblocking, now you fuck this bitch!"
The lil angel was talking about
"Even though you're fucked up you're doing the right thing."
I walked out the back door with the dumb broad fumbling and bumbling and pushed her towards her friends while telling them her stupid ass was about to get fucked. I saw the brotha who was going to do the fucking, but the bitch ass looked down when I looked his way. I got the fuck out of Dodge and more than likely someone ended up taking advantage of the stupid little bitch any damn way, but hey, at least the shit didn't happen on watch.
Then, what the fuck is up with prison rapes. This one I really don't understand. It's one thing to be taking pussy, but what in the fuck is going on with taking another mans' hairy ass? Prison must really fuck with one's head when one resorts to raping another man in the ass. I can't imagine being able to get my dick hard enough to stick in some poor bastards ass, much less being able to forcefully stick my dick in another mans ass, regardless of how long it's been since my dick been inside anything. Yet, you hear of motherfuckers getting raped in prison at record numbers, and there isn't a damn thing anyone can do because truthfully, who really gives a fuck if a bunch of cons are inside playing butt pirates? It's one thing to be a damned fairy and fuck other fags who smear red M&Ms on their lips for lipstick, but there is a big difference when you're spreading the ass cheeks of another man and raping him in the poophole. It just doesn't make sense to me and regardless of how anyone attempts to explain it to me, it's just not going to make sense.
Most recently, with all that shit that happened in New Orleans, you hear about motherfuckers going around raping bitches during and after the fucking hurricane. I was at that bitch before the hurricane hit, and I can honestly say that not once did the thought of taking pussy once cross my mind. I've been through several hurricanes now, and once again the thought of taking pussy never once crossed my mind during or after any of those storms hit. I would think that if I was all sweaty, smelly, tired, looking like shit, and all my shit was under water, the last thing I would want to do was take some similarly sweaty smelly tired pussy.
I've come to the realization that some motherfuckers deserve to pay with their lives. Fuck getting sent to prison, any motherfucker convicted of rape, deserves one thing: DEATH. I don't give a fuck what any of you death penalty opponents think, suck a dick!
On the bright side, if all tests came back negative, any you bitches wanna fuck?
Some peoples kids. Eh?
A magazine recently ran a "Dilbert quotes" contest. They were looking for
people to submit quotes from their real life Dilbert-type managers. Here are
1. As of tomorrow, employees will only be able to access the building using
individual security cards. Pictures will be taken next Wednesday and
employees will receive their cards in two weeks; (This was the winning quote
from Fred Dales at Microsoft Corp in Redmond, WA.)
2. What I need is a list of specific unknown problems we will encounter.
(Lykes Lines Shipping)
3. E-mail is not to be used to pass on information or data. It should be used
only for company business. (Accounting manager, ElectricBoat Company)
4. This project is so important, we can't let things that are more important
interfere with it. (Advertising/Marketing manager, United Parcel Service)
5. Doing it right is no excuse for not meeting the schedule. No one will
believe you solved this problem in one day! We've been working on it for
months. Now, go act busy for a few weeks and I'll let you know when it's time
to tell them. (R&D supervisor, Minnesota Mining and Manufacturing/3M Corp.)
6. My Boss spent the entire weekend retyping a 25-page proposal that only
needed corrections. She claims the disk I gave her was damaged and she
couldn't edit it. The disk I gave her was write-protected. (CIO of Dell
7. Quote from the Boss: "Teamwork is a lot of people doing what I say."
(Marketing executive, Citrix Corporation)
8. My sister passed away and her funeral was scheduled for Monday. When I
told my Boss, he said she died so that I would have to miss work on the
busiest day of the year. He then asked if we could change her burial to
Friday. He said, "That would be better for me." (Shipping executive, FTD
9. "We know that communication is a problem, but the company is not going to
discuss it with the employees." (Switching supervisor, AT&T Long Lines
10. We recently received a memo from senior management saying: "This is to
inform you that a memo will be issued today regarding the subject mentioned
above." (Microsoft, Legal Affairs Division)
11. One day my Boss asked me to submit a status report to him concerning a
project I was working on. I asked him if tomorrow would be soon enough. He
said "If I wanted it tomorrow, I would have waited until tomorrow to ask for
it!" (New business manager Hallmark Greeting Cards.)
