PanthersPens62
Paul & Stanley
How many times are you going to post this?
This only shows that he was a loon long before any of us realized it. 
Useless Thread MCMXCIX: Miss Piggy Appreciation Thread
- Thread starter GIADF
- Start date
How many times are you going to post this?
This only shows that he was a loon long before any of us realized it. 
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,833
- 31,689
@PanthersPens62
that's The first time those tweets have been postedHow many times are you going to post this?
PanthersPens62
Paul & Stanley
But keep telling us how you'd be able to take multiple walks a day with a dog during the winter.
This is true. In the 'Burgh I was able to listen to the legendary Dan Kelly call Blues games on KMOX as the signal came in clear at night.
SoupNazi
Keeps paying for Hangman’s OF to get promoted
- Feb 6, 2010
- 27,417
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John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,833
- 31,689
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,833
- 31,689
did you listen to Jack Buck or Harry Carey on kmox
i miss Mike Shannon I grew up listening to kmox and cardinals games online. I think the signal came in at night but not clearly
wgn came in too I think.
Time for this "spam bot" to repeater with another classic.
@PanthersPens62 In today's edition of "In Case Yinz Forgot"
i miss Mike Shannon I grew up listening to kmox and cardinals games online. I think the signal came in at night but not clearly
wgn came in too I think.
Time for this "spam bot" to repeater with another classic.
@PanthersPens62 In today's edition of "In Case Yinz Forgot"
Last edited:
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,833
- 31,689
Love Youtube giving me totally incorrect "similar" returns when you can't even find that video using the keywords "Stanton Mother's Day grand slam"
Wow, you showed me a grand slam from 4/2014. Totally the same thing
Wow, you showed me a grand slam from 4/2014. Totally the same thing
Sega Dreamcast
party like it's 1999
Listening to sports talk radio sounds dreadful.
Opinionated geeks like Francesa just constantly bitching and being a know-it-all.
Opinionated geeks like Francesa just constantly bitching and being a know-it-all.
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,833
- 31,689
PanthersPens62
Paul & Stanley
That YouTube should only be posted on Mothers Day.
I did listen to some of Buck & Shannon.
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,833
- 31,689
PanthersPens62
Paul & Stanley
Your precious Norah interrupted it so I had time to post. Luckily the dingbat got off the air at 1:45.
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,833
- 31,689
what did she sayYour precious Norah interrupted it so I had time to post. Luckily the dingbat got off the air at 1:45.
PanthersPens62
Paul & Stanley
SoupNazi
Keeps paying for Hangman’s OF to get promoted
- Feb 6, 2010
- 27,417
- 18,027
Sounds like JP.
Sega Dreamcast
party like it's 1999
That's not Hollywood Hogan without wearing black and white.
Red and yellow Hogan should be coming out to Real American
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,833
- 31,689
Cutting a promo on radio lol
"The reason I think I'm going to get it is because I'm the best guy for it. It ain't close. The thing you have to do is, you have to connect with your football team, you have to connect with your fan base. The way they play, that's the most important thing. It's not just the Xs and Os and all that. This Ben Johnson, I love him, I absolutely love him, but I'm a better candidate for this job than he would be."
Rex Ryan
"The reason I think I'm going to get it is because I'm the best guy for it. It ain't close. The thing you have to do is, you have to connect with your football team, you have to connect with your fan base. The way they play, that's the most important thing. It's not just the Xs and Os and all that. This Ben Johnson, I love him, I absolutely love him, but I'm a better candidate for this job than he would be."
Rex Ryan
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,833
- 31,689
SoupNazi
Keeps paying for Hangman’s OF to get promoted
- Feb 6, 2010
- 27,417
- 18,027
Brenda and John’s Final Act: The Plushpocalypse
Life had just started returning to normal. My yard was free of plushie ambushes, my phone had been mercifully silent, and Waddles, the cursed penguin, had become an oddly comforting presence on my couch. I thought I had finally won.
But Brenda and John Price weren’t done with me. Not even close.
It started innocently enough. A mysterious flyer showed up in my mailbox one morning. It was bright pink with glittery lettering and a cartoon penguin—Waddles—smiling at me from the corner. The text read:
“Join us for the 1st Annual Plushie Palooza! A celebration of love, forgiveness, and the wonderful world of plushies. Special guest: YOU. Saturday at noon. Address: Your Front Lawn.”
My blood ran cold.
Saturday arrived far too quickly, and at exactly 11:55 AM, I heard them before I saw them.
