Is this poll dumb or is it stupid?

Warning: all votes are public and you may select more than one response.

__________________
-Marty

1986 300E 220,000 miles+ transmission impossible
(Now waiting under a bridge in order to become one)

Reading your M103 duty cycle:
http://www.peachparts.com/shopforum/showpost.php?p=831799&postcount=13
http://www.peachparts.com/shopforum/showpost.php?p=831807&postcount=14

Its both, but a good waste of time.

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-Justin

91 560 SEC AMG - other dogs dd
01 Honda S2000 - dogs dd
07 MB ML320 CDI - dd
16 Lexus IS250 - wifes dd

it's automatic.

Aside from the concept being risibly inept it does have a certain pedestrian jeau d'esprit....though likely not as much as in Washington..........

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Jeau d'esprit? jeau d'esprit! The highly deductive methodology employeed in this stupendous perlustration is no trifleing piddly. It's a drunken mockery of all that is ill at ease with the state of man.

__________________
-Marty

1986 300E 220,000 miles+ transmission impossible
(Now waiting under a bridge in order to become one)

Reading your M103 duty cycle:
http://www.peachparts.com/shopforum/showpost.php?p=831799&postcount=13
http://www.peachparts.com/shopforum/showpost.php?p=831807&postcount=14

Ahhh,Camus,Sartre...whither art thou? All you have cited cannot be cavalierly dismissed without bidding fair to obfuscate and render null all useless human achievement from Aeschylus to Capote......

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It sits, plain in square, seeable, "Three hundred miles and more from Chimborazo"...
"And amidst the little population of that now isolated and
forgotten valley the disease ran its course. The old became
groping, the young saw but dimly, and the children that were born
to them never saw at all. But life was very easy in that
snow-rimmed basin, lost to all the world, with neither thorns nor
briers, with no evil insects nor any beasts save the gentle breed
of llamas they had lugged and thrust and followed up the beds of
the shrunken rivers in the gorges up which they had come. The
seeing had become purblind so gradually that they scarcely noticed
their loss. They guided the sightless youngsters hither and
thither until they knew the whole valley marvellously, and when at
last sight died out among them the race lived on. ..."

__________________
-Marty

1986 300E 220,000 miles+ transmission impossible
(Now waiting under a bridge in order to become one)

Reading your M103 duty cycle:
http://www.peachparts.com/shopforum/showpost.php?p=831799&postcount=13
http://www.peachparts.com/shopforum/showpost.php?p=831807&postcount=14

TELL you I chyll,
If that ye wyll
A whyle be styll,
Of a comely gyll
That dwelt on a hyll :
But she is not gryll,
For she is somwhat sage
And well worne in age ;
For her vysage
It would aswage
A mannes courage.
Her lothely lere
Is nothynge clere,
But vgly of chere,
Droupy and drowsy,
Scuruy and lowsy ;
Her face all bowsy,
Comely crynklyd,
Woundersly wrynkled,
Lyke a rost pygges eare,
Brystled wyth here.
Her lewde lyppes twayne,
They slauer, men sayne,
Lyke a ropy rayne,
A gummy glayre :
She is vgly fayre ;
Her nose somdele hoked,
And camously croked,
Neuer stoppynge,
But euer droppynge ;
Her skynne lose and slacke,
Grained lyke a sacke ;
With a croked backe.
Her eyen gowndy
Are full unsowndy,
For they are blered ;
And she gray hered ;
Jawed lyke a jetty ;
A man would have pytty
To se how she is gumbed,
Fyngered and thumbed,
Gently ioynted,
Gresed and annoynted
Vp to the knockles ;
The bones [of] her huckels
Lyke as they were with buckles
Togyther made fast :
Her youth is farre past :
Foted lyke a plane,
Legged lyke a crane ;
And yet she wyll iet,
Lyke a iolly fet,
In her furred flocket,
And gray russet rocket,
With symper the cocket.
Her huke of Lyncole grene,
It had ben hers, I wene,
More then fourty yere ;
And so doth it apere,
For the grene bare thredes
Loke like sere wedes,
Wyddered lyke hay,
The woll worne away ;
And yet I dare saye
She thynketh herselfe gaye
Vpon the holy daye,
Whan she doth her aray,
And gyrdeth in her gytes
Stytched and pranked with pletes ;
Her kyrtel Brystow red,
With clothes vpon her hed
That wey a sowe of led,
Wrythen in wonder wyse,
After the Sarasyns gyse,
With a whym wham,
Knyt with a trym tram,
Vpon her brayne pan,
Like an Egyptian,
Capped about :
When she goeth out
Herselfe for to shewe,
She dryueth downe the dewe
Wyth a payre of heles
As brode as two wheles ;
She hobles as a gose
With her blanket hose
Ouer the falowe ;
Her shone smered wyth talowe,
Gresed vpon dyrt
That baudeth her skyrt.

