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The Hedgehog Can Never Be Buggered At All, v.2
tekst: Heather Wood

1.
You can bugger the bear, if you do it with care,
in the winter, when he is asleep in his lair,
Though I would not advise it in spring or in fall--
but the hedgehog can never be buggered at all.

2.
If you're feeling quite coarse, you can bugger the horse,
or the palfrey, the jennet, the stallion (with force),
You can bugger the donkey, the mare, or the mule,
Though to bugger the pony is needlessly cruel.

3.
You can bugger the ox (if you stand on a box)
And vulpologists say you can bugger the fox,
You can bugger the shrew, though it's awfully small--
but the hedgehog cvan never be buggered at all.

4.
Herptologists gasp you can bugger the asp,
Entymologists claim you can bugger the wasp.
If an insects your thing, man, then just have a ball--
But the hedgehog can never be buggered at all.

5.
And the elephant too, that you meet in the zoo,
Can be buggered if you are sure just what to do,
You will need a large mattress upon which to fall--
but the hedgehog cvan never be buggered at all.

6.
You can bugger the bees if your down on your knees,
You can bugger the termites with terminal ease
you can bugger the beetle, the ladybug (bird!) too,
there's no end to the buggering that you can do.

7.
You can bugger the cat if it isn't to fat
You can bugger the rabbit you draw from your hat
You can bugger the shark that you've chased in your yawl--
but the hedgehog can never be buggered at all.

8.
You can bugger the ermine, and all other vermine,
like rats, mice, and roaches, if your not discernin'.
You can bugger the dog, it will come when you call--
but the hedgehog can never be buggered at all.

9.
Although Mr. Tiggy is not very big, he
Avoids with great ease those who fancy his arse.
He just curls in a ball, shows his prickles and all--
And the would-be seducer leaves himin the grass

10.
If you're that kind of fool, and you have a long tool,
Do it with a giraffe, if you stand on a stool,
Catch a yeti, who lives in the snows of Nepal--
but the hedgehog can never be buggered at all.

11.
For the hedgehog escapes the posterior rapes
Performed upon others of different shapes
Those who run, swim, or slither, they get it withal--
But the hedgehog can never be buggered at all.

12.
It is said, if you try, you can bugger the fly,
Or the swallow as it skims so skilfully by,
Use a noose or a net, or lime (if you've the gall)--
but the hedgehog can never be buggered at all

13.
You can bugger the cow (I will not tell you how),
Or the boar, or the piglet, the shoat or the sow,
You can bugger the ass as it stands in the stall--
But the hedgehog can never be buggered at all.

14.
You can order or shoo 'im, or run a knife through 'im
The one thing you cannot do is stick it to 'im.
If you try to seduce 'im, you'll end in a fix,
His prickles defend him against rampant pricks.

15.
You can bugger the ram, you can bugger the lamb,
You can bugger the ewe, though the wether's a sham,
You can bugger the tiger (it may caterwaul)
But the hedgehog can never be buggered at all.

16.
You can bugger the seal, you can bugger the eel,
You can bugger the crab, though they say it can't feel,
You can bugger the bat as the night casts its pall,
But the hedgehog can never be buggered at all.

17.
You can bugger the snake (hold it down with a rake),
Though to bugger the quetzal may be a mistake.
You can bugger the billy, the nanny the kid,
But to bugger the hedeghog just cannot be did.

18.
You can bugger the slug, though it messes the rug,
You can bugger the different species of bug,
Or do it with a snail, if you slow to a crawl,
But the hedgehog can never be buggered at all.

19.
At the end of the day, when you've had your rough way
With all of those creatures, you'll just have to say
That damned Erinaceous has been my downfall--"
For the hedgehog can never be buggered at all!
 
select dfat410.repr,clie,to_char(emis,'mm') as mes, sum(decode(substr(dfat410.redu,1,4),'8312',qtde/1.8868 ,qtde)) as qtde
from fat_emp1.dfat410, sce_emp1.dsce200, sce_emp1.dsce100
where dfat410.clie = dsce200.forn AND
dfat410.redu = dsce100.redu AND
dfat410.is_deleted = 'N' AND
(emis between '01-jan-2004' and '28-apr-2004') AND
(clie between '00000' and '99999') AND
(dfat410.repr between '000' and '999') AND
(uf between 'AC' and 'RS') AND
(instr('12345',dsce100.divi)>0) AND
(uf <> 'EX')
group by dfat410.repr,clie,to_char(emis,'mm')
order by dfat410.repr,clie,to_char(emis,'mm')
 
salamander9.gif




pikachusgoodbye.gif
 
Design 50+ items including tees, stickers and posters. Publish your book. Release your CD or software. Get your own online store and make money - all for free.
 
