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A dinner of leeks contribute stories for publishing

#1 User is offline   J m HofMarN Icon

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Posted 17 May 2005 - 07:32 PM

Ok. After reading a site for some other authors, and having my own dealings with a rather inept publisher, I came up with a brilliant plan. Let me put it simply.

There is a publisher that is well known to publish absolutely anything. A group of authors, wanting to see just how low they would go sent them what may well be the worst book ever. Here's an excerpt from the book they wrote.

QUOTE
"Request denied," Dr. Nance said curtly. "I will not have one of those braided spies who work for the hospital trustees killing my patient! I'll go sees he now," he stormed, and stormed out of the room.
Margaret leaned against the wall and wept a sorrowing floodlike of tears.


You can learn more at their website, Travis Tea dot com

This book was almost published by these people. However, in Chapter 34 they made the mistake of using random computer generated prose which degraded into utter nonsense. We must not make the mistake. We shall write a book that is nonsensical, but not TOO nonsensical. For instance, do not use too many made-up words.

I decided that this would be a fun thing to do. So I wrote a letter to Publish America and asked them to publish my book, "A dinner of leeks" which, as I claimed, "is a series of stories about the triumph of the family that will only make sense to someone with a very keen literary mind" A few days later (which is an insane reply time for any publisher) PA asked to see the entire manuscript.

QUOTE
Dear Mr. Herrmann:

Upon reviewing your query letter for "A dinner of leeks", I would like to invite you to send your complete manuscript to us. Please send your complete manuscript to the below mentioned mailing address.

Please include:
* Your Complete Manuscript
* Any pictures you want considered for the manuscript (if you don't have pictures yet, please include a note that you will be including pictures in the final draft of the manuscript)


So then, we have about a week or two to write several stories. Post them here and I'll put them into a file in no particular order and then send them off to Publish America. I'll be doing this all under my own name just in case something goes wrong and they decide to have the authors of this thing killed or what have you.

Once the book is published we can start telling people about it. This will likely generate a bit of publicity, and maybe even some interesest in the serious works being produced by people who contributed (which is of course the pay off, aside from, all the fun of this)

I'll write the first chapter in order to set the bar. You can either try to make your chapter related to it or just go off on your own. Any genre works.

This post has been edited by J m HofMarN: 17 May 2005 - 07:33 PM

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I don't know about you but I have never advocated that homosexuals, for any reason, be cut out of their mother's womb and thrown into a bin.
- Deucaon toes a hard line on gay fetus rights.
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#2 User is offline   Mnesymone Icon

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Posted 17 May 2005 - 08:12 PM

Count me mildly in... this could be entertaining.
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Posted 17 May 2005 - 08:39 PM

Although I have the horrible feeling this sort of thing may lead to the 'modern art' of the print world, I have to say that it's a good idea.

So, exactly how non-sensical are we permitted to be here? Is acid-trip non-sensical acceptable?
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I want to go back to the films of the 80's, where plots were simple, and explosions happened regularly....
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#4 User is offline   J m HofMarN Icon

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Posted 17 May 2005 - 08:48 PM

A dinner of Leeks Chapter 1

Aunt Marjpore sat at the table. She was longing for something but did not know what it was. It was that kind of conundrum that had ruined her life and her sultry love affair with Pedro, her Guatemalan groundskeeper. She lived in an appartment on the lower east side of Manhattan at that time and one day Pedro came to her to tell her that she was living in an appartment and had never needed him at all.

Pedro was very much like Dumbo's feather. Except that instead of helping Aunt Marjpore to fly, he swindled her out of thousands of dollars while pretending to mow non-existant lawns and care for flowers that were not there. She had loved Pedro, in her own way. Right up until she called immigration on him. At that time she did not love Pedro very much.

But before all of that happened she was a commodore in the British navy. If she had done this during the war of eighteen twelve it would have been considered treason, because she was French and the British were at war with the French at that time. But it was not the war of eighteen twelve. It was world war one and she was a high flying fighter pilot, who always joked that she would one day drop the bomb that killed the Kaiser.

