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Dumped Nazi Gold in Stolpsee Lake
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Lost
- Hits: 2588
From the Mail Online, a group of unidentified German Businessman are about to attempt searching Stolpsee Lake in Northern Germany for Nazi Gold rumored to have been dumped there during WW2.
Link: Adventurers search for dumped Nazi gold worth a billion pounds in German lake
Update: Israeli scours German Lake for Jewish Gold and, more generally, other rumored Nazi Treasure Hoards: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/history/world-war-two/8689091/Nazi-looting-treasure-hunters-hope-to-turn-myths-into-reality.html
nephew (4)
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
- Hits: 1700
He has the best adventures, and regales us with them. Well.
He shouldn't have days off.
For example, the Stampede, $18.00 for a pack of mini-donuts (he counted 22) and $12.00 for a Budweiser beer.
I live vicariously through him, and am grateful for the savings.
Then there was the fight with his girlfriend, she ended by breaking a coffee table over his head, giant scars and lacerations all down his neck and back, the customers all commiserated, not understanding that in all likelihood it was the just desserts of his endless prevarications.
He's got scars now, permanent, they're long shiny pale ribbons that upon his tanned neck.
And, in another fight with her he's called the police, they know him now, know his name and his number, tell him they'll be a while, it's Stampede and they're busy, and so he sits upon a curb and waits their arrival.
While waiting he wants a cigarette, a couple of homosexuals nearby are waiting for a bus and smoking....
"Give me cigarette" he says, and the one looks him up and down before offering one in exchange for a kiss.
He's not in the mood, tells them to fuck off, go to hell, it ends with one of them looking on while the other lifts him by his hair for the kiss....
The police have a laugh at his misfortunes, they're sympathetic, he has that charm...
These stories, they're gold, he regales us with them over dinner, his uncle the boss merely looking on in horror, he doesn't know what to say.
at a cafe being served by
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1791
I'm at a cafe with (??) and we're being served by Sheryll. An old girlfriend, I didn't know she worked here but I'm pleasantly surprised, she's grown plumper, wearing a ridiculous white shirt with double bow ties hanging from the collar, we banter - momentarily - and then she tells me that if she'd wanted to she could have "sold out" or "sold herself" (I'm not sure which) a long time ago, then runs off to serve another table.
Now where we're sitting we can see the other waitresses, all dressed in fine lingerie, corsets and stockings, the way the restaurant is layed out they walk in circles, always away from us and so all I can see are their fine, plump asses wiggling as they walk on and around a corner...maybe this is what she means by 'sell out' - she's not wearing the uniform, I'm not sure...
This cafe, there are piles of books upon a rail just above the tables, and I can recognize many from my childhood...I read the author - Franklin W Dixon, and the titles, but the name of the series escapes me - one series by him entitled "The Good Samaritan" - that's not it, it's the Hardy brothers, or something like it - and as I look closer I can see that what I thought were the books of my childhood are simply books painted to look like the books of my childhood, although reading the titles brings back a flood of memories and I want to take some of them down and briefly relive them....
I'm making notes on this cafe, trying to describe it - "Probably targeting the Frat Boy set" I write, but everything I write comes out wrong, rude scribbles in my notebook that I can't decipher, it's as if I'm drunk and can't concentrate, focus...
Who woulda guessed?
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1981
No me, for sure. But sitting out late upon the patio the cat - fat, indolent cat that likes nothing better than to be rubbed and petted and snuggled, springs into action.
There's a flurry of paws and a moment later he has a mouse between his teeth. When he sets it upon the grass I see if it can be revived - the other cat brings her prey home alive (to be taken away and released by me) - this mouse isn't so lucky, he's punctured through and through and thoroughly dead - wet to the touch from the abundant cat saliva - he's not done with it yet. He flings it into the air, bats it with his paws, finds it, repeats, loses it in a plant pot, sniffs it out, flings it into the air again, bats it some more.
There's a very real danger of dead leaky mouse landing in my lap, but I have to stay and marvel at such a display of his feline prowess, and am filled with a newfound and rather grudging admiration. There was a standing joke about this cat, that if he ever caught a mouse he'd cuddle it to death, it's been now entirely disproven.
He sets it in front of the mat - the welcome home offering, then thinks better of it and picks it up to throw it into the air again....
Who woulda guessed?
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