Moderator: Community Team
Serbia wrote:The only thing that could actually make me vote for Trump would be Bernie winning the Democratic nomination. Although, I wouldn't be voting "for" Trump as much as I'd be voting against Bernie.
saxitoxin wrote:Serbia is a RUDE DUDE
may not be a PRUDE, but he's gotta 'TUDE
might not be LEWD, but he's gonna get BOOED
RUDE
Serbia wrote:I'm called Serbia here. I'm waiting for the owner to sell the site before I play another game. Been a long and lonely wait, but I won't give up.
Bollocks.
Bernie Sanders wrote:My name is Bernie Sanders and I'm in love with beer.
waauw wrote:Bernie Sanders wrote:My name is Bernie Sanders and I'm in love with beer.
Are you a drunk?
Symmetry wrote:Serbia wrote:I'm called Serbia here. I'm waiting for the owner to sell the site before I play another game. Been a long and lonely wait, but I won't give up.
Bollocks.
What did you do?
saxitoxin wrote:Serbia is a RUDE DUDE
may not be a PRUDE, but he's gotta 'TUDE
might not be LEWD, but he's gonna get BOOED
RUDE
mrswdk wrote:I'm Mrs WDK and my primary purpose is to lower this forum's average age by about 6 years, to boost this forum's appeal to people who can't remember where they were when Kennedy got shot.
2dimes wrote:
Did you grow cucumbers or peas, or was it all root vegetables?
Dukasaur wrote:mrswdk wrote:I'm Mrs WDK and my primary purpose is to lower this forum's average age by about 6 years, to boost this forum's appeal to people who can't remember where they were when Kennedy got shot.
I was was still in diapers when they shot Kennedy. Had no effect on me.
The first clear memory of a world event that I have is the Soviet invasion of Prague.
My parents had fled to the West shortly after I was born. I was raised by my grandparents and I never realized they weren't my parents until later. My job in the house was to get up in the morning and tune in Radio Free Europe on the shortwave. My grandfather liked to wake up to the sound of Radio Free Europe. That was our little ritual together. We'd get up, have tea, listen to the radio, then have a quick prayer for the Communists to die, and then my grandfather would go off to work and I'd have time with my grandmother, growing things in our little garden on the balcony. It was an amazing childhood. My grandfather taught me about all the big, grand things in the world, the wars and revolutions and dynasties, and my grandmother taught me about all the small, lovely things in the world, things that give life, the flowers and seeds and butterflies and bees.
But that morning, there was no radio. All I got was horrible whines and squeaks. I did not know and would not have understood, but the Russians were jamming it. I went and woke up my grandfather, embarrassed to tell him, thinking I had broken the radio. He got up and found some official stations and got a handle on what was going on. Then he went to work. My grandmother begged him not to go, but he said "Don't be stupid. I went to work during Hitler, I went to work during Stalin, certainly Brezhnev is not going to stop me." And that was one of my biggest life lessons. You can't let the fuckers destroy you with fear. They might destroy you, but if you stand paralyzed with fear you save them the trouble.
That night, we went for a walk. "Aren't the Russians going to shoot me?" I asked. "No," said my grandfather, "even Russians aren't evil enough to shoot little children." He was lying, of course, but I was convinced, and I went into the streets without fear.
We saw the iconic sight of a Russian tank rolling down the street, deliberately rolling along the side of the street, crushing all the parked cars. The streets were wide open, there was no need. The bastard was doing it just for fun. I knew some of the people that owned those cars. Some of them stood in line with us when my grandmother was buying butter and cheese, and they gave me candy when I was impatient. Under the communists it took 20 years to save up for a car. Those men would never have another one.
Anyway, that's my big childhood memory, and I'll say it has most people's "I was sitting at the Dairy Queen when Kennedy was shot" beat all to hell.
saxitoxin wrote:Serbia is a RUDE DUDE
may not be a PRUDE, but he's gotta 'TUDE
might not be LEWD, but he's gonna get BOOED
RUDE
Dukasaur wrote:2dimes wrote:
Did you grow cucumbers or peas, or was it all root vegetables?
Definitely a lot of peas! Beans, too. Vines are great for a balcony garden, because they use the vertical space that would otherwise be wasted. I remember radishes and kohlrabi and garlic. Not everything was edible. Some were just beautiful flowers. My grandmother loved her lobelia. Had a monstrous philodendron, too, that was bigger than I was.
-you got mine beat!Dukasaur wrote:mrswdk wrote:I'm Mrs WDK and my primary purpose is to lower this forum's average age by about 6 years, to boost this forum's appeal to people who can't remember where they were when Kennedy got shot.
I was was still in diapers when they shot Kennedy. Had no effect on me.
The first clear memory of a world event that I have is the Soviet invasion of Prague.
My parents had fled to the West shortly after I was born. I was raised by my grandparents and I never realized they weren't my parents until later. My job in the house was to get up in the morning and tune in Radio Free Europe on the shortwave. My grandfather liked to wake up to the sound of Radio Free Europe. That was our little ritual together. We'd get up, have tea, listen to the radio, then have a quick prayer for the Communists to die, and then my grandfather would go off to work and I'd have time with my grandmother, growing things in our little garden on the balcony. It was an amazing childhood. My grandfather taught me about all the big, grand things in the world, the wars and revolutions and dynasties, and my grandmother taught me about all the small, lovely things in the world, things that give life, the flowers and seeds and butterflies and bees.
But that morning, there was no radio. All I got was horrible whines and squeaks. I did not know and would not have understood, but the Russians were jamming it. I went and woke up my grandfather, embarrassed to tell him, thinking I had broken the radio. He got up and found some official stations and got a handle on what was going on. Then he went to work. My grandmother begged him not to go, but he said "Don't be stupid. I went to work during Hitler, I went to work during Stalin, certainly Brezhnev is not going to stop me." And that was one of my biggest life lessons. You can't let the fuckers destroy you with fear. They might destroy you, but if you stand paralyzed with fear you save them the trouble.
That night, we went for a walk. "Aren't the Russians going to shoot me?" I asked. "No," said my grandfather, "even Russians aren't evil enough to shoot little children." He was lying, of course, but I was convinced, and I went into the streets without fear.
We saw the iconic sight of a Russian tank rolling down the street, deliberately rolling along the side of the street, crushing all the parked cars. The streets were wide open, there was no need. The bastard was doing it just for fun. I knew some of the people that owned those cars. Some of them stood in line with us when my grandmother was buying butter and cheese, and they gave me candy when I was impatient. Under the communists it took 20 years to save up for a car. Those men would never have another one.
Anyway, that's my big childhood memory, and I'll say it has most people's "I was sitting at the Dairy Queen when Kennedy was shot" beat all to hell.
