speaking of Military stuff. My uncle helped devolpe the first "rail gun" which is basically a mini MAC cannon. It was tested at Dahlgren naval base in Va.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I wondered, weak and weary, If the Rooster Teeth podcast, would not be uploaded any more, and if not, surely it had not been posted so late before — While I waited, nearly for nought, suddenly there came a thought, As of some one gently pushing, an idea into my mind's door. "'He must be working," I muttered, "cutting and editing like so many times before — Only this and nothing more."
Presently this thought grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Gus," wrote I, "Mr. Sorola, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was refreshing, and no podcast have been unwrapping, And no mention you've had of lacking, a podcast this week unlike before, That I scarce was sure it was on wednesdays" – here I F5'd the page like before; —— Last week's there and nothing more.
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! – prophet still, if wizard or devil! — Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted — On this page by Horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore — Is there – is there a podcast this week? – tell me – tell me, I implore!" Last week's there and nothing more.
"Be that word our sign of parting, mean wizard!" I shrieked, upstarting — "Give me the dose of podcast I lack on this night of lore! Post the audio as a token of that promise thy soul hath spoken! Let this silence be unbroken! – throw this podcast from out your bosoms core! Take thy staff from out my heart, and post this podcast, like before!" Last week's there and nothing more.
And here I am sitting, never flitting, stil am sitting. On the flat throne of wood, here upon my chamber floor. And my eyes have all the seeming, of a nightmare; I must be dreaming, And the screen-light on the desk throws my shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted - nevermore..........
I understand what Gav was talking about when you can "Kill yourself" by thinking about it. Its called ADS (or something similar) It is basically giving up on living and your body shuts down and you die, even when your perfectly healthy.
On the subject of video game hoarding, after I unlocked all of the garages in GTA: Vice City, I filled every one of them with yellow Comets (the Porsche)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4OqlTXwLG40
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
If the Rooster Teeth podcast, would not be uploaded any more,
and if not, surely it had not been posted so late before —
While I waited, nearly for nought, suddenly there came a thought,
As of some one gently pushing, an idea into my mind's door.
"'He must be working," I muttered, "cutting and editing like so many times before —
Only this and nothing more."
Presently this thought grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Gus," wrote I, "Mr. Sorola, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was refreshing, and no podcast have been unwrapping,
And no mention you've had of lacking, a podcast this week unlike before,
That I scarce was sure it was on wednesdays" – here I F5'd the page like before; ——
Last week's there and nothing more.
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! – prophet still, if wizard or devil! —
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted —
On this page by Horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore —
Is there – is there a podcast this week? – tell me – tell me, I implore!"
Last week's there and nothing more.
"Be that word our sign of parting, mean wizard!" I shrieked, upstarting —
"Give me the dose of podcast I lack on this night of lore!
Post the audio as a token of that promise thy soul hath spoken!
Let this silence be unbroken! – throw this podcast from out your bosoms core!
Take thy staff from out my heart, and post this podcast, like before!"
Last week's there and nothing more.
And here I am sitting, never flitting, stil am sitting.
On the flat throne of wood, here upon my chamber floor.
And my eyes have all the seeming, of a nightmare; I must be dreaming,
And the screen-light on the desk throws my shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore..........
Sorry pet peeve :)
Podcast ends thirty minutes later. Lol.
*Podcast continues for another 30 minutes*