^^ First of all I have to point out that I am not 'bitter' about anything. We should clear that up right now, along with the puddle of watery poop at your feet, caused by the sudden realization that you have been forced once again to appease the caanoboore gods of SOL, and are thus poised on the precipice of the eager inferno amicably known as Mr.Somalia, which I imagine has loosened your bowels somewhat. If my remarks, "Anyone who says he can moderate a debate where large amounts of caanoboore has been imbibed---- asagaa cirka roob ku og!", confused you in some way, I'll have to explain that this was a joke, although also a deliberate fact that the topic is indeed about a couple of raving mad caanoboore guzzlers whom no one knows what they want nor even cares. But as usual, you got defensive too quickly and you let your imagination run wild and lashed out most brutally at your betters. Nonetheless, I'll let you off this time-- you're probably still PMSing. :cool:

Anyone who says he can moderate a debate where large amounts of caanoboore has been imbibed-- asagaa cirka roob ku og!

Originally posted by General Duke: quote: Originally posted by Maaddeey: Duke, Again, PL ha u baqin, waxa ciidanka horkacaya Sh. A/lahi Ali Hashi. Sh. A/wahid, Sh. Jama A/salam & Fuad Shongole As I said before, why do I worry about Puntland, when you are unable to capture a village like Guriceel? As for the men above. They may seem big in your part of the country, but those are no more than lost men, out to make money from you. As for Al Shabaab, their fashionable days are over, hence the failure to capture Dhusa, or stop Sharif Hotel from going about his business. LOL @ "As for Al Shabaab, their fashionable days are over..." Duke, we always knew that the fake cimaamads would be short lived. Your post reminded me of when Warren Buffet said, "It's only when the tide goes out that you learn who's been swimming naked..." In this case, the tide being the clans that shortsightedly supported these Lucifer's farts in the early days, but have finally realized that their ill-considered espousal of Al Shabab ideology has only resulted in a disaster for their respective families. And as such, Al Shabab are naked, and not all the fake cimaamads in the world can cover up their horrible stink.

^ There is nothing for admins to settle here. He simply asked you a question,"Adi dabaal maa tahay, waxaan sameeyo & meeshaan joogo ma taqaan horta??", which means, "are you fool? How do you know where I am and what I do?". Thus, it behooves you at least to try to answer these questions before unleashing your trademark bleats for help from the admin!

Sarcasm is lost on you guys. sad...

^ Yep, Spurs deserved to win, hands down: they were more hungry, more focused and played with more passion than the blues. p.s Drogba is one helluva drama queen. I can't stand it when he sulks like a child in big games.

^ Ha ha ha... Those monkeys are sh!t outta luck, I tell ya!

Not to be psittacine, but I agree with Anwar about what you are doing being 'Haraam', and wanted to say "Go for it B"! A little hell never hurt nobody: just make sure not to forget, to take the standard blood tests often recommended to guys who creep on the down-low with-- STD prone-- round-heeled women or as we call 'em... "dem ghetto b!tches".

