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The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87660 on: January 06, 2018, 03:14:52 PM »
It had been a long, hot day and the Snoopy phone wasn't exactly ringing off the hook.  I was just polishing  off the rest of my bottle of boiler gin when she walked in.  She had legs, those kind of legs that started at the ankle, didn't differentiate at the calf, then slowly worked their way up to the thighs.   Cottage cheese.

She approached my desk smelling of two for a dollar smell well and snickers bars.  She sneered at me and sarcastically told me not to get up.  I hadn't planned to.

I sat there, in a fog that would make London proud. Eventually she got up and started poking at me to see if I was awake.

Detective?  Detective?  She kept poking me with a short, fat, blunt instrument, her finger.

"aaah!' I spit out, "Food!" I saw her looking around for something to stuff in my face. A forgotten donut was there, sitting away from my grasp like an idea. She took hold of it and stuffed it into my mouth then took a few steps back while hiding a look of horror. "Okay, so now that I have some energy for the next ten minutes, you can let me know what you're here for. Also, are you lactating?"

"Excuse me," she asked.

"Uh..never mind."

Now, I had seen the legs, but as I was coming out of my well-oiled stupor, I took in the whole vision.  A short, rotund woman in a mustard yellow moo moo, savagely cut to a shorter length, was trying to get my attention.  I swallowed the musty, mummified remains of the donut, wishing I had one more belt of gin to wash it down.

"Yes, Ma'am...uh...sorry, the secretary is out this afternoon. " The fact is, I hadn't hired one on account of low funds.   

"Uh, won't you please sit down?  I'd offer you a beverage but we're fresh out as it were.  Uh, what brings you in on such a hot day?" She looked around for a place to sit and looked quite perplexed before saying politely, "I'll stand"
"Now then," she began. "My boyfriend seems to be missing." "There was some unexplained phenomena at the time so that is why I came to you...are you going to finish that donut?"

"Uh...no...by all means."  I scooted the donut which sat on a stained napkin toward her.  She shoved it all into her mouth and began to chew.  I felt a little of the contents of my stomach begin to rise in my throat, as imagined the donut had a rather stiff hint of boiler gin breathed into it.

The though occurred to me that the boyfriend wasn't missing at all, but was rather hiding someplace. 

The thought also occurred to me that I was naked from the waist down. Business had been slow recently, and after getting up at the crack of noon today I had neglected to pull on my form-fitting business shorts. While my client was busily slapping away a few rats, that had emerged from my home office/couch in quest of donut crumbs, I grabbed Pancake (one of my beloved kitties) and placed her over my groin. I am a private dick, not a public one.

The dulcet tones of a familiar tune came over my renewed subscribed streaming radio app. I'd had to grift especially hard, but secured the necessary $40 by saying it would go to starving Norwegians or somesuch.. My favourite! Fish mouths for Dinner's classic 'Don't ram it in so hard bitch.' Three of the founding members had broken away from the original line up (Fish heads for breakfast) who had modest success, having had four top forty hits, including the acoustic/thrash metal/reggae/ three part harmony floor filler 'You think that's disgusting? Watch this'. held at number two for three weeks by that queen of smooch, Barry Manilow with 'I can't smile without you'. For reasons I couldn't fathom, Kathy wasn't impressed.

Ah, Kathy, my beloved Kathleen.  It had only been three weeks since she left me for Randall Venice. 

"Uh...'scuse me, ma'am, while I take a couple more moments to compose myself."  I attempted to open my desk drawer to retrieve a note pad, but it was stuck!..  It was full to the brim with knickknacks I had acquired at the 99 Cent Store (TM). 

As I fiddled about with the drawer, Pancake became agitated, got up to re-position herself, and started doing that thing that cats often do.  She began to knead my lap, perhaps thinking it was too lumpy.

Kneading is an instinct left over from kittenhood, where the kitten would massage mother's mammary glands to increase milk flow while suckling on the hind teats.  I felt Pancake's claws intermittently pierce my bare scrotum.  In the back of my mind, I pictured Kathleen pushing pins into the crotch of a voodoo doll three cities away, all at the pleasure of Randall Venice.

