| # | Comment | Survey |
|---|
| 121 | If my wife has a nightmare, yould I want her to wake me up? Like, her nightmare is so bad I comfort her? I often do, several times a week in fact. My wife has bad nightmares. | If your SO had a nightmare would you want them to wake you up for comfort? |
| 122 | This reminds my of a day, long ago, when I walked hand in hand with my grandfather, God rest his dearly departed soul. We walked across the bridge down maple street, past of the old post-office of mr. clarence, you might remember that affair this summer with his dog and that young lass from denny, the one who had that misfortunous accident with the bike, poor lass, she suffered such a terrible sprain in her left ankle and she played professional tennis with the boys down denny. But I digress. Anyhow, I walked with my Grandfather down maple street, a sweet april sun smiling down on us, and it has just rained, and the street smelled sweet and fresh, the cole brook clattering, the old mill still in repair with mister Danforth chopping away at a large block of cement, his trousers still stained, that faded lumberjack shirt his wife bought him when visiting her inlaws in Canada, that year she had that terrible argument with mrs. witherspoon. But I digress. Anyhow, my Grandfather, God rest his soul, his eyed lost focus and I knew a wartime story was about to emerge. His gentle voice took me back to the Borman offensive in the french Ardennes, must have been late 1944, a terribly cold, cold winter. His chaplain had his hand frozen right off, due to a heavy sedative he had to take on account of some colon disorder. My Grandfather described me that fatefull day in great detail. Let me summarize it by telling you about the tents, the pale snow-clad landscape, the packed trucks that were commandeered from the local population, nearly the first day my Grandfather landed down Omaha beach, those trucks he lost his virginity with a volluptuous Parisian wench earlier that year (a funny story in fact, remind me to tell you one day) and he had made a sketch of the scenery using a piece of carbonized wood, on the back of a large manilla envelope (etc. etc. blah blah blah) | Can you please let us hear your acceptance speech. |
| 123 | Americani ! Pfah ! | "I'm not gay! I'm British!" Do you think that line is funny? |
| 124 | I ate only a few sandwiches and some noodles. Why should I feel fatter? Screw christmas. | Christmas puts on weight |
| 125 | *grabs left & right & underneath, pinches hard* | Christmas puts on weight |
| 126 | Believe? Belief traditionally is based on assumption. Belief is overrated. In our culrure belief is granted to much credence. People too quickly just assume. I try to evaluate more carefully, transcend belief, by scrutiny, scepsis, maybe even cynicism. I analyze and attempt to reach insight, comprehension, intuition, understanding. That's not belief. I experience those states as better than Belief. Unfortunately this implies I consider nothing sacred. I intend to take everything apart, delve, probe, deconstruct, reconstruct, experience, maybe even violate. This leaves pure faith in the cold, abandoned. I abandon dogma, raw assumption, default-ism, paradigm, status quo; I wage a battle of sacrilege, challenge, rebellion, pride. I oppose, question, imperil. What passes these tests, scrutinously executed, does no longer qualfy as faith. It has become smething else; you decide. | Christmas puts on weight |
| 127 | One finger. Two fingers. Threeeee fingers. | Christmas puts on weight |
| 128 | Bluegh | 2001 in retrospect |
| 129 | I have been immunized against taking offense in my early youth. It's standard practice here in Holland. | Do any of the surveys here at Survey Central ever offend you? |
| 130 | Without having seen it I will try to outgross you! Challenge dude! | Do any of the surveys here at Survey Central ever offend you? |
