Draught Excluder Snake Pattern

Superblogger superploblemi

Few people in the world can be said to possess a superpower. Of those few, even less are not crazy mythomaniac who have read too many superhero comics.

Some have the superpower of the trumpet all the women who just shot the captain waving his wallet.
There are those who can stop time with a joke (no joke, my friend we could really).
There are those who can accurately predict the winner of an election simply by looking at who the candidates (in Italy it's easy).
Some people can make their dog shit exactly at the point where someone will rest the foot sheathed in new shoes.
There are those who can make credible their bullshit simply owning 99% of TV channels.

But these are all trivial superpowers. Just my superpower is a real curse .

I alone I can kill a fictional character simply choosing him as my favorite.

beginning, when I was little, unconsciously and do not exercise that power if we did too. In the nebulous memories of early life stands a figure with whom I had what I later learned to call quickie: I remember it well because it was the first time that I began to ask me questions.
It's this guy here:

E 'Sven, one of the pilots lions were going to join in robottoni Voltron. lasted about 4 episodes, during which I thought was very cool. Then he was seriously injured and disappeared, replaced by a chick with the pink jumpsuit, however, led the blue lion. Bitch.
Sven is not really dead. I suppose in those days my superpower was not fully developed .
The second manifestation of my superpower remember was when I read a novel titled "The Paul Street Boys." He spoke of a group of young people living in Hungary, playing in the street until they made a real war with a ball of mud against another gang, the "redcoats" for possession of a square where play . In Hungary there is obviously a great culture of playgrounds in the city, if the children are forced to take a sledgehammer to the few that are there. That time when I tried to, after about two chapters, elected to the smallest favorite character of the band, this Nemecsek, loser, misunderstood and even sickly. Because I had not chosen Boka, the charismatic foreman?
Maybe because I have always been the charismatic foreman run balls.
However, in this spectacular children's novel, that's the end Nemecseck crack his captain by heroically saving .....
from ...
from ...
a lot of mud balls .

He spent some time before in my life ever burst the Knights of the Zodiac. Everyone likes to Sirius, the man's view given that the light bulb turns on and off with a simple click, Phoenix or the sadist, who showed his love for his brother by filling it with heavy blows. I liked Crysta l, in the early episodes seemed to be the strongest of all, cool, confident. Obviously it was the first to die ignominiously (then came to life only at the cost of one night of passion with Andromeda).

Finally the full awareness of my terrible superpower caught me when reading the Lord of the Rings, I said to myself: "what I like Boromir!" From then
then the list of those who died because of me leaned dangerously. Obi Wan Kenobi , Toki of Ken (but there does not count, that if you were not Ken, morivi sure), Charlie of Lost , Rutger Hauer in Blade Runner , Flint in Dragonlance , Smerdjiakov in Karamazov, Sirius Black, Eddie in It , Rorscach in Watchmen, slut bitch, eg rsini Lion King Mufasa in .

you name one, was definitely my favorite. Probably
think that this superpower is useless. I thought so too until this morning.
When I discovered the existence of this .
hope that my cartoonist to retain a copy ....

Feeling Dizzy After 10 Min Run

with The Society of Sten, Chapter 2: Good against Evil Apocalypse


I think there we forget, right? But the Society of Sten back with the second chapter of his amazing adventures. For if those who were lost here can find the previous chapter. Happy reading!

A Nest only one person remembered because the forest that surrounded the village from three sides, touching the borders as a green sea, was called the Howling Woods. The inhabitants, as we have seen, was ultimately a mass of ignorant lemmings that when a child is ill with chickenpox, he thought the best way to cure it was to remove the edge of the blade parts of the skin where the concentration of bubbles .* It was most noticeable was the kind of people would begin to split hairs, in fact. Therefore if a forest is called the Howling Woods, the reason can only be one: that is full of howling beasts. That was certainly true.
fact is that the person who knew the history of Howling Forest Thurg the surgeon's name. ** Exercising a profession so important and profitable *** Thurg had lived a life of comfort and shelter misfortunes that happen to lemmings usually ignorant, and had arrived at the venerable age of 98 played. The only resident of Eagle's Nest Leoril older than he was. When she was 15, Thurg went camping with his brother in what was then called the peaceful woods at the time of planting stakes, a hammer Thurg gave full inch to his brother, who shouted in reply, his voice made tenor of pain, "Porco Silvanuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuus."
who passed these parts heard only the U, and hence the new name of the Wood. The news quickly made the rounds of the surrounding countryside, until it reached the ears of a pack of wolves old retired who thought it best to go and die in an appropriately named Bosco.
Thus the Quiet Woods became the Howling Woods and was populated by wolves, who wanted no more respectable bunch. Among the wolves had become a way of saying: "It is going to the Woods Howling" meant that the wolf was at least 3 of the 4 legs in the pit: and in most cases, in Howling Forest was really there.