It was at this time that she had realized that it was her destiny to start a family and triumph over adversity. The first part of adversity that faced her was that she was supposed to be fighting in the battle of Verdun next week, because the Germans had scheduled a battle for that time. But instead she moved to the lower east side of Manhattan.

There she had a family. She adopted a bnoy, a girl, and a dog, and an ex convict. The ex convict was a chef. He could cook for her and thus she did not have to cook much and could spend more time with her children and her mail order husband, Jakob.

Even though she had bought Jakob for a sixpence she loved him well. Except for when he would try to escape. Then she did not love him very much. One day I can remember Aunt Maarjpore coming to me and teaching me a very important lesson.

"Hello Aunt Marjpore" I said. "Why must we call you Aunt Marjpore?" I asked.

"Because my child. It is my official title as given by the queen for my honorable service in the first world war."

"It was good that you served in the war Aunt Marjpore. Will you now teach me a valuable symbolic lesson?" I asked with big eyes like tear drops.

"Yes!" She ejaculated. We began to cookm something. The man who cooked for us robbed a bank and so Aunt Marjpore now had to do all of the cooking. This was an example of some of the adversity our family had to face.

"The eggs ar e symbolic of my ovaries." She said as she flung them into a bowl.

"The milk represents liberty." I told her as I poured it in.

"The butter milk is the milk of human kindness" said uncle Jakob from the bathroom.

"I will add oregano, as this will let everyone know that King Kong died for their sins." She said amiably.

"Did he really?" I asked in wide eyed wonderment.

"Yes. Twice." She admitted proudly.

"The fish paste shows the plight of Japanese Americans." I intoned as I added it.

"Grandma Melt controls the ponies!" Yelled Miguel from down on the street. I longed for a game of Grandma Melt controls the ponies, but I had to decide between my long time best friend and my sort-of-mom who was currently adding yeast and sugar.

I looked to the woman who had raised me from the age of two. It had been hard being raised by a toddler but these were hard times, and our family faced much adversity. She was adding some saltpeter now and it would soon be time to put the cake in the oven. I was very torn between loyalty to my Aunt-mom and to my friend Miguel.

"This will be the best cake we have ever made." I said.

"Yes, your holiness." She said mockingly.

"Miguel's family could not make such a cake." Said Jakob.

"I took away their fish paste. That is why." Aunt Julie said.

"I go to play with Miguel." I said.

"Be back before lunch time tomorrow or else it's another day in the snakepit." Aunt Julie ordained.

"Why, are we having cold pizza for lunch?" I asked lustily.

"For my special little girl, anything." Aunt Julie consented as she went to email the pizza manufacturer.

I slid down the railing of the spiral staircase and plowed into Miguel as I reached the bottom of the stairs.

"You are a Mexican." I told him.

"You are of French heritage." He said.

"There are barriers in the way of our meaningful relationship." I said with much sorrow.

"We will overcome them." He told me stoicly. And we did.

Later, he had to tell me something. But he did not want to tell me, because he was not sure that I would like what he was going to tell me. But he had to tell me anyways and what he told me was this.

"I am Jewish." He confessed.

"It is ok. I will go to your bris." I soothed.

"Our triumph over adversity is complete. I can now become a man. Perhaps I will grow a moustache." He mused.

"Tell me about it! I hate mustaches on myself." I said.

"They're so much fun though, everyone has one. Stalin, Hitler, Hussein" He said, trying to defend his choice feebly.

"I don't have bushy facial hair, nor is it black. I am only a boy" I said.

"That wouldn't work well on you anyhow." He said in a way that was almost accusing, but not bad enough to be accusing.

"You know, Mario had a moustache too." I shot back, my anger kindled.

"Oh yes, Mario was the worst of them all" He admitted.

