Oh, like Uday and Qusay, you can't kill this immortal fucker, nobody got the guts to plow a TOW in it. Instead, thousands of gutless have hari-kiried by exiting the battle for well.com nutlick where the dead live in perfect, silent synchrony, so that is a no-brain, no-work option. Sit still, children, repeat this. Hell, start a DOA mail list to bitch about how stupid people are outside of old folks cess-suck. Read yourself sitting on a one-holer. Nothing wrong with cypherpunks that couldn't be cured, as ever, by more fresh young meat totally ignorant and not giving a shit about how it used to be, only hot to throw slop at what's puked by the wizened, the reputable, the stuffed with here's how it's meant to be. Now that revulsion against whoever has truth by tail is a dim memory of what cpunks was meant to be, was now and again, not a place for boozy glory days telling a sanitized tale of what never happened. Pontificators are usually hooted off the list, save for a few protected species taxidermied for darts. The old days, don't believe them, cypherpunks was and is toxic to serious makeovers and shutdowns and lock-outs, and, never forget that PLONKS are cries of shut the fuck up and listen to me. Pluck the PLONKS, if you don't get them you aint earning your stay. PLONKERS little-man your wee-wees. Hiccups a fogey one hand hanging on the bar rail, the other rooting the floor vomit for a chawtabaccy cud ricochet from the spit bucket. ]=;& Uday