Our intrepid Company Sten soon realized that starting the search at sunset is never a good idea. It means that parts of tired, and you never come a long way.
"where the tracks lead?" Sten asked to Pasgal, who was leaning with professional air about a lot of footsteps.
" The ports of shoes? " Pasgal asked, raising his head.
" 49 " said Sten Piedefino " why? "
" because it's about half an hour that we follow your own footprints " sighed Pasgal. " I had mistaken for those of orcs ."
Leoril began to whimper. Not that there was a special reason: the elves always whine at sunset. But others interpreted it as a sign that it was time to make camp.
Sten picked up the twigs and lit a small fire. Since I began to dream of putting up her company in Ventura, then waited more than any other time of the camp, according to its perfect Adventurer's Handbook, Third Edition, now take the form of greater aggregation of the group, in which one tells stories of men in front of a kid browning on the stove. Sten was invented out of whole cloth five stories by men, and was reviewed in mind when he realized, from annoying snoring, that his companions had taken his silence as a tacit consent to the question "do you do the first watch? ". Sten
So he found himself alone, and took the opportunity to invent stories from seven other men. Luckily he never had the chance to tell her that night: the fact manual did not specify that the term "History of Men" does not necessarily imply a scene of wild sex.
The round passed idly and woke Leoril Sten.
"Success anything? " asked Leoril stripicciandosi eyes.
"Nothing at all " answers Sten throwing lying. He fell asleep instantly, beginning to dream of a History of Men extremely foul involving three women, one of which, unfortunately, was cross-eyed elf.
Leoril proved not to have well understood the concept of "watch" when, bored, woke Pasgal first time for a chat.
" What's happening? " asked Pasgal sat up.
" No, I wanted to have a chat .... " he said, stopping when he noticed that the lightning came half-closed eyes of Pasgal. " I mean ... I heard footsteps muffled. "
Leoril Although he had lied, if indeed he had been listening to, the steps he would have felt really plush. Five wolves were closer to the blaze. There were five wolves retired, as usual Howling of the Wood: the old, rickety and toothless. Like all pensioners, not just something unusual happens, they came out of curiosity. Mass. The life of pensioner is boring.
Leoril had always boasted of his affinity with the animal world. A Nest had made a reputation because he could make a dog drool just a little bell ringing. The dog became an attraction Leoril motion that the life of the Eagle's Nest for a few weeks before he died of starvation. Thus, believed to play exactly the look listless and bored of the wolves when he cried shrilly:
"THEY WANT torn in pieces "
Pasgal he trusted Leoril and drew his sword, causing that effect domino that clerics of Knell, the god of War, had called the Iraq-effect: there is nothing better than violence to stoke a thirst for blood of your enemy. The wolves were heard bubbling guts: after those three human seemed very awake. They would have showed it to all who were still able to tear someone like the old days. Sten
When he opened his eyes and saw Leoril climbed a tree that throws a magic missile barrage, while Pasgal if he saw her with a pack of wolves mighty angry and ready for anything. He put his hand on his sword and lunged howling in turn. Cornelius
watched the scene with his distinctive look chewing cattle. He felt a great pain for those wolves that were mowed horribly decrepit three invasive menavano slashing blindly.
"The good has won!" Sten finally shouted raising his sword, his face covered with blood from the old muddy consistency.
"Look at this " said Pasgal examining what remained of the battered body of gray fur, the heroic wolf in his youth had saved a village of children defending alone by a horde of hungry Gnoll. "This was just the face bad " she continued raising her head carved out by the scars of that ancient battle.
" Staccagliela and give it to me here," said Sten " make a good impression on our fireplace "
" We do, we go back to sleep? " asked Leoril down from the tree.
" the sun will rise, continue the walk, now I woke up! " concluded Pasgal. The Society of
Sten had survived its baptism of fire. That first real battle, over the years, become the stories of Sten epic battle against an army of barbarians clothes skins of wolf, but already Leoril, five minutes later, he was saying:
" If it were not for my magic missile, they would have overwhelmed! I have killed eight all by itself, and I know that one was a werewolf in my opinion ... "

* This explains why in the Eagle's Nest varicella was gone: it's called natural selection.
** A Nest, surgeons are called Hunters: it seems that the art of skinning skins served to cure chickenpox, herpes and acne iuvenilis.
*** The price for the removal of skin healing purposes varied depending on the amount of skin to be removed. For varicella in an advanced state it seems that the crowds had been paid digit: one cow, one horse, three eggs and a bunch of turnip greens.

the next chapter!

Drivers Creative Extigy Windows 7

Chronicles: oh but in Rome ....