The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87661 on: January 06, 2018, 03:17:19 PM »
The dulcet tones of a familiar tune came over my renewed subscribed streaming radio app. I'd had to grift especially hard, but secured the necessary $40 by saying it would go to starving Norwegians or somesuch.. My favourite! Fish mouths for Dinner's classic 'Don't ram it in so hard bitch.' Three of the founding members had broken away from the original line up (Fish heads for breakfast) who had modest success, having had four top forty hits, including the acoustic/thrash metal/reggae/ three part harmony floor filler 'You think that's disgusting? Watch this'. held at number two for three weeks by that queen of smooch, Barry Manilow with 'I can't smile without you'. For reasons I couldn't fathom, Kathy wasn't impressed.


The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87662 on: January 06, 2018, 03:19:22 PM »
We ask the same about Americans. And their propensity to remove vowels in English words. Fillet doesn't have a silent t.. A boot isn't a trunk, and it's speciality pronounced speci-ality NOT specshulty. I'm glad we got that sorted out.


Don't even get him started on Aluminum and garage.



The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87663 on: January 06, 2018, 03:21:46 PM »
We elected Trump to take care of foreigners (you), sodomites (also you), and sluts with small tits who are uncooperative (Ibby, but could also be you). 



Still thinking about my tits?


The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87664 on: January 06, 2018, 03:24:51 PM »
I imagine he has a bidet but only uses it for sexual gratification.

Home enemas are so underrated.

Falkie's eye update video
« Reply #87665 on: January 06, 2018, 03:28:07 PM »
You are the best paladin. Most Marines like you are AWESOME.

Damon, all joking aside, didn't you use to do search and rescue? That's pretty bad ass.

The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87666 on: January 06, 2018, 04:06:26 PM »
Still thinking about my tits?

As you said, that ship has sailed.  A tramp steamer, wasn't it?

The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87667 on: January 06, 2018, 04:07:50 PM »
Maybe you could just try a bit harder and work at a glory hole! The pay is "eternity!" Sweet, tangy eternity!

Isn't that cute?  It's just like a Jackstar, except smaller.

The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87668 on: January 06, 2018, 04:43:14 PM »
George and "hard boiled?"  Isn'r George kind of pink and soft?

I would love to read it.

It had been a long, hot day and the phone wasn't exactly ringing off the hook.  I polished off the rest of my bottle of boiler gin when she walked in.  She had legs, those kind of legs that started at the ankle, didn't differentiate at the calf, then slowly worked their way up to the thighs.   Cottage cheese.
Thanks for that.  What is at the top of the thighs?  Cottage  cheese (and, presumably, a bleeding Cooter.)  Years ago I milked out a cow that died of mastitis a few days later (part of the treatment in addition to antibiotics.)  The curdled, lumpy rotting milk (cottage cheese) mixed with a bit of blood and oozing pus pretty much sums up the mental picture that your choice of words conjured up.  I think I'm going to wander to the washroom and purge now. Thanks.

The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87669 on: January 06, 2018, 05:33:28 PM »
A tramp steamer, wasn't it?

Don't be so hard on yourself.

Falkie's eye update video
« Reply #87670 on: January 06, 2018, 06:08:44 PM »
Damon, all joking aside, didn't you use to do search and rescue? That's pretty bad ass.
Thats is correct. I have flown with the Civil Air Patrol to do Search and Rescue. Its good to help people out.

The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87671 on: January 06, 2018, 06:32:38 PM »

here is an old video from about 11 months when falkie talks about his circle

The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87672 on: January 06, 2018, 06:34:16 PM »


here is other oldie but a goodie video

The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87673 on: January 06, 2018, 07:17:55 PM »

here is other oldie but a goodie video

“Can’t call now too busy with family will call you when I can. En’er... That’s, y’know, I don’t know how many words, I’m not gonna count ‘em.” -George

The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87674 on: January 06, 2018, 07:41:49 PM »
It had been a long, hot day and the Snoopy phone wasn't exactly ringing off the hook.  I was just polishing  off the rest of my bottle of boiler gin when she walked in.  She had legs, those kind of legs that started at the ankle, didn't differentiate at the calf, then slowly worked their way up to the thighs.   Cottage cheese.

She approached my desk smelling of two for a dollar smell well and snickers bars.  She sneered at me and sarcastically told me not to get up.  I hadn't planned to.

I sat there, in a fog that would make London proud. Eventually she got up and started poking at me to see if I was awake.

