I am a creator, writing like the wind, I carry the weight of a future world in the barrel of a pen, etching my characters into the paper with life giving ink so my dreams and reality might finally meet.
It is, after all, far too easy to pinch and kick the bizarre Mormon Church; to say it's ripe for satire and parody is to say a Catholic schoolgirl is ripe for debauchery. It's like shooting polygamist fish in a barrel of coffee.
Over the centuries, mankind has tried many ways of combating the forces of evil... prayer, fasting, good works and so on. Up until Doom, no one seemed to have thought about the double-barrel shotgun. Eat leaden death, demon.
Online advertising may not be much more successful than an old double-barrel, but - like a good spray of buckshot - it makes up for its lack of accuracy with sheer volume. There are 10 unique ads listed with every Gmail message in your queue, each ti...
I have a feeling that about 90% of my life has been shaped by my voice, both as an embarrassment and as an advantage. There was always the terrible incongruity of this deep voice barreling out of this little body. Somewhere in the back of my mind I w...
Europe and North America, we are told, are less dependent on energy-intensive heavy industry than in the 1960s and 1970s. It seems we squeeze more GDP out of a barrel of oil than in those benighted days.
Yet, if we accept the solution offered today by this bill to explore and develop for oil on the coastal plain of ANWR, it will be 5 years, at least, and probably closer to 8 before the first barrel of oil flows from that effort.
Gary: Shotguns? What, like guns that fire shot? Barry the Baptist: Oh, you must be the brains of the operation. Yes, guns that fire shot.
Nick the Greek: Just get me a sample. Tom: No can do. Nick the Greek: What's that? Some place near Katmandu? Meet me halfway, mate.
Gary: I've just spent 120 quid on me hair. If you think I'm puttin a stockin over me head you're very much mistaken.
Tom: Look, it's all completely chicken soup. Nick the Greek: It's what? Tom: It's kosher. As Christmas. Nick the Greek: The Jews don't celebrate Christmas, Tom.
Rory Breaker: Your stupidity may be your one saving grace. Nick the Greek: Uuugh? Rory Breaker: Don't "uuugh" me, Greek boy!
Barry the Baptist: [Barry's video monitor is cutting out] Come on! Not now, please, not... [monitor goes black] Barry the Baptist: Oh, you fucking bastard.
Rory Breaker: We're gonna do a proper decoration job. I want the grey skies of London illuminated. I want that house painted red.
Mickey: How'd you think I'm doing? He's fucking nearly chopped my arm off. [after being attacked by Willie with a machete]
Mayor: The King of Halloween has been blown to smithereens! Skeleton Jack is now a pile of dust! Lock, Shock, Barrel: Pile of dust! Pile of dust! Skeleton Jack is a pile of dust!
Shock: [singing] I wish my cohorts weren't so dumb. Barrel: *I'm* not the dumb one. Lock: You're no fun! Shock: Shut up! Lock: Make me!
Lock, Shock, Barrel: [singing] Kidnap the Sandy Claws, / beat him with a stick, / lock him up for ninety years, / see what makes him tick.
Kabul is a walled city, which sounds romantic except the walls are pre-cast reinforced concrete blast barriers, 10 feet tall and 15 feet long and moved into place with cranes. The walls are topped with sandbags, and the sandbags are topped with guard...
Each one of us is left to choose our own quality of life and take pleasure where we find it with the understanding that, like Mom used to say, sooner or later something's gonna get you.
No sooner had the thought occurred to him than he found himself staring down the barrel of a single-shot caplock pistol, and halted in his tracks. It was not a particularly accurate weapon if he remembered correctly, not that it would matter at point...
