Ramicus

stop kissing all the boys and you'll be fine
 
prolly

If there are any other yiddin here, ah freilichen Chanuka.

All you non-Jews, I get eight nights of presents.

If there are any other yiddin here, ah freilichen Chanuka.

All you non-Jews, I get eight nights of presents.

If there are any other yiddin here, ah freilichen Chanuka.

All you non-Jews, I get eight nights of presents.

Austin, did you not consider that I chatted with him first?
 
Anyway, you're welcome.

Ever since my son got Victor (official name of the toy that the company gave to him) it has been his favourite toy, and every time I see that creature I think off our own Alfie.
 
I figured we could also play that game the other way around. Every time you see Victor now I want you to picture him like this:
 
 
Meet Victor:
 

This is Vicky though (named Victoria)

 
Or Victor during weekends ofcourse.

Daniel Craig is not a good Bond. He plays a decent Bond, to be sure. The series has lost some of its wit and light-heartedness, but he does a fairly good job. He just doesn’t look the part.
 
Furthermore, the redo has weakened Bond too much. Old Bond stops the guy on the train long before Moneypenny needs to shoot him. Old Bond is able to stop himself from going into cardiac arrest, and doesn’t need a Bond Girl to come out and save him. Old Bond doesn’t make bad movies (I’m looking at you, Quantum of Solace).
 
The best Bond was Brosnan. Connery tends to win these arguments because he was first, but Brosnan had the wit needed to play the character. Brosnan’s Bond was perfect, in that he didn’t have very many flaws, and that’s as it should be. Look at the scene in China in Die Another Day. He knew about the surveillance behind the screen. Craig’s Bond would have slept with the masseuse, who would have pointed a gun at his head and brought in support, forcing him to fight his way out.
 
In conclusion, Bond is Bond. He’s a superhero without superpowers. He’s barely human, but the pinnacle of humanity.

Cuz

VHL related because I'm recommending it to y'all.

It's called the Art of Racing in the Rain. It's about a dog. He belongs to a very nice man. The very nice man gets married. The very nice man and his new wife have a baby. The dog's name is Enzo. The very nice man is named Eve. Their daughter is Zoé. I don't think that's the right accent.

At this point I just need to talk to 150. Seriously, it's a great book. I've read it twice, I cry at the end. I'm not usually am emotional person, especially not while reading for school, which is why I read it originally. I suppose I should give a shoutout to my eleventh grade English teacher, Mrs. Daniela Rosenblatt. She might spell it with two l's, I'm not sure.

Seriously, though. Read it. I finished it while givingblood today, and the people thought something was wrong.

Also, shoutout to Mook because he's Mook.

Skates on the Ground:
J’accuse!
or
Shots You Take

 
The General had had a thought. He had liked his new thought. He had given his friend Fedir Okranitz a hug and had gone to beat up another hockey player. Then the time had come for George “The General” Patton to fight the good fight.  The game, and therefore the season, came to an end, and the time came for him to do just what the goalie had said. He had boarded a plane, and here he was in…

France. Mr. Patton landed at Aéroport de Paris-Charles-de-Gaulle (Paris’s Charles de Gaulle airport for those of you who speak the proper language). The General had never been to France. He did not want to be in France now. It was not as bad as a place as, say, Luxembourg, but that did not make him a fan of the baguette eating, beret wearing, French speaking idiots. Unfortunately for George “The General” Patton, he had stuck his finger randomly on a list of destinations, and he had ended up here. He wasn’t happy about it.

Luckily for him, he had things to do instead of being angry at the lazy, unshaven wine drinkers. He went to the Eiffel Tower, where he spent over nine dollars to climb as high as he could go. What a joke, he thought to himself. It doesn’t cost anything to climb the Washington Monument. Stupid French. Nevertheless, he had his bullhorn, and this was his unfortunate location.
 
“People of Paris! HYDRA exists! They—“ George “The General” Patton was interrupted by a fellow owner of bullhorn from below.

“You stupid American! We do not speak your stupid language! This is not stupid Romania!” This left George “The General” Patton with many questions. First of all, he was yelling at him in English that he didn’t speak English. Second, why was Romania stupid? The General had never met anyone from Romania, so he wasn’t going to judge just yet. Third, Americans, by virtue of being Americans, were not stupid. And finally, he was technically German. That’s what it said on his passport, at least.
“Ich bin deutsch, dummkopf!”