Primus passus

And this comely dame,
I vnderstande, her name
Is Elynour Rummynge,
At home in her wonnynge ;
And as men say
She dwelt in Sothray,
In a certayne stede
Bysyde Lederhede.
She is a tonnysh gyb ;
The deuyll and she be syb.
But to make vp my tale,
She breweth noppy ale,
And maketh therof port sale
To trauellars, to tynkers,
To sweters, to swynkers,
And all good ale drynkers,
That wyll nothynge spare,
But drynke tyll they stare
And brynge themselfe bare,
With, Now away the mare,
And let vs sley care,
As wyse as an hare !
Come who so wyll
To Elynour on the hyll,
Wyth, Fyll the cup, fyll,
And syt there by styll,
Erly and late :
Thyther cometh Kate,
Cysly, and Sare,
With theyr legges bare,
And also theyr fete
Hardely full vnswete ;
Wyth theyr heles dagged,
Theyr kyrtelles all to-iagged,
Theyr smockes all to-ragged,
Wyth tytters and tatters,
Brynge dysshes and platters,
Wyth all theyr myght runnynge
To Elynour Rummynge,
To haue of her tunnynge :
She leneth them on the same,
And thus begynneth the game.
Some wenches come vnlased,
Some huswyues come vnbrased,
Wyth theyr naked pappes,
That flyppes and flappes ;
It wygges and it wagges,
Lyke tawny saffron bagges ;
A sorte of foule drabbes
All scuruy with scabbes :
Some be flybytten,
Some skewed as a kytten ;
Some wyth a sho clout
Bynde theyr heddes about ;
Some haue no herelace,
Theyr lockes about theyr face,
Theyr tresses vntrust,
All full of vnlust ;
Some loke strawry,
Some cawry mawry ;
Full vntydy tegges,
Lyke rotten egges.
Suche lewde sorte
Eo Elynour resorte
From tyde to tyde :
Abyde, abyde,
And to you shall be tolde
Howe hyr ale is solde
To Mawte and to Molde.

Secundus Passus

Some haue no mony
That thyder commy,
For theyr ale to pay,
That is a shreud aray ;
Elynour swered, Nay,
Ye shall not beare away
My ale for nought,
By hym that me bought !
With, Hey, dogge, hay,
Haue these hogges away !
With, Get me a staffe,
The swyne eate my draffe !
Stryke the hogges with a clubbe,
They haue dronke vp my swyllynge tubbe !
For, be there neuer so much prese,
These swyne go to the hye dese,
The sowe with her pygges ;
The bore his tayle wrygges,
His rumpe also he frygges
Agaynst the hye benche !
With, Fo, ther is a stenche !
Gather vp, thou wenche ;
Seest thou not what is fall ?
Take vp dyrt and all,
And bere out of the hall :
God gyue it yll preuynge
Clenly as yuell cheuynge !
But let vs turne playne,
There we lefte agayne.
For, as yll a patch as that,
The hennes ron in the mashfat ;
For they go to roust
Streyght ouer the ale ioust,
And donge, whan it commes,
In the ale tunnes.
Than Elynour taketh
The mashe bolle, and shaketh
The hennes donge away,
And skommeth it into a tray
Whereas the yeest is,
With her maungy fystis :
And somtyme she blennes
The donge of her hennes
And the ale together ;
And sayeth, Gossyp, come hyther,
This ale shal be thycker,
And flowre the more quicker ;
For I may tell you,
I lerned it of a Jewe,
Whan I began to brewe,
And I haue founde it trew ;
Drinke now whyle it is new ;
And ye may it broke,
It shall make you loke
Yonger than ye be
Yeres two or thre,
For ye may proue it by me ;
Beholde, she sayde, and se
How bryght I am of ble !
Ich am not cast away,
That can my husband say,
Whan we kys and play
In lust and in lykyng ;
He calleth me his whytyng,
His mullyng and his mytyng,
His nobbes and his conny,
His swetyng and his honny,
With, Bas, my prety bonny,
Thou art worth good and monny.
This make I my falyre fonny,
Til that he dreme and dronny ;
For, after all our sport,
Than wyll he rout and snort ;
Than swetely together we ly,
As two pygges in a sty.
To cese me semeth best,
And of this tale to rest,
And for to leue this letter,
Because it is no better,
And because it is no swetter ;
We wyll no farther ryme
Of it at this tyme ;
But we wyll turne playne
Where we left agayne.

