POL Politiek
Discussies en diepgaande gesprekken over de politiek in de breedste zin van het woord kun je hier voeren.
Dude, je eet te weinig sla.quote:Op zondag 14 augustus 2005 15:33 schreef Johan_de_With het volgende:
[..]
''Hallow'' is een werkwoord. Het is ofwel ''Hallow the Ori!'', of ''Hallowed are the Ori!''.
Cultuurbarbaarquote:Op zondag 14 augustus 2005 15:42 schreef Johan_de_With het volgende:
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Ik eet dan ook nooit of te nimmer Whoppers of Big Macs, dude.
maar een cultuurbarbaar is dan wel weer een specialistquote:Op zondag 14 augustus 2005 15:54 schreef Johan_de_With het volgende:
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Elke barbaar is een cultuurbarbaar.
Verdonk: we moet weer lachen om ons loonstrookje :')
Verdonk: niet links, ik ben niet rechts, maar recht door zee
journalist: niet scheel?
Verdonk: niet links, ik ben niet rechts, maar recht door zee
journalist: niet scheel?
Ik lijk weer op Balkenende.quote:Op zondag 14 augustus 2005 15:55 schreef Tafkahs het volgende:
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maar een cultuurbarbaar is dan wel weer een specialist
Jij weegt ook niet zoals _underworld 20 kilo te weinig.quote:Op zondag 14 augustus 2005 15:42 schreef Johan_de_With het volgende:
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Ik eet dan ook nooit of te nimmer Whoppers of Big Macs, dude.
quote:Op zondag 14 augustus 2005 15:57 schreef Finder_elf_towns het volgende:
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Jij weegt ook niet zoals _underworld 20 kilo te weinig.
En je haar beweegt niet als je praat
Verdonk: we moet weer lachen om ons loonstrookje :')
Verdonk: niet links, ik ben niet rechts, maar recht door zee
journalist: niet scheel?
Verdonk: niet links, ik ben niet rechts, maar recht door zee
journalist: niet scheel?
Nee, 30.quote:Op zondag 14 augustus 2005 15:57 schreef Finder_elf_towns het volgende:
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Jij weegt ook niet zoals _underworld 20 kilo te weinig.
De toekomst van de Nederlandse taal:
Door niet te reageren op diverse manieren van contact zoeken van de kant van de FA's ivm met haar afwezigheid, hebben we moeten besluiten dat dit geen werkbare situatie meer is.
De conclusie die we na verschillende mails dan ook hebben moeten trekken is dat MUUS niet langer crew wilde zijn, en dat is vanaf onze kant geen lichte of leuke beslissing geweest.
Door niet te reageren op diverse manieren van contact zoeken van de kant van de FA's ivm met haar afwezigheid, hebben we moeten besluiten dat dit geen werkbare situatie meer is.
De conclusie die we na verschillende mails dan ook hebben moeten trekken is dat MUUS niet langer crew wilde zijn, en dat is vanaf onze kant geen lichte of leuke beslissing geweest.
Ow Jah??quote:Op zondag 14 augustus 2005 15:57 schreef Finder_elf_towns het volgende:
[..]
Jij weegt ook niet zoals _underworld 20 kilo te weinig.
JaW, das eik ut enuge krietering.quote:Op zondag 14 augustus 2005 17:00 schreef RichardQuest het volgende:
Je begrijpt het toch?
Zeg 's wat over Osdorp Posse.quote:Op zondag 14 augustus 2005 17:06 schreef Johan_de_With het volgende:
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JaW, das eik ut enuge krietering.
Dat kan ik niet.quote:Op zondag 14 augustus 2005 17:09 schreef RichardQuest het volgende:
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Zeg 's wat over Osdorp Posse.
Nee aapje, teveel kennis voor het gewone volk is niet goed. Dan raak je teveel vermoeid.quote:Op zondag 14 augustus 2005 17:25 schreef Johan_de_With het volgende:
Ja, verblijd ons met een referaat over de almacht van de economie. Alsjeblieft.
The Invasion
Soon after the UAC opened its first Gate, the minions of Hell made their first attack. Suddenly, through the Gate flowed spiked, fanged, dripping techno-terrors. Meat machines flailed their armored limbs and slavered with bloodlust, seeking soft bleeding manflesh to rend. But in their seeking, they found only death. The United States Space Marine Corps was prepared for such an event, and they poured molten death into the hordes of Hell. More demons massed, hoping to overwhelm the defenders by their endless numbers. But mass alone was no match for the marines. Set up in defensive positions around the gate, the marines were able to slaughter
the monsters by the hundreds, taking few losses.