A parade of honking cars rolled down my street, each one decorated with plushies strapped to the roof and windows. There were plushie-covered minivans, trucks with giant stuffed animals bungee-corded to the hood, and even a motorcycle gang whose riders wore plushie backpacks. Leading the charge, of course, was Brenda in her minivan, waving from the driver’s seat like the queen of an absurd, fluff-filled kingdom.
Behind her, John stood on the back of a pickup truck, holding a megaphone. “The Plush King has returned!” he bellowed, his voice echoing down the street. “And he’s brought reinforcements!”
Reinforcements?
My jaw dropped as I saw what was coming behind them: a literal plushie army.
It was a small group of adults and children, all marching in unison and dressed as their favorite stuffed animals. Some wore full-body costumes of Pikachu, Hello Kitty, and even a horrifyingly realistic Snorlax. Others carried plushies the size of small refrigerators.
The neighbors were out on their lawns, filming with their phones and murmuring in disbelief.
I ran outside, waving my arms. “What the hell is this?!”
Brenda hopped out of her minivan, beaming. “It’s a festival, sweetie! To celebrate our reconciliation and your newfound love of Waddles!”
“I never said I loved Waddles!” I shouted.
John hopped down from the truck, now wearing a cape made of stitched-together Beanie Babies. “You accepted Waddles into your home. That’s as good as a legally binding contract in the Plush Kingdom.”
“What are you even talking about?!”
Brenda clapped her hands. “Let the festivities begin!”
What followed was the most surreal, horrifying carnival of chaos I’ve ever experienced.
They set up booths on my lawn without asking. One featured “Plushie Face Painting,” where kids could get pictures of stuffed animals painted on their cheeks. Another was “Adopt a Plushie,” where people could pick from a pile of old, slightly creepy-looking stuffed toys.
In the middle of it all was a giant inflatable bounce house shaped like Waddles.
John wandered around like a king surveying his domain, occasionally stopping to pose for selfies with his “fans.”
I tried reasoning with Brenda. “You can’t just hijack my house like this! This is insane!”
She waved me off. “Oh, don’t be such a party pooper. Everyone’s having fun!”
I looked around. The neighbors were no longer just filming—they were participating. Kids were running around with free plushies, and adults were chatting over cups of Brenda’s infamous lasagna, which she’d set up at a food truck labeled “Brenda’s Bites: Fuel for the Plushie Enthusiast.”
Then, to my utter disbelief, the media showed up.
A local news van pulled up, and a chipper reporter bounded out with a cameraman in tow. She cornered John near the Waddles bounce house.
“This is incredible!” she said. “Tell us, how did you come up with the idea for Plushie Palooza?”
John puffed out his chest. “It all started as a mission of love. My mom and I wanted to teach someone very special a lesson about forgiveness and the magic of plushies.”
I stormed over, trying to interject, but the reporter cut me off.
“And who’s the special someone?”
John grinned and threw an arm around my shoulder. “This guy! My long-lost plushie brother!”
The cameraman zoomed in on my face, capturing my soul leaving my body.
The “festival” reached its peak when John announced the main event: a wrestling match.
Two inflatable wrestling rings were set up in my yard, each surrounded by cheering onlookers. Brenda took the microphone and explained the rules: competitors had to wrestle while wearing oversized plushie costumes.
Before I could protest, John stepped into the ring, dressed as a giant panda. He pointed a plushie-covered glove at me.
“I challenge you, brother!” he boomed. “Winner takes Waddles—and their dignity!”
I stared at him, speechless.
The crowd began chanting. “Fight! Fight! Fight!”
Brenda appeared at my side, holding a penguin costume. “Don’t be shy, sweetie. It’s all in good fun!”
I looked around, realizing there was no escape. My neighbors were all watching, the news crew was filming, and John was bouncing up and down in his panda suit, ready to rumble.
Resigned to my fate, I put on the penguin costume and climbed into the ring.
The match was… an experience.
John came at me like a freight train, but the panda suit slowed him down just enough for me to dodge. I swung a giant plushie fish, smacking him in the head. The crowd roared.
He retaliated by body-slamming me into the inflatable mat, sending the whole ring wobbling. Brenda cheered from the sidelines, shouting, “That’s my boy!”
We grappled, rolled, and traded blows with stuffed animals, all while the crowd went wild.
Finally, I managed to trip him, sending him sprawling onto his back. I climbed on top and pinned him down, yelling, “Say it! Say you’ll leave me alone!”
John groaned, flailing helplessly. “Fine! You win!”
The crowd erupted in cheers as I stood victorious, panting in my penguin suit.