"Because he killed so many innocent goombas?" I asked.

"Yes. Do you think Luigi will ever go to trial?" He enquired, having calmed down. In his words you could see that he was trying to apologize for his transgression and overcome a lot of adversity.

"I do not believe so. He has too many friends in high places. He also has refugee status in Borioboolaga." I said.

"You must read the newspaper." He constipated.

"Only on Tuesdays. That's when they talk about Luigia going to Africa." I coalesced.

"It must be frightening."

"Oh it is, very. But then you can fold the paper into a hat. It is a way to triumph over adversity." I admitted.

"Yes." He said.

That was the last time I would ever see Miguel alive.

Quote

I don't know about you but I have never advocated that homosexuals, for any reason, be cut out of their mother's womb and thrown into a bin.
- Deucaon toes a hard line on gay fetus rights.
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Posted 17 May 2005 - 09:06 PM

Bloody hell - if thats the guideline then we have a fairly serious nonsensicality level to reach - is the character a girl or a boy... what the heck is going on here - war criminal Mario, triumphing over adversity, side plots about Pedro and the ex con chef... why don't they all sit down to a hurried snack of frankinsense and myrrh while they're at it.
A few questions as to future plots if said word applies.
Can they triumph over adversity by realising that someone in the family is a cyborg a la Ash out of Alien?
Can the main character continue to switch between boy and girl as was done in this chapter?
Can the chronology be utterly flexible, and in fact to a greater or lesser extent the geography so if someone wanted to go to town owing to a stretch of geography it could evolve into a great chanson de trajet, while if they wanted to make an international, or even interstellar journey the destination could just be a sentence away?
Will the crimes of the Mario brothers be a continued plot thread?
Will the thing about the dictators continue in that all or most of the demonised modern figures are rendered harmless and popular while harmless and popular (like the Mario brothers) become demonised?
Heck funny, Jm.
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Posted 17 May 2005 - 09:06 PM

This will be the single greatest literary achievement of all time. I will be in as soon as I become intoxicated later this evening.

Edit: And you can do whatever the hell you want. The less coherent, the better.

This post has been edited by Slade: 17 May 2005 - 09:07 PM

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#7 User is offline   J m HofMarN Icon

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Posted 17 May 2005 - 09:19 PM

Really whatever you want to do. I wouldnt switch too frequently between races and genders but you can do that if you like. Some of the dialogue here was actually an AOL convo between me and Slade. You can use pretty much whatever you want but I would like each chapter to contain some drivel about triumphing over adversity and families and stuff. We have to keep it looking like a real novel so that if you just passed over it (as they certainly might) it will look legit. Other than that, the sky is the limit.

You can carry over elements from previous chapters and ignore some (like in Star Wars!) and feel absolutely free to change the characters or acta s though some of them don't exist or introduce new ones.

By the way, after remembering that some of us are, for lack of a better word, starving Ehtriopians, I have decided that I will use no less than half of the profits from this book to donate to forum members in need of cash. If there are any profits at all, that is. PA isn't known for giving out royalties.

This post has been edited by J m HofMarN: 17 May 2005 - 09:24 PM

Quote

I don't know about you but I have never advocated that homosexuals, for any reason, be cut out of their mother's womb and thrown into a bin.
- Deucaon toes a hard line on gay fetus rights.
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#8 User is offline   Slade Icon

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Posted 17 May 2005 - 10:16 PM

You're a gentleman and a scholar. I will write in just a moment.
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#9 User is offline   J m HofMarN Icon

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Posted 18 May 2005 - 05:34 AM

Thank ye your holiness. Oh, by the way, if possible try to include an instant messanger conversation in your chapter as dialogue. For instance, that bit about Hitler and Mario and Stalin is actually from some stuff me and Slade were jabbering about when he was drunk.