Last week I went to a going-away party for Dr. Lo, a scientist from Taiwan who's been visiting our lab for the past year. All of us adore Dr. Lo. He always smiles when he sees you, always makes a cheerful remark, always asks your opinion about some wild new idea he has. He cooks the best Chinese food I've ever tasted and knows all the best places to get the perfect ingredients. Plus, he loves to sing a cappella and actually manages to do it quite well. There's just something endearing about a short, pudgy Asian dude who's a brilliant scientist but is nonetheless willing to hop up on stage and do Billy Joel as good or better than Billy does it himself. So I was sad to see him go, but happy to shake his hand and tell him how much I'd enjoyed working with him.

To my annoyance, I ended up having to walk to the party with Carrie. I've worked with her for almost six years now, and every day she shows up to work in her uniform: a slinky dress, fashionable two-inch heels, and badly dyed blonde hair nailed into place with hairspray. As we walk down the hall to the meeting room, she starts up her usual act. She grabs my arm and presses her body against me. She tells me I'm looking sexy and stylish in my black shirt and jeans. She teases me about my open relationship with my close friend Meredith and jokingly asks me if we're looking for a third. She does all this even though she's been married for at least three years now.

I know why, of course. Once upon a time, Carrie turned heads everywhere she went. Guys would reschedule their entire day just to chat her up, and they'd rake their eyes over her body again and again. When I first met her, I did too: she'd stride into the room and I'd feel my brain shut off as that dumb horny smile oozed its way onto my face. But that was long ago, and so on some level she wants to know if I still think she's beautiful even though her ass has nearly doubled in size since I first met her.

I never quite know what to do about this. On the one hand, I find myself unwilling to play the role of pig just to prop up some poor woman's fragile ego. On the other hand, I pity her. So when she bends way over to "fix her shoe," revealing perfectly browned breasts squeezed into a satiny push-up bra, I go ahead and look, long enough for her to notice. It seems to be expected of me.

Over the years I've seen just about every part of Carrie that there is to see--everything, I think, except for the undersides of her breasts, a few centimeters of her bottom, and her genitals themselves. As for the latter, I can easily imagine what it's like down there: neatly trimmed hair, carefully exfoliated skin, maybe even a stale odor of the body wash that she uses to hide her natural scent. Whatever.

Anyway, as we turn the corner, Carrie's hanging on to me like some sort of depraved maniac. But when we enter the room, she sets me free and prances over to Dr. Lo, throwing her arms around him and drawing him into a powerful hug. Now I said Dr. Lo was friendly, but I also said he wasn't stupid, and he probably knows what's going on here. Besides, he loves his wife, and I doubt he feels any attraction to someone like Carrie. And in fact he's not paying much attention to her: he politely detaches himself with a few courteous comments, then plops himself on the floor, takes his wife's hand, and bops a balloon towards his three-year-old son. Carrie moves to sit down next to him, and I get ready to run interference--he shouldn't have to put up with her, not on his last day here. Then Hazel my boss does it for me, and instead I make my way over to the buffet.

As I finish loading my plate, I catch a glimpse of Sarah, who's sitting alone on a sofa in the corner of the room. Sarah's a lab tech who deals with lots of messy stuff, so she always wears her scrubs: loose-fitting blue pants and a blue V-neck top with a plain white T-shirt underneath. She keeps her blonde hair pulled back in a tight ponytail so it doesn't fall in her face. She doesn't bother with makeup or nail polish or manicures--Carrie once asked her why and she answered that there was no point, really, when you're sitting in a lab dealing with chemicals all day.

The scrubs look a bit like pajamas, so Sarah usually looks comfortable and cuddly, like a sleepy girl just about to shut her door, put out the lights, and tuck herself into bed. As she turns to gaze out the windows, her top pulls tight against her body, revealing the soft gentle curve of her breast. I force myself to look away and hastily sit down, moving my plate on my lap to hide my reaction.

