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Look, I've opened all these packing crates and I still can't find that page. Could you check that address?


In the meantime, here's some web-page seconds we had lying around.


we can do this movie the way Bakshi should have done it. IMHO, however, I can't see Minnie as Galadriel. The tall, beautiful Elven queen portrayed by some oversize Disney rodent? Some hormone-injected rat? I think not. Noooo, the beauty and wisdom of Galadriel and Celeborn must come through. I'd suggest Boris and Natasha for the parts. Maybe Minnie can play Arwen. Which suggests Mr. Peabody for Gandalf: he has both the wisdom and the attitude for the part. It's a bit of a departure from traditional casting, but I'd be sorely tempted to cast a woman as Saruman: Evil-lyn, from "He-Man and the Masters of the Universe". A powerful magician turned to evil, with a voice of silken iron
progress has achieved wonderful things, too. Paving. Asphalt. Smog. Car alarms that wake you up in the middle of the fucking night. Carcinogenic food. The Exxon Valdez. That stereo in the apartment upstairs. Hydrogen bombs. Hormone-injected meat. Artificial coloring. Alarm clocks (and a society so dependent on measured time that we need alarm clocks). Television, and a society that has replaced "How can we improve the human condition?" with "Hey, did'ja see the Simpsons last night? Huh huh". An Internet where people like us can waste away their free time instead of going out and having a life. Yeah! Progress! I love it! Get me the genetic splicing kit! I want to make a new kind of trout!
"Woo woo woo! Look at them legs!" the fresh maple leaves shouted. The cloth catnip mouse was offended, but said nothing. She had long been exposed to that kind of behaviour from deciduous plants. "I'll be glad to get home," she thought to herself. "I'm hungry, and at least Finky will treat me with some respect." She reached 44th Street and entered her building where Adolfo, the bumble-ball doorman, was on duty. He rose unsteadily and nodded to her. Next to his chair was a nearly-empty bottle of kaopectate. "'S' nothin'," he lisped drunkenly. "Jus' a little shot t' hold me until I getta break." She said nothing and, avoiding his gaze, quickly went inside. The elevator arrived at her floor and she dashed into their small apartment. To her surprise she saw the familiar large plastic penguin standing in the doorway to the kitchen, naked, holding a dozen roofing nails in one flipper and a birthday cake, with candles, in the other. "Finky!" she laughed. "You remembered!" "Happy birthday, Sheiloo, my favorite little cloth catnip mouse," Finky replied. After a leisurely candlelit dinner of cake and roofing nails, the two giggled and retired to the bedroom fficial version of the drinking game as passed by Congress. While based largely upon the original rules as enacted by Parliament, there are differences in parliamentary procedure and shot-glasses which make the American version VQVQVQVQT Franklin rule which restricts vodka shots when it would violate the eparation of powers
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Well, Dan, there's been a lot of talk about penguins here in Ottawa, but repeated questions to the President's staff have gone unanswered