that ....takes .....too loooooong , must have SPAMMMMMMMM , BIG BITES OF SPAM , not cheap generic spam , but honest to god brands name spam !!!!!!!!
with the min. or 2 i have to waste getting it out of the can , its all i can do to take the few seconds to grab the ketchup and salt ................... the greatest use of packaging technology was puting a pull tab on the can to get rid of those old keys and tabs !
some day i'm gonna sit down and design a SPAM gun , its kinda like a caulking gun , except it pushes SPAM out with a bead of ketchup . just put the tip on the plate ..........or in your mouth and pull the lever and it would push it right out with no torqing the can or anything like that to get it to come out .
Well, there's spam, egg, sausage, and spam... that's not got much spam in it.
(slight amending of Monty Python follows; best I can do for now)
Father: "What? No rat? Well, then, what's for afters? Mother: "Strawberry tart." Father: "Does it have any rat in it?" Mother: "Just a little." Father: "All right, I'll have some strawberry tart without so much rat in it." (ding) Woman's soft voice: "One strawberry tart without so much rat in it. Later." Father: "Oh, that was truly horrible." Mother: "Oh, you're always complaining." (door opens and closes) Son: "Hello, Mum, hello, Dad." Father: "Hello, son." Son: "There's another dead bishop on the landing." Father: "Really?" Mother: "What's his diocese?" Son: "Looks a little Bars and Wells-ish." Mother: "Should we call the Church?" Father: "Let's call the Church Police." All: "The Church Police!" (squeal of tires, screech of brakes) (door opens and closes again) Mother: "Are you the Church Police?" Man: "We are." Mother: "Reverend Corporal --" Man: "Vicar Sargeant." Mother: "Vicar Sargeant, there's another dead bishop on the landing." V.S.: "Is that strawberry tart with rat in it?" Mother: "Er, yes." V.S.: "Disgusting. Right, men! The chase is on! Now we should all kneel." All: "O Lord. We beseech Thee. Who croaked Lester?" Lord: "The one in grey says he done it." V.S.: "Then we all agree that society's to blame. Now we should all sing." All: "All things wise and wonderful / All creatures great and small / All things bright and beautiful / The Church doth make them all. Amen." (fart sound)
Father: "What? No rat? Well, then, what's for afters? Mother: "Strawberry tart." Father: "Does it have any rat in it?" Mother: "Just a little." Father: "How much?" Mother: pause "Three. Rather a lot, really." Father: "All right, I'll have some strawberry tart without so much rat in it." (ding) Woman's soft voice: "One strawberry tart without so much rat in it. Later." Father: "Oh, that was truly horrible." Mother: "Oh, you're always complaining." (door opens and closes) Son: "Hello, Mum, hello, Dad." Father: "Hello, son." Son: "There's another dead bishop on the landing." Father: "Really?" Mother: "What's his diocese?" Son: "Looks a little Bars and Wells-ish." Father: "I'll check." goes outside and comes back. "Licester." Mother: "How can you tell?" Father: "It's written on the back of their necks." Son: "Should we call the Police?" Mother: "Should we call the Church?" Father: "Let's call the Church Police." All: "The Church Police!" (squeal of tires, screech of brakes) (door opens and closes again) Mother: "Are you the Church Police?" Man: "We are." Mother: "Reverend Corporal --" Man: "Vicar Sargeant." Mother: "Vicar Sargeant, there's another dead bishop on the landing." V.S.: "Is that strawberry tart with rat in it?" Mother: "Er, yes." V.S.: "Disgusting. Right, men! The chase is on! Now we should all kneel." All: "O Lord. We beseech Thee. Who croaked Lester?" Lord: "The one in grey says he done it." (big Terry Gilliam pointing hand comes down and points at Father.) Father: "Right. It's a fair cop. But society is to blame." V.S. "Agreed. And now, let us sing." All: (singing, with hymnals) "And did those trees, in ancient times, walk upon England's mountain."
But there could have easily been more than one version.
Father: "What? No rat? Well, then, what's for afters? Mother: "Strawberry tart." Father: "Does it have any rat in it?" Mother: "Just a little." Father: "How much?" Mother: pause "Three. Rather a lot, really." Father: "All right, I'll have some strawberry tart without so much rat in it." (ding) Woman's soft voice: "One strawberry tart without so much rat in it. Later." Father: "Oh, that was truly horrible." Mother: "Oh, you're always complaining." (door opens and closes) Son: "Hello, Mum, hello, Dad." Father: "Hello, son." Son: "There's another dead bishop on the landing." Father: "Really?" Mother: "What's his diocese?" Son: "Looks a little Bars and Wells-ish." Father: "I'll check." goes outside and comes back. "Licester." Mother: "How can you tell?" Father: "It's written on the back of their necks." Son: "Should we call the Police?" Mother: "Should we call the Church?" Father: "Let's call the Church Police." All: "The Church Police!" (squeal of tires, screech of brakes) (door opens and closes again) Mother: "Are you the Church Police?" Man: "We are." Mother: "Reverend Corporal --" Man: "Vicar Sargeant." Mother: "Vicar Sargeant, there's another dead bishop on the landing." V.S.: "Is that strawberry tart with rat in it?" Mother: "Er, yes." V.S.: "Disgusting. Right, men! The chase is on! Now we should all kneel." All: "O Lord. We beseech Thee. Who croaked Lester?" Lord: "The one in grey says he done it." (big Terry Gilliam pointing hand comes down and points at Father.) Father: "Right. It's a fair cop. But society is to blame." V.S. "Agreed. And now, let us sing." All: (singing, with hymnals) "And did those trees, in ancient times, walk upon England's mountain."
But there could have easily been more than one version.
True. Now that I remember better, I thought I heard, "It's tattooed on the back of their necks."
-And now for something completely different... a board game geek who cannot, allow me to repeat myself, cannot quote any Monty Python... wait?! where did he go? --I don't know he just scampered off. -Really? You know I'm beginning to think he doesn't exist! --He does too! He was just all shagged out from pining for the fjords. He's just off for a rest, he'll be back. -PININ' for the FJORDS?!?!?!? What kind of talk is that?, last night you told me he was over to play some Flux and when I got there not ten minutes later her was gone! -well is was a short game. --THAT's not the point! -He had the Trojan Rabbit, Sir Bedevere. and he had a Plan in his opening hand! --I'm not talking about the game! You told me he would come to this thread and prove that there is one board game geek in the universe that cannot quote Monty Python at all and I have yet to meet him! -MOM! The announcer isn't playing the game right! Mom: He's not the announcer he's a very naughty boy! the Closet fly's open three men jump out. ALL: THE SPANISH INQUISITION! the three men: NO ONE EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISITION!
some day i'm gonna sit down and design a SPAM gun , its kinda like a caulking gun , except it pushes SPAM out with a bead of ketchup . just put the tip on the plate ..........or in your mouth and pull the lever and it would push it right out with no torqing the can or anything like that to get it to come out .
