We had to set up all of insurance here at work today. The guy who set it up was a wonderful fellow, who sounds just like Morgan Freeman
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i deserve to be the beneficiary of your policy because after your demise, i would adopt your cats and love them and care for them as if they were my own. and you KNOW that i would do this.
my initial thought for quickly clearing the way to my inheritance was to hire fred durst and force you to watch him perform whilst i whispered "i think i'm preggers" over and over again in your ear. but if this delightful scenario doesn't trigger an instant heart attack it would certainly drive you to suicide which could end up being money out of my pocket.
too risky.
so it has to look like an accident. a terrible, tragic, ridiculously embarrassing accident. it has to be unexpected, but more importantly, it has to be undignified and hopefully the subject of future internet jokes and references for generations. let's just say, i'd avoid bathrooms if i were you.
yay! a giggle!unionmaidNovember 10 2005, 18:06:33 UTC
EXACTLY! what with the greasy toilet seats, the splashes, the smears and even that furiously masturbating man....they probably wouldn't find him for a week!
the fatal flaw in your plan is that I have fred durst in a very exclusive club, basically him and ben affleck. members of this club are subject to immediate violent attacks if i as much as lay and eye upon their wretched person. i would chew through barbed wire at a chance to mangle durst's soiled person.
nice try with the cat angle, though. that may win the day!
Monkeys begone!gashlycrumbNovember 10 2005, 18:20:13 UTC
If there's any mention of monkeys, I'm out of there. I cannot bear the nasty critters.
You see, you could save me from years of paying off student loans. But you will probably cave in to either sexual favors or someone agreeing to take on your entire pack of cats, neither of which I could offer; B. would be rather put out and one of my cats (Miles, the hellspawn) would eat all of yours.
So, I've resigned myself to a life of poverty - but I'd done that before. I will, however, now despise you for dangling that carrot of financial freedom before my weary eyes.
I would deserve it because I would spend every penny of it on illegal drugs and loose women, many of them amputee dwarfs. I might divert some into a fund to have my enemies offed, and maybe a few other people who have done me no harm, just for the fun of the thing. None of it would be frittered away on dwellings, food or the support of my army of dependants. I doubt if any of your other correspondents can come up with a more praiseworthy plan.
I could dream up some Machiavellian plan whereby I have you killed and all the forensic evidence points to an unholy alliance between Morganaus and givemethegun conspiring to, and succeeding in, killing you while I sit at home in Scotland with my feet up on the coffee table being blown by a local judge with all the police force watching to confirm my alibi. That would remove the personal touch, Bill, and be a poor repayment for your generosity. It's only just that you should get up close and personal with your beneficiary and not be killed in that shoddy mail-order manner
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I am a poor, yet lovable wretch that needs a beneficiary. If I were a Dostoevsky or Dickens character, (personally, I prefer Dostoevsky. Seedier,) I would either receive a large sum of money from an anonymous donor so that I could then revolutionize the world or I would unceremoniously offed by a poor, yet incredibly busty and wicked woman whose man had fallen in love with my talent. Now, you may be tempted to give this fictional beauty the policy, but resist, Bill, resist.
In order to cash in on your untimely death, I would hire a shady-looking guy I found in a back alley chatting with Pony to "accidentally" run you over with a cement roller. Either that, or I would wait until your neighbor was asleep and topple one of his trees right into your bedroom, crushing your delicate bodily shell and framing him for the tragic incident. I will, of course, weep over your corpse just enough not to be considered mentally unsound but long enough to be given many pies and other baked goods in consolation.
I'll split the winnings..erm, policy.. with Pony if only he would reveal the true secret origin of his name. Surely the Thousands upon Thousands of dollars we'd receive for the mere sacrifice of you would be enough so that he wouldn't be greedy enough to keep the money all to himself or, you know, keep you alive.
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my initial thought for quickly clearing the way to my inheritance was to hire fred durst and force you to watch him perform whilst i whispered "i think i'm preggers" over and over again in your ear. but if this delightful scenario doesn't trigger an instant heart attack it would certainly drive you to suicide which could end up being money out of my pocket.
too risky.
so it has to look like an accident. a terrible, tragic, ridiculously embarrassing accident. it has to be unexpected, but more importantly, it has to be undignified and hopefully the subject of future internet jokes and references for generations. let's just say, i'd avoid bathrooms if i were you.
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Nobody would be the wiser!!!
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the fatal flaw in your plan is that I have fred durst in a very exclusive club, basically him and ben affleck. members of this club are subject to immediate violent attacks if i as much as lay and eye upon their wretched person.
i would chew through barbed wire at a chance to mangle durst's soiled person.
nice try with the cat angle, though. that may win the day!
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And hey - who am I to argue if you'd like to leave an undisclosed sum to a struggling student/writer? Think of my education, Bill.
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he loves the monkeys.
i totally forgot about your education!
i am a terrible person.
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You see, you could save me from years of paying off student loans. But you will probably cave in to either sexual favors or someone agreeing to take on your entire pack of cats, neither of which I could offer; B. would be rather put out and one of my cats (Miles, the hellspawn) would eat all of yours.
So, I've resigned myself to a life of poverty - but I'd done that before. I will, however, now despise you for dangling that carrot of financial freedom before my weary eyes.
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pure, unadulterated spite.
that is always a good reason for murder most foul.
that means you are still in the running, kid!
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High concentrations of hydrogen sulfide gas in your basement, it'd kill the cat's too though.
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the possible danger for the kitties make it a no-go.
gotta protect them kitties and their future without me!
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I could dream up some Machiavellian plan whereby I have you killed and all the forensic evidence points to an unholy alliance between Morganaus and givemethegun conspiring to, and succeeding in, killing you while I sit at home in Scotland with my feet up on the coffee table being blown by a local judge with all the police force watching to confirm my alibi. That would remove the personal touch, Bill, and be a poor repayment for your generosity. It's only just that you should get up close and personal with your beneficiary and not be killed in that shoddy mail-order manner ( ... )
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this was quite engaged. i wouldnt even have a fighting chance.
which makes it all the more romantic.
or maybe you DO plan to send catt and mary to attack me, probably waiting until i am all liquored up, dressed as candy stripers or something.
although i doubt you would deny yourself a chance to use your victorian surgery equipment on a live subject...
this is so far the most imaginative.
i wonder if i could sign it over to a scotsman? they ask for a social security number, after all..
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In order to cash in on your untimely death, I would hire a shady-looking guy I found in a back alley chatting with Pony to "accidentally" run you over with a cement roller. Either that, or I would wait until your neighbor was asleep and topple one of his trees right into your bedroom, crushing your delicate bodily shell and framing him for the tragic incident. I will, of course, weep over your corpse just enough not to be considered mentally unsound but long enough to be given many pies and other baked goods in consolation.
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how very warner brothers!
i love it.
pony would thwart your efforts to off me, however.
if only to do me in himself for the reward.
reward? i mean policy...or DO i?
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that could come back to bite you.
remember three days of the condor!
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