9news.com (Denver): Domestic Violence Arrests - Part 1

[angryharry]

LOL!

Tea?

Did you say 'tea'?

Well. I think l'll join you.

I think that a green tea is due.

Or shall I have the Earl Grey?

No. Perhaps the camomile.

Hmm. No!

I know!

Marks & Spencer's Extra Strong Indian tea.

And when I get back, I'll tell you a secret.

...

I'm back.

There is little that is more rewarding than sipping a good cup of tea while sitting at a screen pontificating about one thing or another, reading something interesting, or chattiing away with people - such as your good self - while the music of geniuses (mostly men) sets my brainwaves into pleasurable patterns that, presumably, in some way or other, say something, and, presumably, also match those of millions of other men who have also listened often to it.

And, while on the subject, when you listen to music or watch films (and stuff like that) there is usually a message that someone (or some organism) wants you to absorb.

When you look at the world in this way, the size of the men's movement is clearly ***much*** bigger than one might normally imagine.

[The Gonzman]

Tea.  Hmmm.  Iced tea?  Long as it's the house wine of the south; ain't the Yankee born what knows how to make a proper batch of sweet tea.

Anyway.  Harry, You will be happy to know that someone has taken and run with the underwear idea, namely, Moi.  After cleaning out some drawers, I found a set of my own boxers what had seen better days; so, rather than throw them into the trash (Rubbish, to you, Harry) I shrugged my shoulders, said "Cheerio, Harry!" and attached them to the antennae of my car.  Like a flag.

Just a couple days later someone asked me why I had my drawers flapping in the breeze, and I replied that it was to send a message to the asswipes in family court.  They loooked at my BVDs, looked at me, and asked, "Okay, what kind of message would that be?"

I was almost stumped.  Harry, you never said what kind of message this would send.  The one thing missing from your underwear campaign has been the catchphrase to sum it all up, to bring it together, to make people recognize the significance of a pair of underpants, to make them do more than raise their eyebrows and back away slowly. Feeling panic rise, I looked, and saw inspiration - in the form of a young girl carrying a Bart Simpson doll to her car.

Smiling evilly, I replied, "An invitation to dinner.  The phrase what pays is `Eat My Shorts.'"

We need to adopt that as a motto: "Vescere bracis meis!"