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Shirl

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I hope the bad mead never starts posting.

 

We need pics of you and Howard from your wedding and pics of you and him this past Christmas.

When was the first time you and Howard did it?

Was he your first?

Where did you do it the first time?

At 90 are you still doing it?

Do you still sw.......?

Did you ever cheat on Howard?

How many kids do you have besides roger?

 

You can put your honest answers under my quote and no one will see your answers. I will never tell anyone what you say.

Nice try Mead!!! LOL! LMBO!!! You can trick Marion into that one, but I'm much more tech savvy. I use the Facebook.

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Stop yer whining, boy. Back in my day, characters were NEVER funny. And we didn't have this newfangled world wide net to see them. No siree bob. We had to walk somewhere to see them. No shoes, uphill, in the snow, both ways, and we LIKED it, dangnabbit. After, we all went to the nickelodeon for a soda and a Fatty Arbuckle movie. Then I fought the Boche in the Great War...ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

 

Aren't you dead yet? Damn Grandpa....you are one tenacious bastard.

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If Shirl says call me Marion, just don't even try it. I can cut off her word wide web use pretty quick.

Hey Marion, you tell your buddies that when I leave a note on my mailbox that it's okay to leave my package without getting a signature, the leave my !@#$ing package!
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To be fair, Cletus is always amused. Where is he btw?

I'm here! Lol... Just working a lot of doubles and kayaking the Allegheny, checking my turtle traps- plus rattlesnake season came in a couple weeks ago... Been pretty busy! Lol

 

That one toothed country bumpkin don't count son...no disrespect intended.

What is that thing called that you use to clean your teeth???

If Shirl says call me Marion, just don't even try it. I can cut off her word wide web use pretty quick.

I will just call you Mary for short there Howie... Listen- you don't control Shirl, it's 2015!!! She can use her "interweb" (speaking of webs- a little "thanks" for knocking the cob webs off that old catchers mitt of hers would be nice!), she can work, hell- she can even vote!!!

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Justjack Back in the 70's people used to go to the square (that's what we called the central office) to get their own damned packages. Yeah, that's right. It required you to actually go outside and walk or drive to the post office and pick up your own boxes. Then, too many people like you started whining about the weight, or the walk or the drive and so they made us deliver them to your !@#$ing doorstep because your time was apparently more valuable than my back. Now a few packages were lost or stolen by your neighbors or other punks, so they created a rule that we have to get permission to leave a pack unattended. So either let us leave your monthly jelly club box or stop whining when the neighborhood kids steal it and put it in their pot pipes.

 

 

Cletus I thought I was done with you. Noone calls me Marion. Not my brother, my wife or my kids. Not sure why Shirl even brought that up but I'll deal with that later. She usually looks for me to treat at Friendlys but tonight I may just forget my wallet. I don't need your input because you are the type that used to make fun of servicemen like me way back then. That only happens once though. Fool me twice shame on you, Fool me once a brick wall you'll go through.

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Justjack Back in the 70's people used to go to the square (that's what we called the central office) to get their own damned packages. Yeah, that's right. It required you to actually go outside and walk or drive to the post office and pick up your own boxes. Then, too many people like you started whining about the weight, or the walk or the drive and so they made us deliver them to your !@#$ing doorstep because your time was apparently more valuable than my back. Now a few packages were lost or stolen by your neighbors or other punks, so they created a rule that we have to get permission to leave a pack unattended. So either let us leave your monthly jelly club box or stop whining when the neighborhood kids steal it and put it in their pot pipes.

 

 

Cletus I thought I was done with you. Noone calls me Marion. Not my brother, my wife or my kids. Not sure why Shirl even brought that up but I'll deal with that later. She usually looks for me to treat at Friendlys but tonight I may just forget my wallet. I don't need your input because you are the type that used to make fun of servicemen like me way back then. That only happens once though. Fool me twice shame on you, Fool me once a brick wall you'll go through.

Alright Mary, whatever you say... Just remember this- you time working for the postal service is about as equivalent as any other public service job and doesn't even compare to the sacrifices that our men and women in the military make... I don't know whether to call you Howard the Coward or just Mary.... Both of them make me chuckle!

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I have to get off the computer now because Shirl needs to check her numbers. I was one of the first postal servicemen to carry pepper spray for dogs and unruly kids that spray painted my delivery truck. It worked great on dogs and the one time I sprayed a kid he was blinded for a few minutes until he saw clear enough to get home. My truck was clean after that. That fact that I was an armed serviceman with 40 years of service is something I am proud of no matter what you say.

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Justjack Back in the 70's people used to go to the square (that's what we called the central office) to get their own damned packages. Yeah, that's right. It required you to actually go outside and walk or drive to the post office and pick up your own boxes. Then, too many people like you started whining about the weight, or the walk or the drive and so they made us deliver them to your !@#$ing doorstep because your time was apparently more valuable than my back. Now a few packages were lost or stolen by your neighbors or other punks, so they created a rule that we have to get permission to leave a pack unattended. So either let us leave your monthly jelly club box or stop whining when the neighborhood kids steal it and put it in their pot pipes.

 

 

Cletus I thought I was done with you. Noone calls me Marion. Not my brother, my wife or my kids. Not sure why Shirl even brought that up but I'll deal with that later. She usually looks for me to treat at Friendlys but tonight I may just forget my wallet. I don't need your input because you are the type that used to make fun of servicemen like me way back then. That only happens once though. Fool me twice shame on you, Fool me once a brick wall you'll go through.

I guess I'd be bitter too if I had to go around with a name like Marion. Wasn't that the name of the Richie's mom on Happy Days?

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I have to get off the computer now because Shirl needs to check her numbers. I was one of the first postal servicemen to carry pepper spray for dogs and unruly kids that spray painted my delivery truck. It worked great on dogs and the one time I sprayed a kid he was blinded for a few minutes until he saw clear enough to get home. My truck was clean after that. That fact that I was an armed serviceman with 40 years of service is something I am proud of no matter what you say.

Armed serviceman.... You're about as armed as a freaking snake.... You're a glory whore seeking stolen valor, and I'm about to make the trip up north to show you what this hickabilly can do!

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I will say this, any troll who equates working for the effing P.O.to serving their country?

Is a moron, an insult to anyone that served. And it ticks me off. How much longer does this

Troll get to keep these multiple accounts of BS?

 

People Who have imaginary friends and troll like this have some serious mental issues.

Nothing cute or funny Here at all.

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I will say this, any troll who equates working for the effing P.O.to serving their country?

Is a moron, an insult to anyone that served. And it ticks me off. How much longer does this

Troll get to keep these multiple accounts of BS?

 

People Who have imaginary friends and troll like this have some serious mental issues.

Nothing cute or funny Here at all.

Best Player,

 

I've been telling Marion for years that he's not a veteran. But he insists that he served his county. He tried joining the real service out of high school, but they wouldn't let him in because of his condition. I figured, what the heck. He's not hurting anybody. So he goes down to the VFW and wears his little homemade Purple Heart from when a dog bit his bum back in '72. Kinda cute really.

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