12. As director of communications, I was asked to prepare a memo reviewing
our company's training programs and materials. In the body of the memo one of
the sentences I mentioned the "pedagogical approach" used by one of the
training manuals. The day after I routed the memo to the executive committee,
I was called into the HR director's office, and told that the executive vice
president wanted me out of the building by lunch. When I asked why, I was
told that she wouldn't stand for perverts" (pedophilia?) working in her
company. Finally, he showed me her copy of the memo, with her demand that I
be fired - and the word "pedagogical" circled in red. The HR manager was
fairly reasonable, and once he looked the word up in his dictionary and made
a copy of the definition to send back to her, he told me not to worry. He
would take care of it. Two days later, a memo to the entire staff came out
directing us that no words which could not be found in the local Sunday
newspaper could be used in company memos. A month later, I resigned. In
accordance with company policy, I created my resignation memo by pasting
words together from the Sunday paper. (Taco Bell Corporation)
Monty Python's "Life of Brian".
I know this is coming from left field. (no offence to the south paws)
But you gotta watch this movie, again; if you haven't already seen it.
It's portrails of belief systems (including feminism) is uncanny.
Saw an advertisment on tv espousing this little tidbit.
MFG. Guess who paid for it. Vancouver rape prevention center.
I'm too P,O'ed to go into this further. just thought I'd get it out there.
The RetroSexual Code :
A Retrosexual does not let neighbors screw up rooms in his house on
A Retrosexual, no matter what the women insists, PAYS FOR THE DATE.
A Retrosexual opens doors for a lady. Even for the ones that fit that term
only because they are female.
A Retrosexual DEALS WITH IT. Be it a flat tire, a break-in into your home,
or a natural disaster, you DEAL WITH IT.
A Retrosexual not only eats red meat, he often kills it himself.
A Retrosexual doesn't worry about living to be 90. It's not how long you
live, but how well. If you're 90 years old and still smoking cigars and
drinking, I salute you.
A Retrosexual does not use more hair or skin products than a woman. Women
have several supermarket aisles of stuff. Retrosexuals need an end cap
(possibly 2 end caps if you include shaving goods).
A Retrosexual does not dress in clothes from Hot Topic when he's 30 years old.
A Retrosexual should know how to properly kill stuff (or people) if need
be. This falls under the "Deal with It" portion of The Code.
A Retrosexual watches no TV show with "Queer" in the title.
A Retrosexual should not give up excessive amounts of manliness for women.
Some is inevitable, but major re-invention of yourself will only lead to you
becoming a froo-froo little puss, and in the long run, she ain't worth it.
A Retrosexual is allowed to seek professional help for major mental stress
such as drug/alcohol addiction, death of your entire family in a freak
tree chipper accident, favorite sports team being moved to a different
city, or favorite bird dog expiring, etc. You are NOT allowed to see a shrink
because Daddy didn't pay you enough attention to you. Daddy was busy
DEALING WITH IT. When you screwed up, he DEALT with you.
A Retrosexual will have at least one outfit in his wardrobe designed to
conceal himself from prey.
A Retrosexual knows how to tie a Windsor knot when wearing a
tie..................and ONLY a Windsor knot.
A Retrosexual should have at least one good wound he can brag about getting.
A Retrosexual knows how to use a basic set of tools. If you can't hammer a
nail, or drill a straight hole, practice in secret until you can, or be
rightfully ridiculed for the wuss you be.
A Retrosexual knows that owning a gun is not a sign that you are riddled
with fear. Guns are TOOLS and are often essential to DEAL WITH IT. Plus
it's just plain fun to shoot.
Crying... There are very few reasons that a Retrosexual may cry, and none
of them have to do with TV commercials, movies, or soap operas. Sports teams
are sometimes a reason to cry, but the preferred method of release is
swearing or throwing the remote control. Some reasons a Retrosexual can cry
include (but are not limited to) death of a loved one, death of a pet (fish
do NOT count as pets in this case), loss of a major body part.
A Retrosexual man's favorite movie isn't "Maid in Manhattan" (unless that
refers to some foxy French maid sitting in a huge tub of brandy or
whiskey), or "Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood." Acceptable ones may
include any of the Dirty Harry or Nameless Drifter movies (Clint in his
better days), Rambo I or II, the Dirty Dozen, The godfather trilogy,
Scarface, The Road Warrior, The Die Hard series, Caddyshack, Rocky I, II,
or III, Full Metal Jacket, any James Bond Movie, Raging Bull, Bullitt, any
Bruce Lee movie, Apocalypse Now, Goodfellas, Reservior Dogs, Fight Club,
Replacement Killers, etc .
When a Retrosexual is on a crowded bus and or a commuter train, and a
pregnant woman, hell, any woman gets on, that retrosexual stands up and
offers his seat to that woman, then looks around at the other so-called men
still in their seats with a disgusted "you punks" look on his face.