Auguries of Innocence by William Blake And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour. A Robin Red breast in a Cage Puts all Heaven in a Rage. A dove house fill'd with doves & Pigeons Shudders Hell thro' all its regions. A dog starv'd at his Master's Gate Predicts the ruin of the State. A Horse misus'd upon the Road Calls to Heaven for Human blood. Each outcry of the hunted Hare A fibre from the Brain does tear. A Skylark wounded in the wing, A Cherubim does cease to sing. The Game Cock clipp'd and arm'd for fight Does the Rising Sun affright. Every Wolf's & Lion's howl Raises from Hell a Human Soul. The wild deer, wand'ring here & there, Keeps the Human Soul from Care. The Lamb misus'd breeds public strife And yet forgives the Butcher's Knife. The Bat that flits at close of Eve Has left the Brain that won't believe. The Owl that calls upon the Night Speaks the Unbeliever's fright. He who shall hurt the little Wren Shall never be belov'd by Men. He who the Ox to wrath has mov'd Shall never be by Woman lov'd. The wanton Boy that kills the Fly Shall feel the Spider's enmity. He who torments the Chafer's sprite Weaves a Bower in endless Night. The Catterpillar on the Leaf Repeats to thee thy Mother's grief. Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly, For the Last Judgement draweth nigh. He who shall train the Horse to War Shall never pass the Polar Bar. The Beggar's Dog & Widow's Cat, Feed them & thou wilt grow fat. The Gnat that sings his Summer's song Poison gets from Slander's tongue. The poison of the Snake & Newt Is the sweat of Envy's Foot. The poison of the Honey Bee Is the Artist's Jealousy. The Prince's Robes & Beggars' Rags Are Toadstools on the Miser's Bags. A truth that's told with bad intent Beats all the Lies you can invent. It is right it should be so; Man was made for Joy & Woe; And when this we rightly know Thro' the World we safely go. Joy & Woe are woven fine, A Clothing for the Soul divine; Under every grief & pine Runs a joy with silken twine. The Babe is more than swadling Bands; Throughout all these Human Lands Tools were made, & born were hands, Every Farmer Understands. Every Tear from Every Eye Becomes a Babe in Eternity. This is caught by Females bright And return'd to its own delight. The Bleat, the Bark, Bellow & Roar Are Waves that Beat on Heaven's Shore. The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath Writes Revenge in realms of death. The Beggar's Rags, fluttering in Air, Does to Rags the Heavens tear. The Soldier arm'd with Sword & Gun, Palsied strikes the Summer's Sun. The poor Man's Farthing is worth more Than all the Gold on Afric's Shore. One Mite wrung from the Labrer's hands Shall buy & sell the Miser's lands: Or, if protected from on high, Does that whole Nation sell & buy. He who mocks the Infant's Faith Shall be mock'd in Age & Death. He who shall teach the Child to Doubt The rotting Grave shall ne'er get out. He who respects the Infant's faith Triumph's over Hell & Death. The Child's Toys & the Old Man's Reasons Are the Fruits of the Two seasons. The Questioner, who sits so sly, Shall never know how to Reply. He who replies to words of Doubt Doth put the Light of Knowledge out. The Strongest Poison ever known Came from Caesar's Laurel Crown. Nought can deform the Human Race Like the Armour's iron brace. When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow. A Riddle or the Cricket's Cry Is to Doubt a fit Reply. The Emmet's Inch & Eagle's Mile Make Lame Philosophy to smile. He who Doubts from what he sees Will ne'er believe, do what you Please. If the Sun & Moon should doubt They'd immediately Go out. To be in a Passion you Good may do, But no Good if a Passion is in you. The Whore & Gambler, by the State Licenc'd, build that Nation's Fate. The Harlot's cry from Street to Street Shall weave Old England's winding Sheet. The Winner's Shout, the Loser's Curse, Dance before dead England's Hearse. Every Night & every Morn Some to Misery are Born. Every Morn & every Night Some are Born to sweet Delight. Some ar Born to sweet Delight, Some are born to Endless Night. We are led to Believe a Lie When we see not Thro' the Eye Which was Born in a Night to Perish in a Night When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light. God Appears & God is Light To those poor Souls who dwell in the Night, But does a Human Form Display To those who Dwell in Realms of day.

I remember a goalie who once played for the San Jose Sharks Hockey team named Steve Shields. I found his last name particularly funny because of the position he played for the team... I now know, it was simply the humor of the aptronym at work back then.

Are you familiar with the term aptronym? It’s not recognized by my spell check, nor does it pop up in daily conversation. But if you’ve ever had landscaping work done by someone named Plant or noted a local librarian named Booker, you’ve encountered an aptronym. According to Britannica, an aptronym is the term applied when a name is especially suited to the profession of its owner. Nominative determinism is another description of this phenomenon, and the medical profession seems particularly prone. Among the doctors encountered during a quick web search were a chiropractor named Feeley, an urologist named Cockburn, a podiatrist named Smellsey, and a dentist named Tuthaker. In an article posted on the Daily Camera, reporter Brittany Anas focused just on her Boulder County, Colorado, beat and found a hamburger joint owner named Berger; Oak Thorne, founder of an ecological foundation; rock-climbing instructor Chris Wall; atmospheric specialist Betsy Weatherhead; and theater and arts director Tony Tallent. Notable, high-profile aptronyms belong to world champion surfer Layne Beachley, education secretary Margaret Spellings, Jamaican sprinter Usain Bolt and former NASCAR driver Lake Speed. Britannica credits American newspaper columnist Franklin P. Adams with coining the term, but it is Rhode Island psychologist Lewis Lipsitt who’s elbow-deep in the research. “When people have names that suggest their occupations, or preoccupations,” Lipsitt told the Camera, “I really think there is something to it.” The professor has collected more than 1,000 examples, with a Mr. Hawkes from the Audubon Society and a Professor Fidler from a university music department among them. I’m off to the Maryland General Assembly website – if there were ever a state to have an elected official named Dew Nothing or I. M. Lyon it is surely the one in which I live. Source: Chris Moneymaker, aptronym and Poker Champion

