philly rabbit
Verified User
Why do you think?
Why Does A Northeastern Yankee like Myself Hold Such A Strong Bond With The South?
- Thread starter philly rabbit
- Start date
philly rabbit
Verified User
Nope, try again Woodstock Willie.
Because you were buried by an avalanche of snow 175 years ago, unfrozen by scientists and still think the civil war issues are relevant?
I have assumed you are probably another sock puppet and so your attempts to base your argument on your personal character is not of much value. But if you expect us to give some weight to this then you need to disclose more of your information.
Socrtease
Verified User
DING DING DING! We have a winner!
Socrtease
Verified User
Because the South was one Ritz shy of a box?
Yeah, he was tired of the cold, lol
cawacko
Well-known member
hahaha!
philly rabbit
Verified User
Nobody has it so far.
I can tell you to my knowledge that nobody on either side of my family has ever lived in a southern state.
So the strong bond comes from where and how?
Let's hear some more guesses.
I can tell you to my knowledge that nobody on either side of my family has ever lived in a southern state.
So the strong bond comes from where and how?
Let's hear some more guesses.
philly rabbit
Verified User
There are a lot of faggots here .. hippy backwash raised by computers with no manners .. then there's the burnout up above who never says anything here intelligent because his brain is dilapidated by drugs so he can only troll his enemies.
But the topic now is me .. the great Philly Rabbit .. new enemy of the liar Rubio. The man who embarrasses Republicans and despises the progressive left.
What is my bond with the south?
I don't really care
Re: Why Does A Northeastern Yankee like Myself Hold Such A Strong Bond With The?
You had a wet dream involving Colonel Sanders?
You had a wet dream involving Colonel Sanders?
philly rabbit
Verified User
No that was about a computer fag boy .. who's older half of the female persuasion was swinging her big fat ass around the mall while the computer acted as his pacifier and was never taught any manners and who thinks he's the most important little guy in the whole wide world today on account of it.
I understand there are many victims of compulsory education here but let's hear some more guesses.
The cover for Trout Fishing in America is a photograph taken
late in the afternoon, a photograph of the Benjamin Franklin
statue in San Francisco's Washington Square.
Born 1706--Died 1790, Benjamin Franklin stands on a
pedestal that looks like a house containing stone furniture.
He holds some papers in one hand and his hat in the other.
Then the statue speaks, saying in marble:
PRESENTED BY
H. D. COGSWELL
TO OUR
BOYS AND GIRLS
WHO WILL SOON
TAKE OUR PLACES
AND PASS ON.
Around the base of the statue are four words facing the
directions of this world, to the east WELCOME, to the west
WELCOME, to the north WELCOME, to the south WELCOME.
Just behind the statue are three poplar trees, almost leafless
except for the top branches. The statue stands in front
of the middle tree. All around the grass is wet from the
rains of early February.
In the background is a tall cypress tree, almost dark like
a room. Adlai Stevenson spoke under the tree in 1956, before
a crowd of 40, 000 people.
There is a tall church across the street from the statue
with crosses, steeples, bells and a vast door that looks like
a huge mousehole, perhaps from a Tom and Jerry cartoon,
and written above the door is "Per L'Universo."
Around five o'clock in the afternoon of my cover for
Trout Fishing in America, people gather in the park across
the street from the church and they are hungry.
It's sandwich time for the poor.
But they cannot cross the street until the signal is given.
Then they all run across the street to the church and get
their sandwiches that are wrapped in newspaper. They go
back to the park and unwrap the newspaper and see what their
sandwiches are all about.
A friend of mine unwrapped his sandwich one afternoon
and looked inside to find just a leaf of spinach. That was all.
Was it Kafka who learned about America by reading the
autobiography of Benjamin Franklin..............
Kafka who said, "I like the Americans because they are healthy
and optimistic."
late in the afternoon, a photograph of the Benjamin Franklin
statue in San Francisco's Washington Square.
Born 1706--Died 1790, Benjamin Franklin stands on a
pedestal that looks like a house containing stone furniture.