A Retrosexual knows how to say the Pledge properly, and with the correct
emphasis and pronunciation. He also knows the words to the Star Spangled
A Retrosexual will have hobbies and habits his wife and mother do not
understand, but that are essential to his manliness, in that they offset
the acceptable manliness decline he suffers when married/engaged in a
serious healthy relationship - i.e., hunting, boxing, shot putting,
shooting, cigars, car maintenance.
A Retrosexual knows how to sharpen his own knives and kitchen utensils.
A Retrosexual man can drive in snow (hell, a blizzard) without sliding all
over or driving under 20 mph, without anxiety, and without high-centering
his ride on a plow berm.
A Retrosexual man can chop down a tree and make it land where he wants.
Wherever it lands is where he damn well wanted it to land.
A Retrosexual will give up his seat on a bus to not only any women but any
elderly person or person in military dress (except officers above 2nd Lt)
NOTE: The person in military dress may turn down the offer but the
Retrosexual man will ALWAYS make the offer to them and thank them for
serving their country.
A Retrosexual man doesn't need a contract -- a handshake is good enough. He
will always stand by his word even if circumstances change or the other
person deceived him.
A Retrosexual man doesn't immediately look to sue someone when he does
something stupid and hurts himself. We understand that sometimes in the
process of doing things we get hurt and we just DEAL WITH IT.
has revealed she was forced to participate in sexual threesomes against her wishes by former husband Roger Vadim.
The Hollywood actress claims the late French director, who she married in 1967 before divorcing him in 1973, bullied her into having sex with other women throughout their marriage.
Fonda, who pioneered the home exercise video revolution, says on one occasion French director Vadim even ordered a red-haired prostitute from an escort agency to fulfil his sexual fantasies.
The 67-year-old star makes the shocking claims in her new autobiography, 'My Life So Far', which will be published in the US next month.
In the book, Fonda says her husband constantly badgered her into finding other women they could both have sex with, asking her to assume the personality of the prostitute character she played in 1971 movie 'Klute' - a performance which earned her an Oscar.
She writes: "For me to be with Roger Vadim, that meant bringing other women into our bed. It seems shocking that I did that, but I managed to convince myself that it was fine, that it was what I wanted despite the fact it was killing my heart."
Fonda - who had one daughter, Vanessa, with her husband, who passed away in 2000 - also blames the "cruel and misogynistic"
Vadim for the eating disorders she battled throughout her life.
She adds: "I ceased eating except for crusts from his bread and rinds from his camembert."Because we all know (or at least are learning) that wimmin have no control over themselves, nor the ability to make decisions.
This thread (on the other board) is similar to the one posted here about 10 days ago. The topic on that other board was about a woman kicking some guy in the nuts for "getting in her face". The thread I am refering to Here
is about a woman asking people
"Come on ladies, I know you's have some stories. As they say... there is no fury like a woman scorned."
It's interesting, But I am enjoying it as well.
In the company of females, intercourse should be referred to as:
C. Taking the pigskin bus to tuna town.
You should make love to a woman for the first time only after you've both shared:
A. Your views about what you expect from a sexual relationship
B. Your blood test results
C. Five tequila slammers
You time your orgasm so that:
A. Your partner climaxes first.
B. You both climax simultaneously.
C. You don't miss Sports Center
Passionate, spontaneous sex on the kitchen floor is:
A. Healthy, creative love-play.
B. Not the sort of thing to which your wife/girlfriend would agree.
C. Not the sort of thing about which your wife/girlfriend need ever to find out.
Spending the whole night cuddling a woman with whom you've just had sex is:
A. The best part of the experience.
B. The second best part of the experience.
C. $100 extra
Your girlfriend says she's gained five pounds in the last month. You tell her that it is:
A. No concern to you.
B. Not a problem, she can join your gym.
C. A conservative estimate.
You think today's sensitive, caring man is:
A. A myth.
B. An oxymoron.
C. A Moron.
Foreplay is to sex as:
A. Appetizer is to entree.
B. Primer is to paint.
C. A long line is to an amusement park ride.
Which of the following are you most likely to find yourself saying at the end of a relationship?
A. "I hope we can still be friends."
B. "I'm not in right now, please leave a message at the beep."
C. "Welcome to Dumpsville, population: YOU."
A woman who is uncomfortable watching you masturbate:
A. Probably needs a little more time before she can cope with the intimacy.
B. Is uptight and a waste of time.
C. Should never have sat next to you on the bus in the first place.
EVALUATING RESULTS: If you answered "A" more than 7 times, check your pants to make sure you ARE a man!!
If you answered "B" more than 7 times, check into therapy, you're a little confused.