Thesaurus by Billy Collins It could be the name of a prehistoric beast that roamed the Paleozoic earth, rising up on its hind legs to show off its large vocabulary, or some lover in a myth who is metamorphosed into a book. It means treasury, but it is just a place where words congregate with their relatives, a big park where hundreds of family reunions are always being held, house, home, abode, dwelling, lodgings, and digs, all sharing the same picnic basket and thermos; hairy, hirsute, woolly, furry, fleecy, and shaggy all running a sack race or throwing horseshoes, inert, static, motionless, fixed and immobile standing and kneeling in rows for a group photograph. Here father is next to sire and brother close to sibling, separated only by fine shades of meaning. And every group has its odd cousin, the one who traveled the farthest to be here: astereognosis, polydipsia, or some eleven syllable, unpronounceable substitute for the word tool. Even their own relatives have to squint at their name tags. I can see my own copy up on a high shelf. I rarely open it, because I know there is no such thing as a synonym and because I get nervous around people who always assemble with their own kind, forming clubs and nailing signs to closed front doors while others huddle alone in the dark streets. I would rather see words out on their own, away from their families and the warehouse of Roget, wandering the world where they sometimes fall in love with a completely different word. Surely, you have seen pairs of them standing forever next to each other on the same line inside a poem, a small chapel where weddings like these, between perfect strangers, can take place.

The Hurt Locker by Brian Turner Nothing but the hurt left here. Nothing but bullets and pain and the bled out slumping and all the fcuks and god-damns and Jesus Christs of the wounded. Nothing left here but the hurt. Believe it when you see it. Believe it when a 12-year-old rolls a grenade into the room. Or when a sniper punches a hole deep into someone’s skull. Believe it when four men step from a taxicab in Mosul to shower the street in brass and fire. Open the hurt locker and see what there is of knives and teeth. Open the hurt locker and learn how rough men come hunting for souls.

Originally posted by Jacphar: ^Tobon millionaas rabaa inay isku aqli noqoto, isku si u fakarto, ilaahaa dadka abuurtay. Jacphar, Moryaanimadii iyo jirrinimadii 20tankii sano lasoo dhaafay dalkeena la harey ayee cimaamad been ah inta soo saareen bey rabaan iney anaga nooga iibiyaan iney tahay diinteena Islaamka. Laakin, no one is buying those cock and bull stories anymore.

Rudy, Even if you owe 10 stacks, but do not have the money, this is no excuse for not filing on time or asking for an extension. Here's why. If I were you, I'd first ask for a filing extension from the IRS by filing Form 4868 before April 15; and you don't even have to give 'em a reason for asking for the extension. This will automatically buy you at least 6 months of time to raise the money you owe. If by October 15, you still don't have the money...Just Be Cool!! You can still ask for an installment payment plan from the IRS... Good luck! IRS Help for Financially Distressed Taxpayers

LOL @ "Qashinkan ma aragteen" Maaddeey, oo hadii ladhaho, "we are against the use of child suicide bombers and the unholy usurpation of Islam for petty political purposes", ma la xanaaqayaa, Mr Rajebeeto?

^ Either way, condoning pedophilia noted.

...this article reeks of desperation.

When will this senselessness ever end? :mad:

Natiijada dagaalka Muqdisho waa mid isku mid ah, Dhimasho, Dhaawac, Barakac deris la noqda shacabka masaakiinta ah, iyo kuwa ku dul dagaalamaya oo aan kala adkaan. Dhimashada ayaa kor u dhaafeysa 15 qof, dhaawaca ayaa gaaraya 60 qof. Gawaarida gargaarka deg dega ah ayaa isu badalay gaarigacano in lagu qaado dhaawaca tolow nolol maku gaarsiiyey Isbitaalka – Natiijada dal bur buray Source: Horseed Media Photos: Reuters Pictures

^ That ex-Nazi and all his pedophile priests ought to be arrested.

" :cool: :cool:

It may not be apparent to y'all, but Jacob Zuma's election was a very bad and dangerous choice for South Africa, which previously Mbeki&CO in the ANC recognized and tried to prevent. Zuma is an incendiary oaf who has a large segment of South Africa's disenfranchised communities believing every nonsense that comes out of his mouth. And his overtolerance of Malema's despicable racism is proof enough, for all those in doubt. Unfortunately for that country, Malema is not just a one-off. He is one of many, who believe the only way for black South Africans to finally "get ahead" socioeconomically is to take everything from the white South Africans; and the Boers on the other side have got their own crazies practicing military drills in the bushes, readying themselves for particularly such an event, for they have no plans-- whatsoever-- to go as quietly as the whites in Zimbabwe. In any case, I just hope cooler heads take the reigns of that country before the sh!t hits the proverbial fan-- but I'm not holding my breath.

^^ LOL... Walaale marmar waa loo baahanayahy iney moryaantu daacdaacsato...ee iska daa nimankaan fuquburaalaha Puntland madax faluuq uu ku ridey!

^ Sarcasm ?