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I don't know about you but I have never advocated that homosexuals, for any reason, be cut out of their mother's womb and thrown into a bin.
- Deucaon toes a hard line on gay fetus rights.
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Posted 18 May 2005 - 01:18 PM

I also wrote a chapter whilst intoxicated. But with me, alcohol doesn't really affect the conversation (I talk about insane things regardless), it just increases their frequency. Here's my chapter, which is short because after I got that far I had to stop because I was commiting sacrilige on the grave of the English language and every word typed felt like it was caked in grime. Grime that rubbed off on my fingers of average length and description. I give you this gibberish I wrote while drunk as a chapter:

"I'll not give up until I am dead or am back in the warm embrace of Petunia!" I cried valiantly.

"Then I shall grind you into nothing more than a petty consumerist BMW dishwasher, Fred Denzington!" My arch nemesis cried, attempting to whip me in the face with his whip-like length of whipping rope.

"Your massage paloqurish ways will not triumph over my face of adversity." I triple-sau-chowed into a double toe-lutz and avoided his blow evilly.

"You don't mean...?!" He gasped.

"Yes, I have tapped into the powers of the Face of Adversity, you bollocky fish-face!" I laughed and took a shot of chocolate milk that was conveniently lying on the ground. Where my great great great Grandmama Melt left it for just this occasion. She was a seer and seamstrist, you know.

"Yes..." my nemisis, who's name was Chuck, preened. "But little do you know that I will always prevail, for I am the minority in the novel!"

"What? You mean you're black?" Denzington snarled brutishly.

"No, we have plenty of Africans. You're one, stupid. I'm the token alien from another dimension, sent to abduct you and send you into a weight loss program."

"But I don't need to lose weight!"

"I know! that's the beauty of it!" He cackled so much that a gaggle of crows at his face completely off, leaving just one eye socket intact.

"You... you monster!" I took a step backward and slapped myself to ensure that I was actually hearing what I had thought I'd heard. Suddenly, the world began to turn upside-down and inside out. I promptly vomited up all of my Stuart Townsend and began to run like the Dickens. That's Bobby Dickens, not Charles.

Upon returning from my trip, Denzington realized that he wasn't I and we made amends. That is to say we threw some bolts together, drew a smiley face on a television screen, had four pound pints, and called it "Amends the Robot."

"I think Amends is a good name for a robot." I said warmingly.

"I still say he should be named Bicuspids, but it's your damned television set, so we have to do what you say." Denzington exacerbated all over the carpet.

"Hey, you got to write the whole bleeding novel." I frowned.

"And you got all of the royalties, you freeloading bastard! En guarde!" He stood up and drew his foil.

"You do realize, this means war?" I asked, twirling my mustache and drawing my own foil out of more sturdy paper.

We clashed violently. We were of nigh equal skill, both adept in facing adversity and forming lasting relationships with members of the opposite sex, so many lamps were broken, but their lives were not lost in vain, for we eventually got bored and made milkshakes. Milkshakes of doom, which we gave to random passersby. And that's how we made enough money to afford Amends' rather costly drinking habits. But all was not well, because Madam Porvoue disliked the taste of sour cream and alcoholic androids, so she canceled our rent.

I became a great circus tamer and trained bears to ride unicycles while wearing tutus. Everyone threw beer cans at them, but I killed them all with my flinty-eyed stare, gained from drinking milkshakes of doom. Bears are people too, but some just can't understand that. It really makes me sad. If only bears could live in harmony with people.

But I digress. Fred Denzingtonne became the greatest failed adventurer in space, and slayed many space pirates and space ninjas, but eventually was killed by a space-pirate-ninja named Wooldoorf who ate toe-jam for breakfast because it did his body good.

Never to be one to cower in the face of adversity, Denzigtonet eventually weakened his immune system due to his case of cystic-fibrosis and killed the ninja-pirate with a heart attack during sexual intercourse with six tentacles. And the world rejoiced and everybody danced a merry jig and played Jenga until the cows came home, upon which they then milked thy cows and resumed their normal lives.