Detective?  Detective?  She kept poking me with a short, fat, blunt instrument, her finger.

"aaah!' I spit out, "Food!" I saw her looking around for something to stuff in my face. A forgotten donut was there, sitting away from my grasp like an idea. She took hold of it and stuffed it into my mouth then took a few steps back while hiding a look of horror. "Okay, so now that I have some energy for the next ten minutes, you can let me know what you're here for. Also, are you lactating?"

"Excuse me," she asked.

"Uh..never mind."

Now, I had seen the legs, but as I was coming out of my well-oiled stupor, I took in the whole vision.  A short, rotund woman in a mustard yellow moo moo, savagely cut to a shorter length, was trying to get my attention.  I swallowed the musty, mummified remains of the donut, wishing I had one more belt of gin to wash it down.

"Yes, Ma'am...uh...sorry, the secretary is out this afternoon. " The fact is, I hadn't hired one on account of low funds.   

"Uh, won't you please sit down?  I'd offer you a beverage but we're fresh out as it were.  Uh, what brings you in on such a hot day?" She looked around for a place to sit and looked quite perplexed before saying politely, "I'll stand"
"Now then," she began. "My boyfriend seems to be missing." "There was some unexplained phenomena at the time so that is why I came to you...are you going to finish that donut?"

"Uh...no...by all means."  I scooted the donut which sat on a stained napkin toward her.  She shoved it all into her mouth and began to chew.  I felt a little of the contents of my stomach begin to rise in my throat, as imagined the donut had a rather stiff hint of boiler gin breathed into it.

The though occurred to me that the boyfriend wasn't missing at all, but was rather hiding someplace. 

The thought also occurred to me that I was naked from the waist down. Business had been slow recently, and after getting up at the crack of noon today I had neglected to pull on my form-fitting business shorts. While my client was busily slapping away a few rats, that had emerged from my home office/couch in quest of donut crumbs, I grabbed Pancake (one of my beloved kitties) and placed her over my groin. I am a private dick, not a public one.

The dulcet tones of a familiar tune came over my renewed subscribed streaming radio app. I'd had to grift especially hard, but secured the necessary $40 by saying it would go to starving Norwegians or somesuch.. My favourite! Fish mouths for Dinner's classic 'Don't ram it in so hard bitch.' Three of the founding members had broken away from the original line up (Fish heads for breakfast) who had modest success, having had four top forty hits, including the acoustic/thrash metal/reggae/ three part harmony floor filler 'You think that's disgusting? Watch this'. held at number two for three weeks by that queen of smooch, Barry Manilow with 'I can't smile without you'. For reasons I couldn't fathom, Kathy wasn't impressed.

Ah, Kathy, my beloved Kathleen.  It had only been three weeks since she left me for Randall Venice. 

"Uh...'scuse me, ma'am, while I take a couple more moments to compose myself."  I attempted to open my desk drawer to retrieve a note pad, but it was stuck!..  It was full to the brim with knickknacks I had acquired at the 99 Cent Store (TM). 

As I fiddled about with the drawer, Pancake became agitated, got up to re-position herself, and started doing that thing that cats often do.  She began to knead my lap, perhaps thinking it was too lumpy.

Kneading is an instinct left over from kittenhood, where the kitten would massage mother's mammary glands to increase milk flow while suckling on the hind teats.  I felt Pancake's claws intermittently pierce my bare scrotum.  In the back of my mind, I pictured Kathleen pushing pins into the crotch of a voodoo doll three cities away, all at the pleasure of Randall Venice.

I didn't immediately realise what was happening, but then it dawned on me: It didn't worry me, I'd been there many times before and I had learned long ago just to sit there, roll my hips back a little and let my bladder empty. Sure, it would have been better in the long run to go to the shit spattered loo but if the evil inspectors ever came in and noticed I could blame Pancake for the indiscretion. I hadn't deliberately pissed myself, so how could I be blamed?

My thoughts flitted briefly back to the time Kathy had done similar on the BART and unknown to us, a man sitting across from us had seen the entire unleashing onto the seat and onto the floor. It was even more surprising that instead of being revolted, he gave his business card to Kathy and left the carriage. "Studs Ramrod--Exotic film maker for that special occasion" it read. With a phone number and e mail address. Kathy had smiled after I had read it out to her.