As suddenly as it had begun, the invasion ended. The last flaming skull screamed through, was hit by twenty simultaneous shotgun blasts, and the chamber was silent once more, except for the dripping of blood. Hell had failed.
The research went on, more boldly, and less cautiously. All the marines received the Silver Star from a grateful government, and the UAC made an enormous contribution to the Veteran's Fund. The defensive positions were strengthened, and the marines watched closely for another attempt, all their attention drawn inward towards the Gates. They were looking in the wrong direction.
The Rain of Monsters
Hell knew more than one trick. Months after the Gate incident, the yearly supply ship came ahead of time. On radar, the ship looked far larger than usual. And it was coming from the wrong direction. Strange, but not inexplicable. The lax radar operators reported the ship's approach, and personnel went out to the landing field to meet it. But it never landed. Instead, it hovered over the base, miles in the air. The men and women looked up at it, and saw that something was terribly wrong.
The ship could not have come from Earth. It was huge, kilometers long, and was built of bone, steel, flesh, corruption, and death. It was a bio-mechano-magical construct from the depths of Hell and It had come through space for its vengeance. Enormous doors, large as football fields, irised open and hideous demons poured out, plunging to the ground and blanketing the entire base with their throbbing, pulsing bodies. They were everywhere at once. The marines' defenses, set up to prevent an attack from the direction of the Gate, were worthless. The monsters poured through the sewers, the air vents, the hallways, everywhere, rampaging, corrupting, and feasting.
Once more, the surviving humans were left as zombified brain-dead monstrosities. existing only to kill and kill and kill.
Soon after the UAC opened its first Gate, the minions of Hell made their first attack. Suddenly, through the Gate flowed spiked, fanged, dripping techno-terrors. Meat machines flailed their armored limbs and slavered with bloodlust, seeking soft bleeding manflesh to rend. But in their seeking, they found only death. The United States Space Marine Corps was prepared for such an event, and they poured molten death into the hordes of Hell. More demons massed, hoping to overwhelm the defenders by their endless numbers. But mass alone was no match for the marines. Set up in defensive positions around the gate, the marines were able to slaughter
the monsters by the hundreds, taking few losses.
As suddenly as it had begun, the invasion ended. The last flaming skull screamed through, was hit by twenty simultaneous shotgun blasts, and the chamber was silent once more, except for the dripping of blood. Hell had failed.
The research went on, more boldly, and less cautiously. All the marines received the Silver Star from a grateful government, and the UAC made an enormous contribution to the Veteran's Fund. The defensive positions were strengthened, and the marines watched closely for another attempt, all their attention drawn inward towards the Gates. They were looking in the wrong direction.
The Rain of Monsters
Hell knew more than one trick. Months after the Gate incident, the yearly supply ship came ahead of time. On radar, the ship looked far larger than usual. And it was coming from the wrong direction. Strange, but not inexplicable. The lax radar operators reported the ship's approach, and personnel went out to the landing field to meet it. But it never landed. Instead, it hovered over the base, miles in the air. The men and women looked up at it, and saw that something was terribly wrong.
The ship could not have come from Earth. It was huge, kilometers long, and was built of bone, steel, flesh, corruption, and death. It was a bio-mechano-magical construct from the depths of Hell and It had come through space for its vengeance. Enormous doors, large as football fields, irised open and hideous demons poured out, plunging to the ground and blanketing the entire base with their throbbing, pulsing bodies. They were everywhere at once. The marines' defenses, set up to prevent an attack from the direction of the Gate, were worthless. The monsters poured through the sewers, the air vents, the hallways, everywhere, rampaging, corrupting, and feasting.
Once more, the surviving humans were left as zombified brain-dead monstrosities. existing only to kill and kill and kill.
De schier onbedwingbare nerditas van onze scriptief minder begaafde Erwin doet een n44b als ik steil achterover slaan.
Sorry mensen, ik kon het niet laten een stukje van de handleiding van Final DOOM te plaatsen. Uiteraard bewonder ik John Carmack.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Carmack
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Carmack