Her pager goes off and she slips it out of its case, then heads out of the room to make a call. As she moves to replace the pager, her T-shirt slips out of her bottoms, revealing the pale skin of her waist right where it flares out to form her hips.

I'd very much like to follow her. I'd catch up to her and take her by the hand, and we'd gaze at each other until I was sure she understood. Then we'd head down the hall to the big dark closet where they store the old couches and chairs. We'd push the door closed and lock it behind us, and I'd shove a chair against it for good measure. I'd raise my hand to her head, slowly, and pull out her hair tie, setting her hair free to fall around her face. Then we'd move closer, and I'd bow my head to kiss her on the lips. As our kisses grew more passionate, I'd let my hands explore her body, searching for the curves I know she has but rarely get to see. After a time she'd allow me the honor of undressing her, and I'd gaze at the soft creamy lines of her body, a treasure she grants to a precious few. Then she'd undress me and press her bare skin against mine, hard, surprising me with her passion the way the shy ones sometimes do. I'd move my hand lower and lower, ever so slowly, slipping my fingers into her tangle of soft blonde curls. She'd bite her lip, caught between a need to hold back and a need to let go. When I finally brought her over the edge, she wouldn't scream, she wouldn't cry out my name, she wouldn't screw up her face into a convoluted facial expression that she practiced in front of a mirror. She'd just tremble in my arms as her breath shuddered out of her, and maybe she'd shed a few tears. Maybe we'd even spend the night there, with her body in my arms and her scent on my fingertips, and we'd quietly laugh in the morning.

But none of that can happen. Instead she comes back into the room, and Dr. Lo springs up to greet her, introducing his wife and son. He tries some new joke on her and she dissolves into laughter, then slips away to refill her drink.

She sits down next to me and I start teasing her a little, telling her that Dr. Lo has a crush on her. She rolls her eyes and chucks me on the shoulder; I yelp in mock pain and chuck her back. We share a smile.

That's all we have and all we'll ever have. She's going to go on and make a career filled with useful work and important accomplishments. She'll marry a nice guy and maybe have a few great kids. She'll keep a certain beauty for the rest of her life, even when she's old and wrinkled and gray--the sort of beauty that's bestowed by living a life of quiet satisfaction. Meanwhile, I'll turn from a young pervert into an old pervert.

But I can still be near her, at least for a little while. And so when Dr. Lo calls us over to to sing one last long, I trail along behind her and stand next to her. As his song comes to an end, and he starts shaking hands for his final goodbyes, Sarah cries a bit, so I quietly hand her a tissue. She turns away to wipe her eyes, and I see her pause, turn farther for a moment, then face forward again with her lips pressed into a thin pale line. I turn around myself, wondering what she saw.

In the far corner, amidst the cold pizza and warm punch and limp balloons, Carrie stands with her back to us all, staring at her faint gray reflection in the grimy window pane. As I watch, she draws a compact from her little leather purse, loads the applicator with dark eyeshadow. She replaces it in the purse and pulls out lipstick, smearing it onto her lips. When she bares her teeth to check for stains, I quickly turn away.

Dr. Lo is gone. I try to catch up with Sarah, but stop when I hear her say that she's leaving early, heading to the airport to pick up a friend. So I gather my plate and my cup and my napkin, toss them in the trash bin, and leave the room, heading back to the lab alone.
 
All of your ideas have already occurred to others. Please stop bothering to think. You are selfishly wasting energy and oxygen.
 
Loosing one's mind in IRC....