Tertius passus

Instede of coyne and monny,
Some brynge her a conny,
And some a pot with honny,
Some a salt, and some a spone,
Some theyr hose, some theyr shone ;
Some ran a good trot
With a skellet or a pot ;
Some fyll theyr pot full
Of good Lemster woll :
An huswyfe of trust,
Whan she is athrust,
Suche a webbe can spyn,
Her thryft is full thyn.
Some go streyght thyder,
Be it slaty or slyder ;
They holde the hye waye,
They care not what men say,
Be that as be maye ;
Some, lothe to be espyde,
Start in at the backe syde,
Ouer the hedge and pale,
And all for the good ale.
Some renne tyll they swete,
Brynge wyth them malte or whete,
And dame Elynour entrete
To byrle them of the best.
Than cometh an other gest ;
She swered by the rode of rest,
Her lyppes are so drye,
Without drynke she must dye ;
Therefore fyll it by and by,
And haue here a pecke of ry.
Anone cometh another,
As drye as the other,
And wyth her doth brynge
Mele, salte, or other thynge,
Her harvest gyrdle, her weddynge rynge,
To pay for her scot
As cometh to her lot.
Som bryngeth her husbandes hood,
Because the ale is good ;
Another brought her his cap
To offer to the ale tap,
Wyth flaxe and wyth towe ;
And some brought sowre dowe ;
Wyth, Hey, and wyth, howe,
Syt we downe a rowe,
And drynke tyll we blowe,
And pype tyrly tyrlowe !
Some layde to pledge
Theyr hatchet and theyr wedge,
Theyr hekell and theyr rele,
Theyr rocke, theyr spynnyng whele ;
And some went so narrowe,
They layde to pledge theyr wharrowe,
Theyr rybskyn and theyr spyndell,
Theyr nedell and theyr thymbell :
Here was scant thryft
Whan they made suche shyft.
Theyr thrust was so great,
They asked neuer for mete,
But drynke, styll drynke,
And let the cat wynke,
Let vs washe our gommes
From the drye crommes.

Quartus Passus

Some for very nede
Layde downe a skeyne of threde,
And some brought from the barne
Both benes and pease ;
Small chaffer doth ease
Sometyme, now and than :
Another there was that ran
With a good brasse pan ;
Her colour was full wan ;
She ran in all the hast
Vnbrased and vnlast ;
Tawny, swart, and sallowe,
Lyke a cake of tallowe ;
I swere by all hallow,
It was a stale to take
The deuyll in a brake.
And than came haltyng Jone,
And brought a gambone
Of bacon that was resty :
But, Lorde, as she was testy,
Angry as a waspy !
She began to yane and gaspy,
And bad Elynour go bet,
And fyll in good met ;
It was dere that was farre fet.
Another brought a spycke
Of a bacon flycke ;
her tonge was verye quycke,
But she spake somwhat thycke :
her felow did stammer and stut,
But she was a foule slut,
For her mouth fomyd
And her bely groned :
Jone sayne she had eaten a fyest ;
By Christ, sayde she, thou lyest,
I haue as swete a breth
As thou, wyth shamfull deth !
Than Elynour sayde, Ye callettes,
I shall breake your palettes,
Wythout ye now cease !
And so was made the peace.
Than thyder came dronken Ales ;
And she was full of tales,
Of tydynges in Wales,
And of sainct James in Gales,
And of the Portyngales ;
Wyth, Lo, gossyp, I wys,
Thus and thus it is,
There hath ben great war
Betwene Temple Bar
And the Crosse in Chepe,
And there came an hepe
Of mylstones in a route :
She speketh thus in her snout,
Sneuelyng in her nose,
As thoughe she had the pose ;
Lo, here is an olde typpet,
And ye wyll gyue me a syppet
Of your stale ale,
God sende you good sale !
And as she was drynkynge,
She fyll in a wynkynge
Wyth a barlyhood,
She pyst where she stood ;
Than began she to wepe,
And forthwyth fell on slepe.
Elynour toke her vp,
And blessed her wyth a cup
Of newe ale in cornes ;
Ales founde therin no thornes,
But supped it vp at ones,
She founde therin no bones.

Quintus Passus



Quod Skelton, Laureat.

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I couldn't find the button to select "Silly". Does that make me dumb, or stupid?

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It is a truism that almost any sect, cult, or religion will legislate its creed into law if it acquires the political power to do so. Robert A. Heinlein


09 Jetta TDI
1985 300D

Yes.

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what a loaded question

Dumb - lacking intelligence or good judgment; stupid; dull-witted.

Stupid - tediously dull, esp. due to lack of meaning or sense; inane; pointless:

Somebody's loaded,that's for *****sure........

__________________

Life is full of difficult choices.

__________________
-Marty

1986 300E 220,000 miles+ transmission impossible
(Now waiting under a bridge in order to become one)

Reading your M103 duty cycle:
http://www.peachparts.com/shopforum/showpost.php?p=831799&postcount=13
http://www.peachparts.com/shopforum/showpost.php?p=831807&postcount=14

Ah, well, now I feel a lot better knowing that I am not the only one.

__________________
It is a truism that almost any sect, cult, or religion will legislate its creed into law if it acquires the political power to do so. Robert A. Heinlein


09 Jetta TDI
1985 300D

All great deeds and all great thoughts have a ridiculous beginning. Great works are often born on a street corner or in a restaurant's revolving door. -Camus

__________________
-Marty

1986 300E 220,000 miles+ transmission impossible
(Now waiting under a bridge in order to become one)

Reading your M103 duty cycle:
http://www.peachparts.com/shopforum/showpost.php?p=831799&postcount=13
http://www.peachparts.com/shopforum/showpost.php?p=831807&postcount=14

nah.. just bored to death