Russell, at 08:02 on Apr 21 1996, you wrote to Bill Grimsley...

BG> juicy rocks on my balcony, for throwing at speeding hoons (the hard
BG> part is figuring out how far up the street they need to be when I
BG> throw the rock). One fellow no longer speeds, not since his
BG> windscreen mysteriously smashed as he drove past.

BG> I bet you think I'm joking, too. :)

RB> Not you, I know that you don't have a sense of humour and life is
RB> all too serious for you.

I have NO sense of humour when there are young kids playing on the street
(even though they shouldn't be there) and teenage fuckwits scream down this
narrow street at speeds of up to 100kph.  And neither does anybody else. 
In fact, the Tuesday after Easter, some moron screamed down the street at
high speed, and crashed at the corner.  We heard it, but didn't bother
checking to see if he was dead (I didn't want to be disappointed by finding
he was still alive).

RB> And I know that on judgement day, God is going to ask you " Yo, Bill
RB> , so how many rocks have you thrown at cars, in your life time....
RB> How many rocks are still sitting wasteing on your balcony.....
RB> and oh Yes, how many  cats have you flattened."

RB> AND YOU WILL NATURALLY WANT TO BE THE AT THE TOP OF HIS CLASS.

Presumably this is the same god who purportedly made cats to start with?  :)

Regards, Bill

--- Msgedsq/2 3.20