In the sum of all things, as Velencia de Capriano once said, the only thing that really matters, is matter.

And he should know. He was my best friend, back in the Amazon, when the pigmies were hunting us down and carving their names on our other-regions. He saved my life many a time. And THAT'S what matters!

addendem: poor guy didn't make it out of the Amazon to rectify my story. But I never lie. I am a man of honor. There are only 3 things in this world that matter: honor, character, and matter.

Visionquest can't hang out in this thread with a bunch of cowards. Visionquest is going to go over to Off Topic forum where the real warrior posters are. The next thread I start will be the most monsterish thread ever. (even though all of you cowards know that I hold the record for longest thread ever)

Please help me to forgive Estee for starting this thread. I don't want to minimize what she's gone through on these forums, even though her outburst could be construed as disrespectful. I plan to go out on the forums without guidelines or spam filters or profanity filters of any kind and meditate on the message board experience. That was how my forefathers moderated, and I am the blogger slayer. I will not post warnings, I will meditate on them the way that was done in the past. It will be completely awesome.

Actually, I am glad that Estee spoke out the way she did. Since she is not a warrior, I can be the last of the Timbira in the game. I will be the last of the original Timbira. You know, I wouldn't have won that last immunity challenge if I had steak or beer. Since I am a mutant, normal human food would have contaminated the temple that it my body and caused me such spasms of digestion and excretion that I would have been forced to prove to the entire world that I am indeed full of crap. I will not say any more on this subject.

But since I am done talking and want to make sure that my fifteen minutes extends not only into everyone else's fifteen minutes but into the very fiber that is our universe, I will recite a poem. This recitation will, of course, be a meditation, which means that the unenlightened will not hear anything.

*crickets*

awesome poem, Bebo. Absolutely awesome!

Oh, Bebo, umm, Coach, Wow, no one in this universe could have put that into better form. Thank you for those truly God-given psalms of praise! I, am, elightened.

I hope this thread will inspire all of you to be better people and make something out of your dreary, humdrum little lives. However many pebbles the Creator chooses to drop on me, I remain unpocked, undented, unwashed, unhinged, unassailable, undoubtable. Period, paragraph, question mark, air quote. As Yoda said to Jesus in the Bible, "When 37 years old you are, look so good you will not."

Stephen will receive the full fury of my black knee socks at final TC.

As a soon-to-be 37yr old, I can tell you that Yoda wasn't kidding.........

Man! He's the oldest looking 37 year old I've ever seen!!!!

I cannot even compete with you "cowards" so I won't even try - to "talk like Coach" I mean! You are all AWESOME!!!! And much more so than Ben THINKS he is!

Not that I have an opinion one way or another ;)
Signature by tribephyl

Coac hWade is the Dragon Slayer. Coach Wade is honorable. Coach Wade is a monk. Coach Wade...Coach Wade...Coach Wade...Coach Wade...

**everyone slowly walks away**

Coach Wade...

Aw, shucks.

Coach, Wayne, Coach. Not JT

Wul, shee-yoot. I cain't'ne'er git deez here board threads a ruight.

LAST EDITED ON 05-18-09 AT 09:13 AM (EST)

This posts reminds me of the time I was in the Congo, when I had to mimic the to actions, sounds, and mating rituals of a silverback gorilla to escape the wrath of an angry soccer mom who's tenacious warrior qualities persued me to the ends of the earth to regain playing time for her son.

LAST EDITED ON 05-18-09 AT 09:18 AM (EST)

Ha, Coach Slayer did take a lie detector test and Coach Slayer answered every question the way Coach Slayer said he would, so there! Eat your hat.

ARRRRRRR!!!!

when I was, maybe 6 or 7 years old, and I had to walk uphill, at least TEN FULL KILO's (or more, since you little people aren't so good at converting) in the snow, with no shoes on, a blizzard looming, an avalanche on the horizon, to a one room school-house?

When I got there, I was the only one with a tiny, shattered, little coat, that my mamma made. It was of many colors, made from scraps-Dolly, that was my mom's name. Yes, she loved that coat of many colors, if I can recall. She sang about it often. I hated that song! Anyway, I was so honorable, and so humbled by my experience, I neither ate nor drank a thing all day. Nor did I sit next to the little crackling fire that our teacher, Mrs. Jones, had asked me to make to warm all the other children. I could do without. I was the dragonette slayer even back then.

At the end of the day, through eyes of kindness and unending love, I reached for that little coat of many colors from the rack on the wooden-log cabin wall. And I couldn't do it. I could NOT put that coat upon my frozen body. I had to give it to the little girl who was hovering in the corner, crying frozen tears of shame. For she had no coat, no jacket, not even the skin of a cat to put upon her tiny little frame.

"Sierra", I said, "Here. You take this!" And I handed her my coat. I knew in my heart it was the most valiant thing I could do at that time. Looking up at me with those big, blue eyes, and that beaky, little nose, Sierra took my jacket.

Later, I saw her give it to her boyfriend, one of the slimiest boys on the football team EVER!! He wrapped the two of them in it-MY COAT-and on they went, down the hill, in a shiny new sled! To this day, I will never love again. Never will I speak that name without spitting, choaking, and screaming, " DRAGON SLAYER WILL BE BACK!!!"

And that, my friends, is why I am missing my left 4th toe.