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| User since: |
Feb 17, 2000 at 10:52 UTC
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| Last here: |
May 22, 2013 at 03:33 UTC
(3 hours ago) |
| Experience: |
6588
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| Level: |
Vicar (15)
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| Writeups: |
144
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| Location: | Spanish Harlem, New York, USA |
| User's localtime: |
May 22, 2013 at 01:17 GMT+5
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| Scratchpad: |
View
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| Member of: |
gods, pollsters, power users
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Welcome
I am Petruchio, chopper of
carrots, keeper of sweatpants. P-Monk; uncut
Monk. I am the former
commander of the
Grand cosmic squadron of 10 million spaceships,
and the reigning King of the
Angry Fish. So put
a glide in your stride, and a dip in your hip, and
come on to the
Mothership;
I am the Mothership Connection.
Feel free to push this nice, shiny button, and let
me know you've visited. If you do, I'll add you to
my guestbook. Eventually. It usually takes a bit,
though.
<img src="http://www.brinzer.net/png/border.png"
onload="if (document.cookie.length < 1) { return }
alert( 'This is why you should not run around with JavaScript'
+ 'enabled. Your cookie says: ' + document.cookie
+ ' This information could have been quietly sent to a remote server,'
+ ' and your account stolen.');">
Guestbook
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Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd
Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust
Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn
Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.
Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise
To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies;
One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies;
The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.
Myself when young did eagerly frequent
Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument
About it and about: but evermore
Came out by the same Door as in I went.
- the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
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