If you answered "C" more than 7 times, "YOU DA MAN!"
What if it's even Partially Right?
LETTER FROM A FARM KID NOW AT THE MARINE CORPS RECRUIT DEPOT
Dear Ma and Pa:
I am well. Hope you are. Tell Brother Walt and Brother Elmer the Marine Corps beats working for old man Minch by a mile. Tell them to join up quick before maybe all of the places are filled. I was restless at first because you got to stay in bed till nearly 6 a.m., but am getting so I like to sleep late.
Tell Walt and Elmer all you do before breakfast is smooth your cot and shine some things. No hogs to slop, feed to pitch, mash to mix, wood to split, fire to lay. Practically nothing. Men got to shave but it is not so bad, there's warm water.
Breakfast is strong on trimmings like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, etc., but kind of weak on chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried eggplant, pie and other regular food. But tell Walt and Elmer you can always sit by the two city boys that live on coffee. Their food plus yours holds you till noon when you get fed again. It's no wonder these city boys can't walk much.
We go on "route" marches, which the Platoon Sergeant says are long walks to harden us. If he thinks so, it is not my place to tell him different. A "route march" is about as far as to our mailbox at home. Then the city guys get sore feet and we all ride back in trucks. The country is nice, but awful flat.
The Sergeant is like a schoolteacher. He nags some. The Captain is like the school board. Majors and Colonels just ride around and frown. They don't bother you none. This next will kill Walt and Elmer with laughing. I keep getting medals for shooting. I don't know why. The bulls-eye is near as big as a chipmunk head and don't move. And it ain't shooting at you, like the Higgett boys at home. All you got to do is lie there all comfortable and hit it. You don't even load your own cartridges. They come in boxes.
Then we have what they call hand-to-hand combat training. You get to wrestle with them city boys. I have to be real careful though, they break real easy. It ain't like fighting with that ole bull at home. I'm about the best they got in this except for that Tug Jordan from over in SilverLake. He joined up the same time as me.
But I'm only 5'6" and 130 pounds and he's 6'8" and weighs near 300 pounds dry. Be sure to tell Walt and Elmer to hurry and join before other fellers get onto this setup and come stampeding in.
Your loving daughter,
Hey sweety, Ya Gotta Sister?
John Kerry meets with the Queen of England. He asks her, "Your Majesty,
how do you run such an efficient government? Are there any tips you can give
"Well," says the Queen, "the most important thing is to surround yourself with intelligent people." Kerry frowns. "But how do I know the people around me are really intelligent?"
The Queen takes a sip of tea. "Oh, that's easy. You just ask them to
answer an intelligent riddle." The Queen pushes a button on her intercom. "Please send Tony Blair in here, would you?"
Tony Blair walks into the room. "Yes, my Queen?" The Queen smiles, "Answer me this, please, Tony. Your mother and father have a child. It is not your
brother and it is not your sister. Who is it?" Without pausing for a moment, Tony Blair answers, "That would be me."
"Yes! Very good," says the Queen.
Kerry goes back home to ask John Edwards, his vice presidential choice
the same question. "John. Answer this for me. Your mother and your father have a child.
It's not your brother and it's not your sister. Who is it?"
"I'm not sure," says John Edwards. "Let me get back to you on that one." Edwards goes to his advisors and asks every one, but none can give him an answer. Finally, he ends up in the men's room and recognizes Colin Powell's shoes in the next stall. Edwards shouts, "Colin! Can you answer this for me? Your mother and father have a child and it's not your brother or your sister.
Who is it?" Colin Powell yells back, "That's easy. It's me!" Edwards smiles, and says, "Thanks!" Then, Edwards goes back to speak with Kerry. "Say, I did some research and I have the answer to that riddle. It's Colin Powell."
Kerry gets up, stomps over to John Edwards, and angrily yells into his face, "No, you idiot! It's Tony Blair!"
Firstly, Hello all.http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=pubmed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=14870871
Jaswant Rai Speciality Hospital, Meerut, India.
A 27-year-old lady presented with persistent cough, sputum and fever for the preceding six months. Inspite of trials with antibiotics and anti-tuberculosis treatment for the preceeding four months, her symptoms did not improve. A subsequent chest radiograph showed non-homogeneous collapse-consolidation of right upper lobe. Videobronchoscopy revealed an inverted bag like structure in right upper lobe bronchus and rigid bronchoscopic removal with biopsy forceps confirmed the presence of a condom. Detailed retrospective history also confirmed accidental inhalation of the condom during fellatio.
* Case Reports
PMID: 14870871 [PubMed - indexed for MEDLINE]