The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87675 on: January 06, 2018, 09:19:55 PM »
How are ol’ SnaggleTooth (TM) and SnagglePuss (TM) doing?

The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87676 on: January 06, 2018, 09:38:58 PM »


here is other oldie but a goodie video

Ahhhh, the "Good 'Ol Days" !!!

The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87677 on: January 06, 2018, 10:15:52 PM »

falkie bitches about his medical problems, bitches about meals on wheels, cat litter, and other problems.

The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87678 on: January 06, 2018, 11:52:44 PM »

falkie bitches about his medical problems, bitches about meals on wheels, cat litter, and other problems.

How did you miss the part where he sat in a chair and crushed it?

The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87679 on: January 07, 2018, 12:21:03 AM »
It had been a long, hot day and the Snoopy phone wasn't exactly ringing off the hook.  I was just polishing  off the rest of my bottle of boiler gin when she walked in.  She had legs, those kind of legs that started at the ankle, didn't differentiate at the calf, then slowly worked their way up to the thighs.   Cottage cheese.

She approached my desk smelling of two for a dollar smell well and snickers bars.  She sneered at me and sarcastically told me not to get up.  I hadn't planned to.

I sat there, in a fog that would make London proud. Eventually she got up and started poking at me to see if I was awake.

Detective?  Detective?  She kept poking me with a short, fat, blunt instrument, her finger.

"aaah!' I spit out, "Food!" I saw her looking around for something to stuff in my face. A forgotten donut was there, sitting away from my grasp like an idea. She took hold of it and stuffed it into my mouth then took a few steps back while hiding a look of horror. "Okay, so now that I have some energy for the next ten minutes, you can let me know what you're here for. Also, are you lactating?"

"Excuse me," she asked.

"Uh..never mind."

Now, I had seen the legs, but as I was coming out of my well-oiled stupor, I took in the whole vision.  A short, rotund woman in a mustard yellow moo moo, savagely cut to a shorter length, was trying to get my attention.  I swallowed the musty, mummified remains of the donut, wishing I had one more belt of gin to wash it down.

"Yes, Ma'am...uh...sorry, the secretary is out this afternoon. " The fact is, I hadn't hired one on account of low funds.   

"Uh, won't you please sit down?  I'd offer you a beverage but we're fresh out as it were.  Uh, what brings you in on such a hot day?" She looked around for a place to sit and looked quite perplexed before saying politely, "I'll stand"
"Now then," she began. "My boyfriend seems to be missing." "There was some unexplained phenomena at the time so that is why I came to you...are you going to finish that donut?"

"Uh...no...by all means."  I scooted the donut which sat on a stained napkin toward her.  She shoved it all into her mouth and began to chew.  I felt a little of the contents of my stomach begin to rise in my throat, as imagined the donut had a rather stiff hint of boiler gin breathed into it.

The though occurred to me that the boyfriend wasn't missing at all, but was rather hiding someplace. 

The thought also occurred to me that I was naked from the waist down. Business had been slow recently, and after getting up at the crack of noon today I had neglected to pull on my form-fitting business shorts. While my client was busily slapping away a few rats, that had emerged from my home office/couch in quest of donut crumbs, I grabbed Pancake (one of my beloved kitties) and placed her over my groin. I am a private dick, not a public one.

The dulcet tones of a familiar tune came over my renewed subscribed streaming radio app. I'd had to grift especially hard, but secured the necessary $40 by saying it would go to starving Norwegians or somesuch.. My favourite! Fish mouths for Dinner's classic 'Don't ram it in so hard bitch.' Three of the founding members had broken away from the original line up (Fish heads for breakfast) who had modest success, having had four top forty hits, including the acoustic/thrash metal/reggae/ three part harmony floor filler 'You think that's disgusting? Watch this'. held at number two for three weeks by that queen of smooch, Barry Manilow with 'I can't smile without you'. For reasons I couldn't fathom, Kathy wasn't impressed.

Ah, Kathy, my beloved Kathleen.  It had only been three weeks since she left me for Randall Venice. 

"Uh...'scuse me, ma'am, while I take a couple more moments to compose myself."  I attempted to open my desk drawer to retrieve a note pad, but it was stuck!..  It was full to the brim with knickknacks I had acquired at the 99 Cent Store (TM). 

