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LuthorCorp for the investication
January 23, 2015$19
If anyone gets nosy, just …you know … shoot ’em. Shoot ’em? Politely, of course. Next time you want to stab me in the back, have the guts to do it to my face.
Am I a lion? I don’t think of myself as a lion. You might as well, though, I have a mighty roar. You’re welcome on my boat. God ain’t. Every man there go back inside or we will blow a new crater in this little moon. Next time you want to stab me in the back, have the guts to do it to my face. Yes sir, Captain Tightpants! First rule of battle, little one … don’t ever let them know where you are… WHOO-HOO! I’M RIGHT HERE! I’M RIGHT HERE! YOU WANT SOME O’ ME?! YEAH YOU DO! COME ON! COME ON! AAAAAH! Whoo-hoo! … ‘Course, there’re other schools of thought. Jayne, your mouth is talking. You might wanna look to that. You know what the chain of command is? It’s the chain I go get and beat you with until you understand who’s in ruttin charge here. Ten percent of nothin’ is … let me do the math here … nothin’ into nothin’ … carry the nothin’ …
Elementary, my dear Watson. Is there any point to which you would wish to draw my attention? To the curious incident of the dog in the night-time. The dog did nothing in the night-time. That was the curious incident My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other people don’t know. Holmes and Watson are on a camping trip. In the middle of the night Holmes wakes up and gives Dr. Watson a nudge. ‘Watson’ he says, ‘look up in the sky and tell me what you see.’ ‘I see millions of stars, Holmes,’ says Watson. ‘And what do you conclude from that, Watson?’ Watson thinks for a moment. ‘Well,’ he says, ‘astronomically, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo. Horologically, I deduce that the time is approximately a quarter past three. Meterologically, I suspect that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow. Theologically, I see that God is all-powerful, and we are small and insignificant. Uh, what does it tell you, Holmes?’ ‘Watson, you idiot! Someone has stolen our tent!’ I have always held, too, that pistol practice should be distinctly an open-air pastime; and when Holmes, in one of his queer humours, would sit in an armchair with his hair-trigger and a hundred Boxer cartridges and proceed to adorn the opposite wall with a patriotic V.R. done in bullet pocks, I felt strongly that neither the atmosphere nor the appearance of our room was improved by it. Education never ends, Watson. It is a series of lessons, with the greatest for the last. Come, Watson, come! The game is afoot. Not a word! Into your clothes and come! I am the most incurably lazy devil that ever stood in shoe leather You see, but you do not observe. The distinction is clear. Man, or at least criminal man, has lost all enterprise and originality. As to my own little practice, it seems to be degenerating into an agency for recovering lost lead pencils and giving advice to young ladies from boarding-schools.
There’s so many poorly chosen words in that sentence. I’m half machine. I’m a monster. Bad news. Andy Griffith turned us down. He didn’t like his trailer. No! I was ashamed to be SEEN with you. I like being with you. Guy’s a pro. I don’t understand the question, and I won’t respond to it. It’s a hug, Michael. I’m hugging you.