It was becoming clear that his finger was not a good way to choose a destination. It might be best to go somewhere where they spoke one of his languages, right? Or English, really. Apparently people on the internet weren’t fans of having to use Google Translate to read meaningless articles on a simulation hockey league.

He waited for the elevator down to the ground. It was taking much too long. It was an elevator, how slow could it be? Certainly slow enough to make him take the stairs, which he did. They were quiet, giving him time to think. Maybe it wasn’t enough to alert others to the danger. Maybe it would take a leader to stop the threat. Maybe the world needed a strong figure to stand Maybe the evil could only be stopped by a strong figure. Maybe he had to fight HYDRA himself.
 
 
Come back next week for…
A BRAND NEW SERIES

I've wanted to browse this thread in church for quite some time. Thanks, Boom!

I heard Devise wanted to join twitter but when he realized they don't allow over 140 characters he closed his account. 
 
 
Your turn. 

The General says he really doesn't feel like moving his equipment, so you should probably draft him.

Also, I like y'all, so draft me.

I just hate him.

Woohoo.

I see yukon has helped ur spelling

Questions edited for grammar
 
Who do you want to draft you in the VHLM draft? - Austin
I don’t really know much about the teams or who’s on them or anything like that. I know the GMs, though, so I’ll talk about that. Kendrick (Saskatoon) is a pretty cool guy. I’ve only talked to him once, but it was fun. Austin (Yukon) claimed me on waivers, and is generally awesome stupid. IR (Minot), apparently also known as Zack, is cool, and he lets me call him by a really stupid name. I’ve never spoken to Jala (Bern) at length (unless I’m forgetting), but I’ve seen him around SHL and he seems alright. Kitty (Bratislava) is awesome. I feel like I’ve spoken to Draper (Oslo) a few times, and he puts up with Austin’s and my craziness (if I have the right guy here.
 
Who is the best singer in the Yukon Rush LR? - Austin
Definitely Boom, right? Australian girls have cute accents.
 
Where did you get the idea for your name? – Austin­
If you mean player name, he’s General George Patton, of the United States Third Army. How much better can it get? If you mean my username, well, you should ask that next week and get a full story.

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all.

Claim 3 tpe

Happy Thanksgiving you American Bastards.
 
I'll just continue with the normalness that is my Canadian day. 
 
Here's the highlight of my day...
 

someone better know how to play chopsticks.  That song is my jam.

No.
 

Skates on the Ground:
Love to Fight
or
A Good Man

George “The General” Patton, who was actually a reborn version of General George Patton of the Third Army, was not happy. He was not a young man born in Germany. He was not the boy who had played hockey for so many years to prepare for a career full of glory. He was a general from so many years ago, dead in a car crash not far from where he had once thought he had been born.
No, he was actually Ol’ Blood and Guts, brought back from the dead by Nazi scientists as part of Operation Paperclip. He was a product of the computer brain of Emile Zola. He was American, not German. He was a war hero, not a hockey player. In fact, he was a really great general instead of a mediocre hockey player.
He was very much not happy, though. He did not appreciate finding out that he was over one hundred years old. He did not appreciate finding out that he was alive only because of doctors affiliated with the National Socialist German Workers' Party, a horrible organization responsible for millions of deaths, and HYDRA, a previously fictional organization.

It was still game time, though, and The General was still a hockey player. He was a hockey player with some serious anger, and he intended to take it out on someone. Perhaps it would be more appropriate to say a whole lot of someones, because there are six men a team on the ice at a time, and five that he could hit.
So he did just that. He hit the ice (figuratively) and took down the first opponent he saw. Then he hit another. Then another. Then another. Then one more, you know, for good luck. The General liked this beating people up thing.
He was about to take down the first guy again when Fedir Okranitz, star goalie who couldn’t manage to carry them into the playoffs, skated up. The Ukrainian yelled in his ear.
“You don’t have to do this!”
“But Fed! I love to fight!”
“You’re a good man!”
“What the hell am I supposed to do!?”
“Fight the good fight!”

The General had a thought. He liked his new thought. He gave his friend Fedir Okranitz a hug and went to beat up another hockey player. The time would come soon enough for George Patton to fight the good fight.  When the game, and therefore the season, came to an end, it was time for him to do just what the goalie had said. It was time for The General to fight the good fight. He boarded a plane, and off he went to…
Come back next week for…
J’ACCUSE!
or
SHOTS YOU TAKE