03-06-2007, 06:20 PM | #31 |
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Anyone ever see those films of harvest time in Africa where the rats are hopping around in the grain fields like locusts? They trap them in gunny (sp?)sacks and then drown them and then after the harvest is done spear them with spits and roast them hair tail and all over hot coals. The fur burns off, the tails curl up to inconsequence, and the skin gets crispy; then they pull the succulant breast meat off the rib cage and eat it. I saw a documentary about this once. It's absolutely true.
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03-06-2007, 06:34 PM | #32 | |
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07-20-2007, 04:38 AM | #33 |
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This is an entertaining article.
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/07/20/wo...=5070&emc=eta1 "Mr. Harda and three deputies strode through these lanes like Ghostbusters, cages in hand, nodding at passers-by for whom their arrival is a daily reassurance. They stopped at food warehouses full of sacks of rice, sugar and lentils. Many had installed cages the day before and found a specimen or two. Mr. Harda gathered the catches into a single, swarming cage. By 10:05 a.m., they had two full cages in custody. Now the rats had to die. The cages were dipped one by one into a bucket, but the bucket was too short and many of the rats managed to keep their noses above the water level. When the cage was restored to dry ground, the rats patiently rearranged their fur as if nothing had happened. But Mr. Harda had an alternative plan, which was not subtle or hygienic but was terrifyingly effective. One of his deputies plucked the rats from the cage one by one and, with the vigor of a Whack-a-Mole player, slammed each one onto the ground. The rat would convulse with shock, then suddenly go still. In some cases, its limbs would gyrate, Elvis-like, for a final few seconds. A few especially resilient souls briefly resurrected themselves to make a last, death-defying jump. And then they, too, died. The men killed 26 rats in five minutes. Afterward, a small fraction would be sent to a laboratory to be tested for bubonic plague."
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Interrupt all you like. We're involved in a complicated story here, and not everything is quite what it seems to be. —Paul Auster |
07-20-2007, 04:54 AM | #34 | |
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03-26-2008, 05:33 PM | #35 |
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A few days ago my wife was sitting in the New Orleans air port and a great big rat ran by in front of her.
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Interrupt all you like. We're involved in a complicated story here, and not everything is quite what it seems to be. —Paul Auster |
03-26-2008, 05:41 PM | #36 |
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When I was a little kid, I was pretty lonely and didnt have many friends (not much has changed as an adult...). Anyway, I was getting bullied an awful lot and having a miserable time.
Out of the blue, I became friends with this really cool rat who would hang out with me and cheer me up when I was sad. After awhile, the rat started big-timing me and telling me what to do. His rat friends started lashing out at me and it wasnt so much fun to hang with them anymore. The cops had to get involved and they wiped out all the rats, but my friend survived. I wrote a song about him, but I am too embarassed to sing it for you here.
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03-26-2008, 06:33 PM | #37 | |
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My wife and I had mice in our house this winter. One mouse in particular kept freaking out my wife by coming into our upstairs family room and looking at her before running off. One night he did this while I was home. I went downstairs and got my long tongs I use for grilling in the summer. I then tried to corner the mouse, it made a run for it and I caught it with the tongs. I took it outside and stepped on it. The other mouse hung out in our pantry. My wife was screaming about him one night and I put on ski gloves, went into the pantry, caught him with my gloved hand and, as he tried to bite me I crushed him by making a fist. Stupid mice. They should have gone into the gay dude's house next door. I guarantee their crushing deaths wouldn't have happened there.
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