As I fiddled about with the drawer, Pancake became agitated, got up to re-position herself, and started doing that thing that cats often do.  She began to knead my lap, perhaps thinking it was too lumpy.

Kneading is an instinct left over from kittenhood, where the kitten would massage mother's mammary glands to increase milk flow while suckling on the hind teats.  I felt Pancake's claws intermittently pierce my bare scrotum.  In the back of my mind, I pictured Kathleen pushing pins into the crotch of a voodoo doll three cities away, all at the pleasure of Randall Venice.

I didn't immediately realise what was happening, but then it dawned on me: It didn't worry me, I'd been there many times before and I had learned long ago just to sit there, roll my hips back a little and let my bladder empty. Sure, it would have been better in the long run to go to the shit spattered loo but if the evil inspectors ever came in and noticed I could blame Pancake for the indiscretion. I hadn't deliberately pissed myself, so how could I be blamed?

My thoughts flitted briefly back to the time Kathy had done similar on the BART and unknown to us, a man sitting across from us had seen the entire unleashing onto the seat and onto the floor. It was even more surprising that instead of being revolted, he gave his business card to Kathy and left the carriage. "Studs Ramrod--Exotic film maker for that special occasion" it read. With a phone number and e mail address. Kathy had smiled after I had read it out to her.

It was getting late; I needed my nap, the clock was edging its way to two pm. Kathy, resplendent in her black T shirt and flowery shorts that stretched down past her flabby knees to mid shin turned slightly and the sunlight carving through the slits in the blinds highlighted the soft pillow inducing purple/yellow bruising on her temples, cheeks and forehead. I had never really got to the bottom of why that happened. Whatever the real reason, it gave her a kind of unique presence in polite company that oddly made her friends and strangers alike stare with concern, but never quite articulate their feelings and questions on the matter.

I settled back into the urine dampened mattress and gestured to Kathy to make sure the door was closed securely to keep out the noise and make sure the imprisoned cats had enough wet food and water. With that, my head fell back, I took off my soon to be redundant glasses, and thought of Starbucks and its free wi fi and the big breasted school girls who frequented it. Sadly twitchy was fast asleep, but I knew things might waken later after my nap.

The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87680 on: January 07, 2018, 02:34:36 AM »
The evening was rainy and dark.  Dark like those people in the ER waiting room after the unfortunate event with my knee.  At least those folks had the good sense to move away when I howled in pain.  Here the night just closed in around me.  It was near the end of the month and I just spent the last of my money on props for a haul video.  There was none left for my electricity bill.  Fortunately I had the foresight to buy some mayo so I could try to get “lucky”.

At least it was fairly quiet tonight.  The weather kept the fighting couple below me inside.  I could barely hear the woman yelling at her man.  That guy really needs to show his woman who’s boss.  I’ve got eight slugs in me, one is lead and in my knee, the rest are for uppity dames.  Perhaps I should visit him, maybe give him some written advice on how to handle his woman.

This pleasant thought was interrupted by a knock at the door.  I doubted it was opportunity, that usually gave me a wide berth, like normal folks do winos and grifters.  “Hmmm”, I mused.  I know I had paid my pawnshop loans before I went on my Bacchanal to the dollar store.  My knees were singing that ABBA song my close personal friend Art Bell used to play during his show, before he quit.  Hell, he quit his shows more often then I quit SewerGab. 

My reverie was interrupted again by a knock on the door.  I shuffled to it, suppressing screams of pain, hoping it was Abram so I could do a live show on You Tube on his channel.  Somehow my dead whore of a mom contacted You Tube and said I attack people on my shows.  I do not, I only go after those who deserve it.  Anyhow, You Tube listened to my detractors.  Those fuckers banned me.  Instead, my eyes were assaulted by a short squat figure, resplendent in a monochrome muumuu.  It was cut short, just the way I like my stints at work, to reveal well fatted thighs purchased precariously upon massive cankles.  It was Kathy.  I needed this like I needed advice from the folks at SewerGab.  Good thing my seven shooter was loaded.

To be continued...

The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87681 on: January 07, 2018, 08:01:56 AM »
The evening was rainy and dark.  Dark like those people in the ER waiting room after the unfortunate event with my knee.  At least those folks had the good sense to move away when I howled in pain.  Here the night just closed in around me.  It was near the end of the month and I just spent the last of my money on props for a haul video.  There was none left for my electricity bill.  Fortunately I had the foresight to buy some mayo so I could try to get “lucky”.

