September 14, 2004

• You had me on 'stimulating wires'.
• One way or another, this is coming. Er...
• While Dr. Stuart Meloy was putting an electrode into the woman's spine (...) Dr Meloy or Æon Flux's Trevor Goodchild ?
• Something smaller than a pack of cigarettes is still pretty darn big when you want to sit on it.
• *sneaks a look lapward, considers cigar joke, runs*
• This article is three years old. Did anything ever make it to the market?
• There are so many filthy jokes I can make in response to tracicle's post...
• the latest story, from march of this year, says it's still in clinical trials
• Maybe I'm old fashioned, but I still prefer the traditional method.
• Researchers have begun to fear that experimental subjects are "faking it". "Aw, heck," said one of the guinea pigs, "the guys just look so disappointed when nothing happens, and then they sulk all day afterwards. Not that it isn't genuine with me, of course." Dr Meloy says he has begun to doubt whether his current device is really "large enough" to produce the required effect.
• This entire controversy could be solved if most men would only take the time and learn how to find the little lady in the boat.
• Tell us more of this peculiar nautical female, I pray.
• I am intrigued by this floating dwarven madam. Upon which seas does she sail?
• Ah, my canoe-bound beauty! Would that I could sail beside you, oh miniscule milady!
• Yours, Capt. Clint Tickler RN.
• Ahoy! Methinks the Kid hast a true Sextant, and 'lo has bespied our secretive skiff-bound Susie!
• Truly, my heart is lost to this stunted sea-siren, this luscious lake-sailing Lilliputian lass.
• Wherefore art thou, my tiny lady of the sea? I am sure you seek mine own tiny seaman.
• Nay, Nostril! This short, sea-loving Belle will taste the salty foam-spray of MY love-tsunami - but never that of a common pirate!
• And yet, one needn't wander, like Odysseus of old, searching vainly for a verdant unattainable shore! Tie thyself to thine Mainmast and brave that tumultuous fragrant sea, delve amongst each wave and whitecap, and sure ye shall find that missing Mariness, who sings so sweetly, and be rewarded with treasures that too long have lain buried and forgotten.
• Never, Fes - take your pirate
• Seaman Nostril! Captain Tickler! Release thine sabres against thy comrade not! For tho p'raps the leeward lass is shy, legion is her number. Each swabby who seeketh shall find. A word to the wise, however: eschew thee the poopdeck, save for unless commanded forth. To assume to step upon that deck, even lightly, without leave will without delay cause thy hard-sought maiden to depart from thee, ne'er to return.
• WHAT? Many are such mer-maids, you say? Yet - none dig anal? Fuck that, I am in the Navy fer chissakes.
• Exactly! Our dispute is at an end. Or the end, if you prefer. quid & nostril, fore & aft. Heave-ho!
• Ah, the Navy, the last bastion of brotherly love amongst the soldiery, where once the Templars pairbonded with aplomb, and the dervish sought pleasures amongst his fellows when the fire were banked for the eventide. New clarity infuses thy willingness to swab the stern. And while I would be loathe to say that *none* seek a southerly satisfaction, methinks the Forum of the House of Pent hast long promulgated the opposite rumour, which the doughty sailor, starved for news from afar, hath latched onto with ill-concealed glee.
• Methinks we've once more sailed our thread off topic. Does anyone have a map?
• If one taketh fore and one taketh aft, p'raps ye shall find a third knave, for the Devil to pay and thus complete the triumvirate. But looketh at me not in that manner, my fellows! I hold to the ancient code of "one swain, one siren." If there be a map, my good Quidnunc, this conversation would have never taken place. Alas, only the intrepid explorer, sans map, compass and guide, may plumb the shore and finds the prize.
• There is a map, tis made out in fine hairs. It be in t' shape of Tasmania, so it be.
• Tasmania, eh? I have heard tales of a whirling beast of great ferocity who dwelleth there, whom to arouse guarantees the waker a spirited ride!
• Aye!!!!!
• Now, fuck me up the arse and call me Nora!!!! Gently, lad!!
• You've been listening to "The Good Ship Monkeyfilter" by Seaman Staines. Tune in next week, when a discussion about Linux goes horribly awry and descends into a rememberance of my most painful boils and abscesses.
• ... during which the hitherto unused "great white wail" reference is almost certain to be employed.
• Hey - is it Talk like a Pirate day already?
• I'm talking like a post-colonial ur-Dickensian neo-Vicky. There's no specific day for it, so far as I know. But for degenerate monsters who love the hyphen? There's no better tongue.
• I just want to say that I'd settle for an actual packet of cigarettes being implanted in my buttocks. For, you know, emergencies.
• Monkeyfilter: Beware the loose-tongued pirates. Arrrhh!
• oh, dear. No volunteers for orgasm implant Dr Stuart Meloy, from North Carolina, told New Scientist: "I thought people would be beating my door down." heh.
• *dies*
• Poor Tracicle. Over-come by le petite mort. *snicker Oh, no. I didn't really read all those naughty comments. *GramMa lies with a straight face. Then blushes.
• I really enjoyed the comments in this thread. That is all.
• le petite mort. *dies a little, unhappy at obvious mismatch of gender, adjective, and noun*
• OHMYGOD! Fes, quid and Nostril are my new HERO's! It's like....I couldn't turn the pages fast enough! Now I'm all....oh...never mind.
• Good sex really is mind-blowing for women.
• "Men were studied in the same way, but because it typically took only 20 seconds to reach ejaculation, it was difficult for neuroscientists to obtain and interpret data."
• "A major problem was they got cold feet, so they put socks on," he added. Only to have them knocked off again, one hopes.
• Wolof, you're upset with my poor French in this (somewhat) tacky thread? Then you deserve to die! *wacks Wolof with a loaf of stale French bread