* StopLaughing fires at Cam to even things out
* Cam deflects the bullet with her super powers
* StopLaughing has reached temporary insanity stage, can kill without fear of death penalty now
<StopLaughing> mwahahaha
<Oz> :O
* Oz hides behind cam
* StopLaughing fires at mirlyn for no reason
<Cam> hey!
<Cam> go hide somewhere else!
<Oz> you got the shield!
* StopLaughing reloads
<Cam> oh shit yeah
<Cam> shields up!
<Cam> red alert!
<StopLaughing> armor piercing bullets, very prevalent around here
<Oz> now stand there.....look pretty......and bounce some buckshot back at him :D
* Oz does red alert sound effects
* StopLaughing fires at Cam
<Cam> dammit oz! I'm a super hero, not a supermodel with a bulletproof shield!
<StopLaughing> if you were a supermodel, you think I'd shoot you?
<Cam> hey!
<Oz> well, just do shieldy things then :D
* StopLaughing fires at Oz
* Cam is gonna get nasty on sl's ass....
<Cam> y'all better duck...
<StopLaughing> shield? I laugh at your shield...
* Oz changes the pitch of the red alert signal
<Cam> cause i'm bringing i the big guns
* StopLaughing fires at duck
<Oz> quaa......!!
<Oz> dead duck :(
<StopLaughing> man, no wonder I lost at lasertag...
* StopLaughing closes eyes and fires
* Cam arms ACME (TM) uber big scary laser gun with flashy light
<Oz> he'll shoot himself in the foot or summit
<Oz> oooh!
* Cam cocks.....
<StopLaughing> hey cam, didja buy that from Wile E. Coyote?
<Cam> (be good oz)
* Oz changes from red alert to dramatic kettle drum music
<Oz> *nods*
* Cam aims
<StopLaughing> beep beep
* Cam fires
* StopLaughing zooms away
<Cam> shit
<Cam> no fair
<Oz> bugger.....
<Cam> you pulled a road runner
* StopLaughing watches laser bounce off mirror back at Cam...
<Oz> eek
<Cam> the only thing that could deafeat my ACME (TM) laser....
<StopLaughing> was itself
<Oz> uh oh
* Oz changes back to red alert music
<Cam> why, if i had kno...........*stops mid sentance as she is poofed into a pile of ash*
* StopLaughing fires at red alert music
<StopLaughing> lol
<Oz> oh dear.......
* Oz lets red alert music fizzle out
* StopLaughing fires happily into the air
* Cam got poofed
<StopLaughing> yeeha!
*** Cam is now known as poofed
 
lplonewolf (7:16:52 PM): I had to go down the unemployment office today and tell them what i've been doing to look for work, lol
lplonewolf (7:16:52 PM): not fun
N05F3R47U101 (7:18:14 PM): Tell them you've looked everywhere, under the carpet, in the freezer, even checked all your pockets but it's nowhere to be found.
lplonewolf (7:18:36 PM): lol thats about the only excuse I have left :)
N05F3R47U101 (7:19:33 PM): *shrug* Sounds reasonable to me.
lplonewolf (7:23:45 PM): They aren't reasonable people. :-(
N05F3R47U101 (7:24:48 PM): offer them some tea & crumpets or whatever you crazy brits eat.
lplonewolf (7:25:05 PM): battenburg lol
 
Out of the gate, it's Walk the Dog followed by Take Out the Trash and Do the Dishes, out of nowhere comes Call From Mom followed by Nagging and Guilt Trip. It's Nagging, it's Guilt Trip. It's Nagging and Nagging is relentless. Wait a minute, it looks like Walk the Dog has a little left in him. Now it's Walk the Dog with Watch TV and Take a Nap. I don't believe it, it's Call From Mom, she just won't go away! And in the end, it's Another Boring Saturday!
 
This is the message from Michael Berg, father of Nicholas Berg to the Stop The War Coalition on 16th May 2005 (sic).

It will be read out to the Emergency Demonstration on Saturday 22nd May.

For further information please contact either Andrew Burgin on 07939 242 229 or Ghada Razuki on 07958 450 867



To: The Stop the War Coalition

When I read your generous offer to come speak at the Coalition Rally, a heart that was overflowing with sorrow knew that it was being offered a receptacle to receive some of that overflow. People who know me, ask me how I can stand in front of a TV camera and know that I am speaking to the people of the world. Seven weeks ago I would not have been able to do so. But seven weeks ago there was no need to do so, and the world was not flooding me with mail, email and phone calls and pouring into me the strength I needed.

When I eulogized my son, Nick, I said that he was my teacher and my hero. He was the kindest, gentlest, man I know, no, the kindest, gentlest human being I know or have ever known. Did you know that he quit the Boy Scouts of America because they wanted to teach him to fire a hand gun, ironically, at Dover Air Force Base the place that Nick was returned to? Nick too poured into me the strength I needed and still need to tell the world about him and to send out his message of peace and brotherhood with the family he shared made up of the people of the world.

