Carela Manahan correctly self-identifies her e-mail.
Burton Grims advertises... I do confess, I don't have the slightest idea what a "multibagger" is. I assume it's some kind of mechanized transportation, but who the hell knows? I suppose I could do a net search, but I don't care enough. Besides, the mental image is too precious to me.
Dr. Alfonso Aaron doesn't get the whole "Y chromosome+penis+testicles=real man already you fuckin' doofus" concept. I expect he only calls himself "Doctor" after he got his diploma from Captain Billy's Correspondence School of Bartending. "I'm a mixologist! That's a kind of doctor!" Moron.
Mel Q> Albert, why do I want women to fight for my attention? How will they fight? To the death? Until first blood? Will they use weapons, or are we talking something that's more along the lines of nude Jell-o wrestling and pillow fights? Anyway, I don't want to end up as the main character in a bad harem comedy, so I decline your offer, you douchebag.
Ora Dickens makes no sense. First, I don't have radar. Does Ora know anything about physics? I mean, do you know how big a radar eye would have to be? Second, even if you are a person who was born with radar, how do you "add" something to it? The best cyborg prosthesis we can make right now is a cochlear implant, AKA a "bionic ear", and it's vastly inferior to a "meat" ear because the human ear consists of hundreds (or thousands) of nerves and they can only implant so many electrodes into it. (Right now I think they've gotten to 64 or 128 channels. I can't remember.) Dickens, you are a dick.
Dr. Verna Numbers talks about increasing the size of my machine. If my machine gets any bigger I won't even get 18 MPG damn you! Gasoline does not grow on trees you bitch! Shut up and go away and stop bothering me! I hate you!
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...it's way past my bed time....