It's Sunday and I'm Bored
 

Anyone for an argument?

Why not?
 

You fucking cunt!

Re: It's Sunday and I'm Bored
 

If you work for the state in some capacity, I'll start drinking some beer to get primed.

Smile when you say that. Remember what the late great Sam Kinnasan always said.

"Women got half the money and all the pussy, and with all the pussy, they can get the rest of the money."

No, I do not work for the State. I work for an answering service, one of the few left with actual human operators. But for arguments sake, why should being a state worker be a handicap, I mean someone's got to hold those flags and lean on all those shovels during road construction. And after all, sleeping on the job is probably covered under the Americans with disabilities act. Someone's gotta employee all thos narcaleptics out there.

I have developed a taste for arguing with state cops or other law enforcement officials, that I happen to be related to. In your case I'll make some exceptions.

Care to make some bold generalizations about people that choose to sleep with handguns, to kick off the argument?

Re: Why not?
 

Derek and Clive fan?

You mean there are people who don't?

Well if you don't sleep with a handgun, how do you get sexual gratification??

Wolf and Bruce: shotguns.

Only if the Homeland Security Threat level goes to orange or higher.

There's a "splatter pattern" joke here that I'm far too cultured to mention.

but not too much to hint at

ahhh, the classic argument, Monty Python, gotta love'em!
 

The Four Yorkshiremen

Eric Idle: Very fussable, isn't it? Very fussable.

All: Right, all right.

Graham Chapman: Good glass of Chƒteau de Chasselas, ain't just that, sire?

Terry Jones: Oh, you're right there, Obadiah.

Graham Chapman: Right.

Eric Idle: Who would have thought, thirty years ago, we'd all be sitting here drinking Chateau de Chaselet, eh?

All: Aye, aye.

Michael Palin: Them days we were glad to have the price of a cup of tea.

Graham Chapman: Right! A cup of cold tea!

Michael Palin: Right!

Eric Idle: Without milk or sugar!

Terry Jones: Or tea!

Michael Palin: In a cracked cup and all.

Eric Idle: Oh, we never used to have a cup! We used to have to drink out of a rolled-up newspaper!

Graham Chapman: The best we could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth.

Terry Jones: But you know, we were happy in those days, although we were poor.

Michael Palin: Because we were poor!

Terry Jones: Right!

Michael Palin: My old dad used to say to me: "Money doesn't bring you happiness, son!"

Eric Idle: He was right!

Michael Palin: Right!

Eric Idle: I was happier then and I had nothing! We used to live in this tiny old tumbled-down house with great big holes in the roof.

Graham Chapman: House! You were lucky to live in a house! We used to live in one room, all twentysix of us, no furniture, half the floor was missing, we were all huddled together in one corner for fear of falling.

Terry Jones: You were lucky to have a room! We used to have to live in the corridor!

Michael Palin: Oh, we used to dream of living in a corridor! Would have been a palace to us! We used to live in an old watertank on a rubbish tip. We'd all woke up every morning by having a load of rotten fish dumped all over us! House, huh!

Eric Idle: Well, when I say a house, it was just a hole in the ground, covered by a sheet of tarpaulin, but it was a house to us!

Graham Chapman: We were evicted from our hole in the ground. We had to go and live in a lake!

Terry Jones: You were lucky to have a lake! There were 150 of us living in a shoebox in the middle of the road!

Michael Palin: A cardboard box?

Terry Jones: Aye!

Michael Palin: You were lucky! We lived for three months in a rolled-up newspaper in a septic tank! We used to have to go up every morning, at six o'clock and clean the newspaper, go to work down the mill, fourteen hours a day, week in, week out, for six pence a week, and when we got home, our dad would slash us to sleep with his belt!

Graham Chapman: Luxury! We used to have to get up out of the lake at three o'clock in the morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of hot grubble, work twenty hours a day at mill, for two pence a month, come home, and dad would beat us around the head and neck with a broken bottle, if we were lucky!

Terry Jones: Well, of course, we had it tough! We used to have to get up out of the shoebox in the middle of the night, and lick the road clean with our tongues! We had to eat half a handful of freezing cold grubble, work twenty-four hours a day at mill for four pence every six years, and when we got home, our dad would slice us in two with a breadknife!

Eric Idle: Right! I had to get up in the morning, at ten o'clock at night, half an hour before I went to bed, eat a lump of cold poison, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill and pay millowner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our dad would kill us and dance about on our graves, singing Hallelujah!

Michael Palin: Aah. Are you trying to tell the young people of today that, and they won't believe you!

All: No, no they won't!