My normal life was an ex-pigmy ER technician who used to train circus bears and listen to Nine Inch Nails, but that didn't stop me from being a superhero that also did his own laundry. And fly. You can't forget that I flew in an airplane once. That was pretty cool, but not as cool as when I found President Lincoln's gold buried in the white house. And triumphed over the dreaded Face of Adversity, and bonded with my long-lost half-brother, half-sister.

Edit: Fixed internet formatting.

This post has been edited by Slade: 18 May 2005 - 01:20 PM

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Posted 18 May 2005 - 01:22 PM

Oh dear Eris, I apologize for that entire thing. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time when I just read that.
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#12 User is offline   J m HofMarN Icon

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Posted 18 May 2005 - 09:58 PM

Slade- Horrible work. Keep it up.

OK people come on. This book is going to be a lot of fun if we can all contribute and it's not as though its a big effort. I mean this is shit-lit here. Write anything you want, just write a good chapter, maybe five to ten pages. Slade and I are going to do most of the work on this anyhow but theres no way we can handle it alone. This is for a good cause so we have to move it.

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I don't know about you but I have never advocated that homosexuals, for any reason, be cut out of their mother's womb and thrown into a bin.
- Deucaon toes a hard line on gay fetus rights.
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Posted 18 May 2005 - 10:13 PM

I can only drink so much vodka in a certain amount of time...
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Posted 18 May 2005 - 10:18 PM

Come on people, the pope is drinking himself to death for you.

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I don't know about you but I have never advocated that homosexuals, for any reason, be cut out of their mother's womb and thrown into a bin.
- Deucaon toes a hard line on gay fetus rights.
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Posted 18 May 2005 - 11:47 PM

Chapter something: A most unexpected life

The woman who had the disease sat at her computer. She was wanting to write but she could not. She would be able to write later, after she met Aunt Marjpore, but at the moment she had not yet met Aunt Marjpore and so she could not write.

She was tall, about three feet and six inches, and comely as a statue from ancient Greece. She liked to sip iced tea, or long island iced tea, or strawberry daquirris. She was also a founding member of a sect of mormonism, and this was what she was writing for.

"The nation of mormon conscience hereby declares this to be a week of drinking and oblique fornication in honor of the honorable Elijah Muhammad's death." Perhaps later she would put in a bit about that foreign piece of party fuck who had accosted her. She felt very good as she continued the pamphlet. But where would she go from here ? Who would be there for her if she fell along the way? What day was it? She did not know, and it terrified her.

Her name was Virginia and she was married to aunt Marjpore now, after finally meeting him at the mormon convention. A wicked, wicked man named James Grant had hunted most of her friends down and tried to kill them, and they had escaped together in the back of a bus. A dialogue ensued on the back of the bus and they talked vuia aol instant messenger.

"Hello" She said.

"Hiya." Said James Grant.

Their eyes met and they soon fell deeply in love. So deeply they nearly drowned in the sultery sweet thickness of it. But they did not drown.

Their courtship was sultry and voluptuous. His sex drive was voracious like a lion starved of food for three days and then given a piece of venison to eat and starved for two more days and then poked with a cattle prod.

And then the lion jumped on a lamb but its trainers would not let it have the lamb but the lamb died of the injuries sustained in the attack and left behind three little lamblings. Lamblings probably isn't a word but the lion did not know that. All it knew was that it had tasted blood and must taste it again if it was to survive.

And so one night the lion escaped from its cage and went to the monkey house. It smelled of monkeys there and noone wanted to go there but children often came and mimicked the monkeys and made sounds like "oooh oooh aah aah" And they thought this was funny. But the lion did not think it was funny.

The lion was not in a mood to laugh. His name was Zimbabwe the lion and he was king of the jungle but he was a starving king with no courtiers to eat. Except the monkeys. He must break into their enclosure and eat them as they slept.