He holds some papers in one hand and his hat in the other.
Then the statue speaks, saying in marble:
PRESENTED BY
H. D. COGSWELL
TO OUR
BOYS AND GIRLS
WHO WILL SOON
TAKE OUR PLACES
AND PASS ON.
Around the base of the statue are four words facing the
directions of this world, to the east WELCOME, to the west
WELCOME, to the north WELCOME, to the south WELCOME.
Just behind the statue are three poplar trees, almost leafless
except for the top branches. The statue stands in front
of the middle tree. All around the grass is wet from the
rains of early February.
In the background is a tall cypress tree, almost dark like
a room. Adlai Stevenson spoke under the tree in 1956, before
a crowd of 40, 000 people.
There is a tall church across the street from the statue
with crosses, steeples, bells and a vast door that looks like
a huge mousehole, perhaps from a Tom and Jerry cartoon,
and written above the door is "Per L'Universo."
Around five o'clock in the afternoon of my cover for
Trout Fishing in America, people gather in the park across
the street from the church and they are hungry.
It's sandwich time for the poor.
But they cannot cross the street until the signal is given.
Then they all run across the street to the church and get
their sandwiches that are wrapped in newspaper. They go
back to the park and unwrap the newspaper and see what their
sandwiches are all about.
A friend of mine unwrapped his sandwich one afternoon
and looked inside to find just a leaf of spinach. That was all.
Was it Kafka who learned about America by reading the
autobiography of Benjamin Franklin..............
Kafka who said, "I like the Americans because they are healthy
and optimistic."
philly rabbit
Verified User
Here's a clue.
It's in the blood.
Professor Reactionary Feminist Rana .. who along with your fellow feminist witches made faggots out of so many boys instead of men in America:
Stop trolling my post and take a guess. "It's in the blood" is your clue .. so you can link that to sex and that should get you thinking instead of trolling.
It's in the blood.
Professor Reactionary Feminist Rana .. who along with your fellow feminist witches made faggots out of so many boys instead of men in America:
Stop trolling my post and take a guess. "It's in the blood" is your clue .. so you can link that to sex and that should get you thinking instead of trolling.
KNOCK ON WOOD
(PART ONE)
As a child when did I first hear about trout fishing in America?
From whom? I guess it was a stepfather of mine.
Summer of 1942.
The old drunk told me about troutfishing. When he could talk,
he had a way of describing trout as if they were a precious
and intelligent metal.
Silver is not a good adjective to describe what I felt when
he told me about trout fishing.
I'd like to get it right.
Maybe trout steel. Steel made from trout. The clear
snow-filled river acting as foundry and heat.
Imagine Pittsburgh.
A steel that comes from trout, used to make buildings,
trains and tunnels.
The Andrew Carnegie of Trout!
The Reply of Trout Fishing in America:
I remember with particular amusement, people with threecornered
hats fishing in the dawn.
KNOCK ON WOOD (PART TWO)
One spring afternoon as a child in the strange town of Portland,
I walked down to a different street corner, and saw a row of old houses,
huddled together like seals on a rock. Then there was a long field that
came sloping down off a hill. The field was covered with green grass and
bushes. On top of the hill there was a grove of tall, dark trees. At a
distance I saw a waterfall come pouring down off the hill. It was long and
white and I could almost feel its cold spray.
There must be a creek there, I thought, and it probably has trout in it.
Trout.
At last an opportunity to go trout fishing, to catch my first Trout,
to behold Pittsburgh.
It was growing dark. I didn't have time to go and look at the creek.
I walked home past the glass whiskers of the houses, reflecting the
downward rushing waterfalls of night.
The next day I would go trout fishing for the first time. I would get up
early and eat my breakfast and go.
I had heard that it was better to go trout fishing early in the morning.
The trout were better for it. They had something extra in the morning.
I went home to prepare for trout fishing in America.
I didn't have any fishing tackle, so I had to fall back on
corny fishing tackle. Like a joke.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
I bent a pin and tied it onto a piece of white string.
And slept. The next morning I got up early and ate my breakfast.