At least it was fairly quiet tonight.  The weather kept the fighting couple below me inside.  I could barely hear the woman yelling at her man.  That guy really needs to show his woman who’s boss.  I’ve got eight slugs in me, one is lead and in my knee, the rest are for uppity dames.  Perhaps I should visit him, maybe give him some written advice on how to handle his woman.

This pleasant thought was interrupted by a knock at the door.  I doubted it was opportunity, that usually gave me a wide berth, like normal folks do winos and grifters.  “Hmmm”, I mused.  I know I had paid my pawnshop loans before I went on my Bacchanal to the dollar store.  My knees were singing that ABBA song my close personal friend Art Bell used to play during his show, before he quit.  Hell, he quit his shows more often then I quit SewerGab. 

My reverie was interrupted again by a knock on the door.  I shuffled to it, suppressing screams of pain, hoping it was Abram so I could do a live show on You Tube on his channel.  Somehow my dead whore of a mom contacted You Tube and said I attack people on my shows.  I do not, I only go after those who deserve it.  Anyhow, You Tube listened to my detractors.  Those fuckers banned me.  Instead, my eyes were assaulted by a short squat figure, resplendent in a monochrome muumuu.  It was cut short, just the way I like my stints at work, to reveal well fatted thighs purchased precariously upon massive cankles.  It was Kathy. I needed this like I needed advice from the folks at SewerGab. Good thing my seven shooter was loaded.

To be continued...

That's a good line, I like it.  I might use that in the future sometime if you don't mind...

The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87682 on: January 07, 2018, 08:57:52 AM »
That's a good line, I like it.  I might use that in the future sometime if you don't mind...
Help yourself.

The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87683 on: January 07, 2018, 11:35:00 AM »
https://www.rt.com/usa/415224-florida-frozen-iguana-attack/
why isn't the Mighty George Senda aka a newsman ;D covering this topic. Iguanas attacking people after being frozen? WTF George. People gotta knows more about this global warming stuff that Al Gore was talking about. :o ;D ;D ::) ::)

A shocking topic that George Senda is not covering on GNN George's news network
« Reply #87684 on: January 07, 2018, 11:37:34 AM »
https://www.rt.com/usa/414602-florida-electrocute-pregnant-wife-door/
Here is other shocking topic that George is not covering.

A shocking topic that George Senda is not covering on GNN George's news network
« Reply #87685 on: January 07, 2018, 05:59:58 PM »
https://www.rt.com/usa/414602-florida-electrocute-pregnant-wife-door/
Here is other shocking topic that George is not covering.

Damon please give George a break!  He is after all recovering from surgery.  Geesh.

A shocking topic that George Senda is not covering on GNN George's news network
« Reply #87686 on: January 07, 2018, 06:18:32 PM »
Damon please give George a break!  He is after all recovering from surgery.  Geesh.

Actually Queenie that would be a great story for George to cover in a video.

Amps kill not the voltage.. In other words, electricity's effect on the body depends on the specific path the current takes through the body and on the individual characteristics of a person's body. A very large amount of current can kill a person simply by cooking the insides. A smaller amount of current can kill a person if it flows directly through the heart or central nervous system. The amount of water and fat insulation in the body factor in here.

A shocking topic that George Senda is not covering on GNN George's news network
« Reply #87687 on: January 08, 2018, 12:55:56 AM »
Damon please give George a break!  He is after all recovering from surgery.  Geesh.
Queenie, This will give George something to talk about plus if he does videos, he would not be thinking about his eye and then his eye would heal more quickly.

A shocking topic that George Senda is not covering on GNN George's news network
« Reply #87688 on: January 08, 2018, 01:00:21 AM »
Damon please give George a break!  He is after all recovering from surgery.  Geesh.

And a horribly painful surgery to boot! And the poor old fella has to have it done again in his other eye!
We should all pool together and send George a giant get well box full of special goodies that will make poor old sick George a happy camper!

Yeah, that's the ticket....

The General Musings of Falkie2013 (AKA George Senda, The Guy From Pittsburgh)
« Reply #87689 on: January 08, 2018, 02:07:34 AM »
We came, we saw, we conquered their hearts and minds. George was a hardened killer.