The lion crept into the pen over the fence which was monkey proof but not lion proof. It ate three monkeys that night but then got prodded with a cattle prod. The lion was unhappy and so he ate Aunt Julie and she was dead. Aunt Julie was a professional lion tamer while she yet lived.

But now she was dead and would be digested by the lion. The lion was happy because he was now full of her dark skinned flesh and he had a cattle prod to play with. He held it in his mouth between his molars which most lions do not have but this one did. He cattle prodded a pelican and then left it on the end table of the zoo's lounge.

The lion was bored by now and so he decided to leave the zoo and go out to make his way in the world. But there is much prejudice against escaped lions, and he would have to triumph over a great deal of adversity of he were going to make his living.

The lion did not know what sort of living he might make. Perhaps he would go to the aquarium. There he might acquire octopi. Then his next stop would be a hardware store where he could exchange one of the octopi for some duct tape. By this time the octopi would be dry enough to be taped to his head, so as to aid him in adopting the identity of Cthulu.

He began to look in the San Francisco Examiner to see what jobs there were for creatures made up by H. P. Lovecraft.

"Damn!" Cursed the lion. "All these listings for Nyarlahotep and not a one request for Cthulus! Perhaps this is not the best identity after all."

And so he adopted the identity of his dead care taker, Aunt Julie. He starred in a hilarious film called Weekend At Julie's and it's two unsucessful sequels. He was very stressed by all of this but this was an example of adversity and he had to triumph over it.

"This adversity is too much." He cried as he laid down on a bench.

Just then someone threw a dollar to him under the split second impression that he was a bum.

"Zounds!" Exculpated the lion. "Now I have enough money to pay the rent on my flat!" The lion said flat because he was an African lion and Africa was at one time colonized by Britain, and so the local wild life adopted some of the language. If the lion had come from the Dutch or French parts of Africa he would have had a French accent. Unless he had come from the Dutch part. Then he would have had a Russian accent accent.

This is because Russia is represented by a bear. Bears and lions are arch enemies and have been for at least three years, or since the end of the cold war, whichever comes first. The bears consider Russian to be their language, full of growls and backwards Rs. But the lions also like to speak many languages, for it aids them in their diplomacy when they are abroad.

The lions always distrusted the bears because bears lived not in jungles. Except for Balloo and you see how much he hated that lion he hung around with. And Ricky Ticky Tavee too. But Mostly the lion who was pretending to be a tiger but might have passed for a lion. So the dutch lions adopted Russian so they could run counter intelligence on Balloo, incase he tried to smuggle in any man-cubs. Man cubs are an introduced species and could be disastrous to Zimbabwe the lions habitat.

The lion suddenly saw two boys playing a game of Grandma Melt Controls The Ponies. Luckily they were not man cubs, or they would be disastrous for Habitat for humanity, which is a worthy charity. Their names were Miguel and Chris. However they were not the two boys already discussed, but a different set of boys playing the same game. Or were they? The lion did not know and it terrified him.

The lion ran away and continued its life as Aunt Julie. But would someone find out? These questions plagued the lion as it lay down to sleep. There was evidence. The habit of pouncing on grazing animals and severing their spinal column with a well placed bite to the neck was SO hard to break!

The lion worried also about the bones piling up in its cave. And the fact that it lived in a cave. Aunt Julie lived in a cave too but hers was bigger and had the words "Sub Way" written above its opening. This was just a regular cave. But the lion had tried to make it more homey.

Soon he would have to write subway over the mouth of the cave to throw off suspicious neighbors. And there was also the danger posed by his uncle Scar. Or is that another film. The lion did not know and it terrified him.

So, yeah, his sex drive was like the aforementioned lion, or something. Anyhow they got married.

This post has been edited by J m HofMarN: 19 May 2005 - 12:01 AM

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I don't know about you but I have never advocated that homosexuals, for any reason, be cut out of their mother's womb and thrown into a bin.
- Deucaon toes a hard line on gay fetus rights.
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