People ask me why I focus on putting the blame for my son's tragic and atrocious end on the Bush Administration. They ask: "Don't you blame the five men who killed him?" I have answered that I blame them no more or less than the Bush Administration, but I am wrong: I am sure, knowing my son, that somewhere during their association with him these men became aware of what an extraordinary man my son was. I take comfort in the fact that when they did the awful thing they did, they weren't quite as in to it as they might have been. I am sure that they came to admire him. I am sure that the one who wielded the knife felt Nick's breath upon his hand and knew that he had a real human being there. I am sure that the others looked into my son's eyes and got at least just a glimmer of what the rest of the world sees. And I am sure that these murderers, for just a brief moment did not like what they were doing.

But George Bush never looked into my son's eyes. George Bush doesn't know my son, Nick. And he is the worse for it. George Bush, though a father himself cannot feel my pain nor that of my family or the world who grieve for Nick, because he is a policy maker and he doesn't have to bare the consequences of his acts. George Bush can see neither the heart of Nicholas nor the American People yet alone the people his policies are killing daily. Donald Rumsfeld said that he took the responsibility for the sexual abuse of Iraqi prisoners. How could he take that responsibility when there was no consequence. Nick took the consequences of the policies both stated and given with a wink and a nod by the Bush administration. And I can't stand even more than those murderers who took my son's life, those who sit and make policies to end lives and break the lives of the still living.

Nick was not in the military, but he was a soldier. He had the discipline and dedication of a soldier. But Nick Berg was a soldier of peace in Iraq to help the people without any expectation of personal gain. The trouble was he was only one man, but through his death he has become many. The spirit, the truly unselfish spirit of giving your all to do what you know in your own heart is right even when you know it may be dangerous, this spirit has spread among the people who knew Nick, and that group has spread and is spreading all over the world even as I write these words For all of the soldiers and family of soldiers in Iraq on either side who believe they were in Iraq working for peace, I say: Nick is your brother. Nick was there to help win the peace not only by helping to rebuild what was torn down, but by spreading his message of peace and love.

So what were we to do when we in America were attacked on September 11, that infamous day? I say we should have done then what we never did before: Stop speaking to the people we labeled our enemies and start listening to them. Stop giving preconditions to our peaceful coexistence on this small planet, and start honoring and respecting every human's need to live free and autonomously, to truly respect the sovereignty of every state whether it be Israel, or Palestine, or Iraq. To stop making up rules by which others must live and then separate rules for ourselves.

We all know now that the controls for the weapons of mass destruction are in the White House. And George Bush has used a few of those weapons on the world. His ineffective leadership is a weapon of mass destruction and it has allowed a chain reaction of events that lead to the unlawful detention of my son. Yes it was the US government under whose authority my son was held. No one believes the Iraqi Police control the American FBI and Military, Mr. Bush. That detention immersed my son in a world of escalated violence which were it not for his detention would have had him in my arms again. That detention held him in Iraq not only until the atrocities that lead to the siege of Fallujah, but to the revelation of the atrocities committed in the jails in Iraq in retaliation for which my son's wonderful life was put to and end.

My son's life was put to an end, but his work still goes on. Where there was one peacemaker before I now see and have heard from thousands of peacemakers. And for every one of them there are thousands more who can't find the words but feel the same way. Nick Berg was a man who acted on his beliefs. We the people of this world now need to act on our beliefs. We need to let the evildoers on both sides of the Atlantic know that we are fed up with war. We are fed up with the killing and bombing and maiming of innocent people. We are fed up with the lies from our government about Nick's detention and we are fed up with the lies from our government about the reasons for this war. Yes, we are fed up with the suicide bombers, and with the failure of the Israelis and Palestinians to find a way to stop killing each other. We are fed up with negotiations and peace conferences that are entered into on both sides with preset conditions that preclude the outcome of peace. We want world peace now!!!

What is it, I have to ask, that our leaders and the leaders of the world are afraid they will lose that is any more valuable than PEACE? Many people have offered to pray for Nick and my family. I appreciate their thoughts, but I ask them to include in their prayers a prayer for peace. I ask them to do more than pray. I ask them to demand PEACE NOW! from the politicians and leaders in the white house and in the state houses across the world and in the mountain camps where they may hide. Let the politicians know that you want PEACE NOW! And let them know that if you don't get it, they aren't going to work for you as their leaders any more. DEMAND PEACE NOW! DEMAND PEACE NOW! PEACE NOW! PEACE NOW! PEACE NOW!
 
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