The Letter Q

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This podcast of a Jim S. the Folderman has been brough to you by the letter Q…

Why does it seem like everything is brought to you by the letter “Q”?
“A” gets a bum rap if you ask me. It is first and foremost among the letters and yet that damned “Q” gets all that attention. It’s not fair, I say. And a good marketing campaign is essential to rectify the problem.
Obviously, “A” didn’t think it would need a good publicist and manager. It forgot that the first is often the quickest to fade from memory and quite blatantly relied on advice from a manager who was already making the quick bucks on “Q”’s career.

A’s manager sounds like my agent.

Dane

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Andrew Ian Dodge jumps on the whole Danish Cartoon Kerfuffle…

Its pretty amazing that so much trouble is being caused by just 12 cartoons from a tiny country called Denmark. Muslim countries in the world are shocked at the testicular fortitude of Danish leaders. It seems clear that the Muslim bully-boys don’t realise that Danes come from Viking stock. The more Muslims threaten Danes with violence and boycott’s the more united they become. Its also interesting to see that many European countries are backing Denmark; not so surprising the EU is backing the Muslim countries. I urge all of you to buy Danish often and stand up for free speech!

Um… er… okay.
Is Pez Danish?

Shadowplay

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There’s this bar Downtown that features exotic dancers, but they are only visible behind backlit scrims. The patrons are treated to the erotic display of shadows, while the owners can claim that the patrons aren’t actually seeing the nude performers.
Nothing is exposed, no flesh is visible at all. Technically, everything’s legal, and everybody’s happy.
Well, not everybody. There’s always somebody.
They balked, claiming some kind of harm, demanding that they stop the titillating shows at once.
The bar owner refused to back down and fought them in court.
After extensive and painstaking research by the judge, the owner won.

It wasn’t a simple exit from a carnie ride

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Jim S. takes the carnival ride exit sign theme to its fun conclusion…

It wasn’t a simple exit from a carnie ride.
To her, it was a vision, an epiphany, if you will. Her entire life had been spent building up to this moment. On the other side of that flashy, impressive “EXIT” sign was a new life.
She’d followed, unhappily in her mother’s footsteps and enlisted in the carnie lifestyle. Every step of the way, she’d dreaded it, UNTIL today. Today’s events had changed everything. This time she meant it. It was about time for her to be out of here.
So, without further adieu, the bearded lady stepped through the exit.

You go, girl!

Trashman

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You thought you could hide from me.
You were wrong.
Every morning, I want to see her there, feel her touch.
You took her away from me, left her under a garbage heap.
Her hand in mine. Her other hand. Her foot.
Torn to pieces By you.
I want to see you bleed, but the years have taken their toll. I am blind now.
I will have to satisfy myself with feeling the warm, slick blood running down your throat.
Maybe I will taste it, seeking the flavor of your rapidly ending life.
I want to see you bleed.
Forever.

Growing Old Disgracefully

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He’s our generation’s Kurt Cobain, but without the huge holes in his head… it’s Andrew Ian Dodge!

Old enough to know better
Just too young to care
Old enough to know better
Too damn drunk to care
Growing Old Disgracefully
Beats dying young & innocent
Growing up does not mean
Working hard all day
worrying about keeping lean
Or if you are going all grey
Bald, white or silver hair
You can still rock like hell
No need to be in despair
Until they ring da final bell.
Death comes to you whatever
Being boring don’t make you last
We are by the grace of
Whatever or whomever let’s us stay alive
Why bother sitting & praying

I’m holding up a lit cigarette lighter.

It has been a long night

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Jim S. The Folderman comes up with an odd story about a birthday surprise…

It had been a long night. Since it was my birthday today, I hadn’t minded spending the night with those “buddies” from Xylon-7. They were quite hospitable, as usual, it’s just that I tend to “forget” certain parts of the night after a few rounds of Driamian ale.
Like the time they probed me, just to make use of that Earth-cliché. I didn’t remember it until the video was playing on the main view-screen in the office a week later. Ha-ha… very funny.
Only Xylon knows what “fun” event from last night will turn up on the view-screen next week!

Happy birthday, Jim!

The Roar

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All he could remember from the speech was saying “Thank you” and descending the steps from the stage.
“Great speech!” said his assistant. “Inspiring!”
He thought for a moment. Still a blank.
“What speech?”
The audience, applauding even louder, shouted for more.
He looked at his notes.
Blank.
“Go ahead,” said his assistant, pressing a sheaf of paper in his hand. “Give them an encore.”
“An encore of what?”
He looked at the new set of notes.
Also blank.
He shrugged, stood up, and raised his fist in the air as he walked back up the stairs to the stage.

LD

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Andrew Ian Dodge does his usual political scrying and reports…

Another weekend and more a consolidation of Lib-Dem scandals than any new ones. Readers of the News of the Screws were greeted with an interview and picture of the ballet dancer/rent-boy involved with Mark Oaten. Considering how much the guy makes and charges its more like Mortgage boy.
Steyn makes an interesting point:
Forty per cent of Lib Dems now say they want Charles Kennedy back in charge. Another week, and the rest will be happy to take Jeremy Thorpe.
Lib-Dems seem to think the scandals won’t hurt them at all. Their plummeting polling numbers are an illusion I guess.

How about some unicorns?

Tossers

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Spotters located asteroids.
Grabbers grabbed asteroids.
Shovers retrieved asteroids.
Chewers pulverized asteroids.
Sniffers analyzed asteroids.
And Gulpers ate them for sorting and processing.
Thanks to goofball rules held over from Terran Days, there were also Packers and Tossers. They packed the tailings back into dense balls of spacerock and launched them back into the belt.
Sometimes, tossers liked to have a little fun, whizzing a million-ton boulder inches from a control pod or a cruise ship.
Tosser 7-D used millimeters instead of inches. Another holdover from Terran Days, that stupid Metric System.
Bye bye, Titanic. We’re still counting the bodies.