Jolt Country

co wrote:great thinking, genius. Though, I think even the jews admit there was a guy named Jesus but just don't want to hear about how their ancestors had him killed (or something).

Woah, even the jews admit it? The arch-nemesi of Christians everywhere? Well, now I'm sold.

OK I'm working on this.


1) Thomas Jefferson

2) Stephen King

3) Leonardo DaVinci

4) John Lennon (just before he starts with that no-talent Jap Princess)

(this assumes that since we can raise the dead for a dinner party, we can also use Babel Fish capable of translating 15th century Itialian)


I will continue to edit this post until all five have been seated.



THE
DINNER FOR SIX
AARDVARK

Siddhartha Gautama
Tiger Woods
Thich Nhat Hahn
Worm
My Father (GAY)

Hunter S. Thompson
Salman Rushdie
Theodore Roosevelt
Maynard James Keenan
Andre the Giant

Ryszard Kapuscinski
Vaclav Havel
Robert Capa
Patrick Leigh Fermor
Tomas Kloucek

Farmouth T. Jensen
Gorn Vialon
Styra Miller
Papa J
Werner Foyjski

Marilyn Monroe
Carmen Electra
Tyra Banks
Heather Hanson
Marie Curie

I would totally be into Bugs' dinner party too.

Bruce

As an aside, the song (feces on the fire) probably won't see the light of day. Or at least not get recorded. Right now it's a series of sketchy chord progressions and scribbled verses on used copy paper. I will however, explain how it came about. Which is more interesting than the song itself right now.

Last saturday night a group of us were sitting around the fire in my backyard, enjoying beverages and such. I was noodling on my 12 string and just having a good time generally, when my neighbor related an anecdote of how one time she was at her land in the Southern part of New York and left a campfire for a few minutes, returned to find that her son (16) had pissed on the fire.
My best friend said that that was better than taking a crap on the fire, right? I suddenly started chanting 'Feces on the Fire!' and playing the opening to 'Horse With No Name' By America. My buddy (the singer) started throwing in unrelated verses and we both laughed like crazed monkeys. Naturally I had to expand the thing and explore the comedic possibilities. I don't guess that it will be on the radio at any time.


THE
MAKE IT UP
AS YOU GO
AARDVARK


(and now back to dinner guests...)

gsdgsd wrote:Ryszard Kapuscinski
Vaclav Havel
Robert Capa
Patrick Leigh Fermor
Tomas Kloucek

We said dream dinner, not dream team.

Vitriola wrote:We said dream dinner, not dream team.

Only one of 'em is an athlete. (and, sadly, he wouldn't be much use on a dream team.)

Damn, that was fast.

Euronymous
Jesus
Chico Mendez
Fernando Collor de Melo (sp?)
Josephine

Hillary Clinton
Al Sharpton
Rosie O'Donnell
Stephanie Miller
Alex Rodriguez

I'll be serving crushed razor blades and a side dish of jackhammers to the skull.

Uh, really. Five people to murder and no bush or falwell again?

Man, Having Rosie and Al Shaprton in the same room would be loud.



THE
BABBLE
AARDVARK

Vitriola wrote:My mother is dead. Thank Christ.

Ooh. Thanks for helping me come up with my list!

1. Vitriola's mom (deceased)
2. Adolph Hitler (deceased)
3. Joseph Stalin (deceased)
4. Genghis Khan (deceased)
5. Idi Amin (deceased)

Let the games begin!

My Mom would win that cage match. As bitch as bitch can get.

Vitriola wrote:My Mom would win that cage match. As bitch as bitch can get.

No fucking shit. Actually, I would want to have Bill Brynteson as one of my guests. Always a good time. So...

1. William Brynteson (deceased)
(for those of you who don't know, my father. Vitriola could explain more. But he would be a good one to go into detail about the "Did Jesus exist?" thing being that he was an ancient and medieval historian and all.)
2. Vitriola. Haven't seen her since we lived together in the ATL.
3. Bruce. Haven't seen him since we dined together in the ATL.
4-5. Don't fucking know. Not the husband. Or Vitriola's ex-boyfriend who lives too fucking close to me in Herndon Virginia.

Marilyn Manson Buddha James Madison Machiavelli (SP) Carl Sagan