Silicon Investor (SI) -- The First Internet Community

STOCKTALK

We've detected that you're using an ad content blocking browser plug-in or feature. Ads provide a critical source of revenue to the continued operation of Silicon Investor. We ask that you disable ad blocking while on Silicon Investor in the best interests of our community. If you are not using an ad blocker but are still receiving this message, make sure your browser's tracking protection is set to the 'standard' level.

Pastimes : Don't Ask Rambi -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Rambi who wrote (21786)	4/14/1999 9:32:00 PM
From: Ish	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 71178

I'll be there. I did shoot a perfect round of skeet with my duck gun. Never could do it with my $1,600 skeet gun. Haven't shot a gun in over a year. Last time was to protect a friend from some gang people. Amazing how a .44Mag gets attention even when it misses. Uh, maybe I'll buy the fish. I have some friends who raise them. I never catch fish, I leave the hook protecters on. Less cleaning that way. I park the boat and lay down in the sun and ZZZZZZZZZZZ. Beats watching the market.

To: Rambi who wrote (21786)	4/14/1999 11:36:00 PM
From: IceShark	Respond to of 71178

My Dear Rambi, what you hit is the little clay pigeon. -g- Regards, Ice

To: Rambi who wrote (21786)	4/15/1999 1:04:00 AM
From: Ilaine	Read Replies (3) \| Respond to of 71178

Dear Rambi, Last night I dreamed that I was recruited by a couple of muses to act as a sort of auxiliary muse. As is my wont, I agreed, without knowing exactly what I was agreeing to, figuring I could make it up as I went along. But, before I had a chance to be oriented, or debriefed, or whatever training it is that auxiliary muses get, a gentleman (would you call him a patron? a client? what is the relationship if I am the muse and he is the bemused?) showed up at my atelier. Well, not exactly "showed up," I looked up and there he was sort of in the ceiling, painting a large, allegorical painting that included the River Nile. I could see him but he couldn't see me, and I could tell that he was getting sleepy, he kept missing spots with his brush. He dozed off, and I picked up his brush and filled in the spots on the river that he had missed, and just for fun, painted his feet blue, too. When he woke up in the morning, he still couldn't see me, and he was very vexed that he had no clothes on. I loaned him some of mine (teeshirt and sweatpants) and he hustled out as if he knew where he was going. Wonder if he'll show up again tonight? He was sort of burley, barrel-chested, and had a dark beard, reminded me of William Blake.