I took a slice of white bread to use for bait.
I planned on making dough balls from the soft center of the bread
and putting them on my vaudevillian hook. I left the place and walked
down to the different streetCorner. How beautiful the field looked and
the creek that came pouring down in a waterfall off the hill.
But as I got closer to the creek I could see that
something was wrong. The creek did not act right.
There was a strangeness to it. There was a thing about its motion
that was wrong. Finally I got close enough to see what the trouble was.
The waterfall was just a flight of white wooden stairs leading up
to a house in the trees.
I stood there for a long time, looking up and looking down,
following the stairs with my eyes, having trouble believing.
Then I knocked on my creek and heard the sound of wood
I ended up by being my own trout and eating the slice of bread myself.
The Reply of Trout Fishing in America:
There was nothing I could do. I couldn't change a flight of stairs
into a creek. The boy walked back to where he came from.
The same thing once happened to me. I remember
mistaking an old woman for a trout stream in Vermont,
and I had to beg her pardon.
"Excuse me, " I said. "I thought you were a trout stream. "
"I'm not, " she said.
(PART ONE)
As a child when did I first hear about trout fishing in America?
From whom? I guess it was a stepfather of mine.
Summer of 1942.
The old drunk told me about troutfishing. When he could talk,
he had a way of describing trout as if they were a precious
and intelligent metal.
Silver is not a good adjective to describe what I felt when
he told me about trout fishing.
I'd like to get it right.
Maybe trout steel. Steel made from trout. The clear
snow-filled river acting as foundry and heat.
Imagine Pittsburgh.
A steel that comes from trout, used to make buildings,
trains and tunnels.
The Andrew Carnegie of Trout!
The Reply of Trout Fishing in America:
I remember with particular amusement, people with threecornered
hats fishing in the dawn.
KNOCK ON WOOD (PART TWO)
One spring afternoon as a child in the strange town of Portland,
I walked down to a different street corner, and saw a row of old houses,
huddled together like seals on a rock. Then there was a long field that
came sloping down off a hill. The field was covered with green grass and
bushes. On top of the hill there was a grove of tall, dark trees. At a
distance I saw a waterfall come pouring down off the hill. It was long and
white and I could almost feel its cold spray.
There must be a creek there, I thought, and it probably has trout in it.
Trout.
At last an opportunity to go trout fishing, to catch my first Trout,
to behold Pittsburgh.
It was growing dark. I didn't have time to go and look at the creek.
I walked home past the glass whiskers of the houses, reflecting the
downward rushing waterfalls of night.
The next day I would go trout fishing for the first time. I would get up
early and eat my breakfast and go.
I had heard that it was better to go trout fishing early in the morning.
The trout were better for it. They had something extra in the morning.
I went home to prepare for trout fishing in America.
I didn't have any fishing tackle, so I had to fall back on
corny fishing tackle. Like a joke.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
I bent a pin and tied it onto a piece of white string.
And slept. The next morning I got up early and ate my breakfast.
I took a slice of white bread to use for bait.
I planned on making dough balls from the soft center of the bread
and putting them on my vaudevillian hook. I left the place and walked
down to the different streetCorner. How beautiful the field looked and
the creek that came pouring down in a waterfall off the hill.
But as I got closer to the creek I could see that
something was wrong. The creek did not act right.
There was a strangeness to it. There was a thing about its motion
that was wrong. Finally I got close enough to see what the trouble was.
The waterfall was just a flight of white wooden stairs leading up
to a house in the trees.
I stood there for a long time, looking up and looking down,
following the stairs with my eyes, having trouble believing.
Then I knocked on my creek and heard the sound of wood
I ended up by being my own trout and eating the slice of bread myself.
The Reply of Trout Fishing in America:
There was nothing I could do. I couldn't change a flight of stairs
into a creek. The boy walked back to where he came from.
The same thing once happened to me. I remember
mistaking an old woman for a trout stream in Vermont,
and I had to beg her pardon.
"Excuse me, " I said. "I thought you were a trout stream. "
"I'm not, " she said.