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Knight to queen's bishop 3 - Snowden charged with espionage.
Shades:
Brilliant, Tomos :Thmbsup:
IainB:
^ So just think what it will be like if they ever find intelligent life on this planet.
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-Vurbal (March 14, 2014, 10:36 AM)
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There is intelligent life on this planet, but I'm just passing through... ;)
Vurbal:
^ So just think what it will be like if they ever find intelligent life on this planet.
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-Vurbal (March 14, 2014, 10:36 AM)
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There is intelligent life on this planet, but I'm just passing through... ;)
-IainB (March 14, 2014, 10:14 PM)
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You might want to go around instead. It gets pretty hot toward the center. :P
TaoPhoenix:
Sadly if the US government wasn't wasting so much time peeking in our backyards and panty drawers, they'd of had time to grab a few shots of the rest of the planet and we'd know where that Malaysian plane went.
News flash for the NSA: The plane isn't on friggin FaceBook ... So zip up your flies, go out side, and do some real work for a change.
-Stoic Joker (March 14, 2014, 07:11 AM)
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From another angle, I'm wondering why in this era of "everyone online", that if there started to be trouble, *why no one got a digital communication off*. 239 people and no one managed to tweet something?! How about just someone's phone syncing email? Wouldn't that produce a ping on the cell tower?
And does anyone else smell a bad TV movie coming?
>:(
IainB:
...You might want to go around instead. It gets pretty hot toward the center. :P
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-Vurbal (March 14, 2014, 10:46 PM)
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Heh. Do you know this from first-hand experience?
Your amusing comment just reminded me of a story told me by a Welsh computer salesman some years ago:
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The English salesman in Cardiff.
An English computer salesman from London was attending a 4-day sales convention in Cardiff (Wales) towards the beginning of Winter.
He drove there by car, checked-in to his pre-booked hotel, and attended the conference each day, usually ending up each evening in a local pub, after dinner, where he would drink solidly at the bar until closing time, and then go to bed.
On the evening of the third day of the convention, he was in the pub, and was talking with the Welsh barman, complaining bitterly about the weather. It had rained incessantly for the 3 days whilst he had been there so far.
"I tell you," he said, "it had been fine when I left England, a crisp Winter's day, but it started to rain as soon as I got across the ruddy border into Wales, and it hasn't f###ing stopped. It rained all during the drive to Cardiff, and by the time I got to my hotel it was f###ing bucketing down. The first night the noise of the heavy rain f###ing drumming against the window of my hotel room ensured that I didn't get much bloody sleep. It was raining at breakfast time the next morning, it was bloody raining all during the convention that day, so we didn't get out to see some of the historical sights around Cardiff that had been planned. It was still pissing down whilst I was having dinner that evening, and when I came over to this pub after dinner it was f###ing bucketing down again.
Now I wouldn't mind, if it had been just the one day, but it's gone on for three f###ing days solid now without letup. Rain, f###ing rain, f###ing rain. Easing off to a fine drizzle for a few hours would have been nice - I could have enjoyed the brief respite - but no, it's just been f###ing bucketing down and bucketing down all the f###ing time and I tell you I'm f###ing fed up with it. I've had enough. I'd have f###ing gone home today if I could have, just to get out of this f###ing waterlogged hole, but I can't you see, because I've got to f###ing well stick around to the bitter end of this sales convention as I am the main sales rep for my company, and I have to make a speech tomorrow, so I can't f###ing leave until after that.
I'd never been to Cardiff before this week. If I'd known what a f###ing waterlogged s##thole it was I would never have f###ing come. This place has to be the f###ing arsehole - the bloody rectum - of the world, I f###ing kid you not."
At this point, he put his pint glass to his lips and took a long, slow drink of the amber liquid. The bar had gone silent, and the several local Welshmen drinking nearby who had been listening intently to his diatribe against the weather were looking curiously at him. One of them, who was sat just a couple of bar stools away from the salesman, turned towards him and enquired, "Oh yes, just passing through are you?"
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