My current work situation requires me, from time to time, to make completely unnecessary detour in our wonderful capital.
When I go to Rome I can never not think back to a named tedescone Otto III. This, Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, could sit quietly at his home in Germany to get his affairs, be the life of Emperor, and be concubines (we are in the tenth century AD). But he had a sore Rome. What's hard to explain, given that Rome in those years had become a real crap at its: the sewers, built by the Romans (and here we need a capital letter), now regurgitated crap everywhere and no one knew to fix it. The bridge collapsed and they were so bad that reduced c'avevano even a Bertolasum any that assigns jobs to his friends. The people, to build houses, because he did not know where to take materials easily disassembled the monuments of the Caesars (which is why the Coliseum is a sieve: Fuck them joints of iron that held together the bricks). Half the city was used as a pasture: the only professionals were whores. But
Brass could not help but love this city now, from caput mundi, became caput nihilo. So he could not help but go back on holiday whenever he could. Once the Romans promised that he would won the Hadrian's Villa, a beautiful residence remained miraculously intact in that the Tivoli, but then goes back on the offer, perhaps for fear that the Romans (lowercase letter) dismantle that, as the Barracks Fire brigade of Lego, to make us a couple of Lego Brothels.
Now, the Romans put up with everything, but that's not are prevented from removing a building . So took to the streets and surrounded the palace of Otto, that poor man did not own a television and had to miss how he could defend himself. He looked desperately to the window, glanced at the angry Romans who demanded his head, and fired a monstrous pistolotto on how much he loved the city, how you would bring to its former glory, that he was an Emperor Worker.
Now, imagine what the fuck could hear all the Romans his talk at the time that there were not microphones. Probably only saw a blond guy standing at the window that moved her lips and pointed to the leaders of the revolt.
The Romans really like the guys who speak on the balconies. So
lynch-insurgency leaders, who would probably accept it willingly. I mean, he had said a guy on the balcony: I'm ready to bet that it would be lynched by themselves.

Well, I do not know if it has something to do, but this image of Rome is the one that haunts me every time I get off the train, and immerse myself in the Roman crowd.
Rule number one: never get an enemy who speaks from a balcony .
The Romans are people deeply immersed in its history. They may not know who was Leo I (who drove Attila speaking from a balcony fake) may have no idea who he was Caesar (who had no balconies on the day he was stabbed). But feel at a subliminal level, to be heirs of something big.
type that when you arrive in Rome and it's raining, you're concerned about getting time the meeting place, and ask around in 45 minutes if you can do by taking public transportation.
And all you say, "eh, it rains in Rome when the traffic doubles."
"But I take the bus that runs every 12 minutes, I should do it!"
"yeah, but Rome's bus pass when they want them."
"all right, take a taxi, hoping to pay as little as possible"
"yeah, but in Rome taxis cost a lot."

I climb into the taxi. The driver starts the meter and 2-euro something.
"yeah, but Rome is the base rate when starting from Termini," he says.
"Patience" I say. "I have to go away so and so, you know?"
"yeah, but in Rome is impossible to know all the streets. "It opens Tuttocittà.

Gambling timidly to tell the driver that I come from Naples, in Naples and also when it rains there is more traffic, the buses do as they like, and taxi drivers are thieves and the city is great.
"eh, not in Rome but can you imagine how much".

coming back to the Termini station, this time with the bus, look around. There's a lot of people do about his business and looks at you in the face.
while waiting for a train traveling gives me an umbrella to 2 €, I refuse politely.
then begins to rain, and another walking gives me the same umbrella to 10 €. Here is a super Bignami economy.
I a walk with the nose: there you see the altar of the Fatherland, and to my right there are the Baths of Diocletian, which has been converted into a church designed by Michelangelo. The most surprising thing about these Romans are passing in front of all these good things and there not even throw a glance . At best, we throw an empty plastic bottle. And suddenly I understand
Otto III. The inexplicable feeling that even if you are the Emperor of the Galaxy, even if you're from New York and you are a Warrior of the Night in Rome you'll always feel a provincial. Why " eh, but in Rome ... " means, " here in this city, have happened so many things of global importance, that I miss the know, and I do not give a shit to know them, but happened here, and tell us a safe and discover that happened here, or even if it has not happened here, then if happened here would have been better. Because these streets we walked a lot of people in history, and we came up with so many things that I do not know, but there are the invented us. And even if it happened a thousand years ago, I still somehow got to do, and yet you do not. So I do not break my balls with Napoli, because here we are in Rome, and if you do not come from Rome, you're not a fucking .

And I silent under .

Then I take the train, and after a few miles, when in Rome do not just have a line on the horizon, I recover Dalo stunning and me angry. And I think back to Otto III.

Good Standing Per Dentisti

Isylea the comic 7

here we are back on the terrible land of Isylea .... terrible, at least, for the noobs!


And here we are with the Brain, by which we reach the 5 winners and we can finally proceed with the awards:
Gnarrk where that has led our poor noob?
Answer for you!