The Plushie Palooza ended shortly after, with Brenda and John packing up their carnival of chaos and driving off into the sunset.
For now, my lawn is mine again. But deep down, I know this isn’t the end.
Somewhere out there, Brenda and John are plotting their next move. And when they strike again, I’ll be ready—with Waddles by my side.
Life had just started returning to normal. My yard was free of plushie ambushes, my phone had been mercifully silent, and Waddles, the cursed penguin, had become an oddly comforting presence on my couch. I thought I had finally won.
But Brenda and John Price weren’t done with me. Not even close.
It started innocently enough. A mysterious flyer showed up in my mailbox one morning. It was bright pink with glittery lettering and a cartoon penguin—Waddles—smiling at me from the corner. The text read:
“Join us for the 1st Annual Plushie Palooza! A celebration of love, forgiveness, and the wonderful world of plushies. Special guest: YOU. Saturday at noon. Address: Your Front Lawn.”
My blood ran cold.
Saturday arrived far too quickly, and at exactly 11:55 AM, I heard them before I saw them.
A parade of honking cars rolled down my street, each one decorated with plushies strapped to the roof and windows. There were plushie-covered minivans, trucks with giant stuffed animals bungee-corded to the hood, and even a motorcycle gang whose riders wore plushie backpacks. Leading the charge, of course, was Brenda in her minivan, waving from the driver’s seat like the queen of an absurd, fluff-filled kingdom.
Behind her, John stood on the back of a pickup truck, holding a megaphone. “The Plush King has returned!” he bellowed, his voice echoing down the street. “And he’s brought reinforcements!”
Reinforcements?
My jaw dropped as I saw what was coming behind them: a literal plushie army.
It was a small group of adults and children, all marching in unison and dressed as their favorite stuffed animals. Some wore full-body costumes of Pikachu, Hello Kitty, and even a horrifyingly realistic Snorlax. Others carried plushies the size of small refrigerators.
The neighbors were out on their lawns, filming with their phones and murmuring in disbelief.
I ran outside, waving my arms. “What the hell is this?!”
Brenda hopped out of her minivan, beaming. “It’s a festival, sweetie! To celebrate our reconciliation and your newfound love of Waddles!”
“I never said I loved Waddles!” I shouted.
John hopped down from the truck, now wearing a cape made of stitched-together Beanie Babies. “You accepted Waddles into your home. That’s as good as a legally binding contract in the Plush Kingdom.”
“What are you even talking about?!”
Brenda clapped her hands. “Let the festivities begin!”
What followed was the most surreal, horrifying carnival of chaos I’ve ever experienced.
They set up booths on my lawn without asking. One featured “Plushie Face Painting,” where kids could get pictures of stuffed animals painted on their cheeks. Another was “Adopt a Plushie,” where people could pick from a pile of old, slightly creepy-looking stuffed toys.
In the middle of it all was a giant inflatable bounce house shaped like Waddles.
John wandered around like a king surveying his domain, occasionally stopping to pose for selfies with his “fans.”
I tried reasoning with Brenda. “You can’t just hijack my house like this! This is insane!”
She waved me off. “Oh, don’t be such a party pooper. Everyone’s having fun!”
I looked around. The neighbors were no longer just filming—they were participating. Kids were running around with free plushies, and adults were chatting over cups of Brenda’s infamous lasagna, which she’d set up at a food truck labeled “Brenda’s Bites: Fuel for the Plushie Enthusiast.”
Then, to my utter disbelief, the media showed up.
A local news van pulled up, and a chipper reporter bounded out with a cameraman in tow. She cornered John near the Waddles bounce house.
“This is incredible!” she said. “Tell us, how did you come up with the idea for Plushie Palooza?”
John puffed out his chest. “It all started as a mission of love. My mom and I wanted to teach someone very special a lesson about forgiveness and the magic of plushies.”
I stormed over, trying to interject, but the reporter cut me off.
“And who’s the special someone?”
John grinned and threw an arm around my shoulder. “This guy! My long-lost plushie brother!”
The cameraman zoomed in on my face, capturing my soul leaving my body.
The “festival” reached its peak when John announced the main event: a wrestling match.
Two inflatable wrestling rings were set up in my yard, each surrounded by cheering onlookers. Brenda took the microphone and explained the rules: competitors had to wrestle while wearing oversized plushie costumes.
Before I could protest, John stepped into the ring, dressed as a giant panda. He pointed a plushie-covered glove at me.
“I challenge you, brother!” he boomed. “Winner takes Waddles—and their dignity!”
I stared at him, speechless.
The crowd began chanting. “Fight! Fight! Fight!”
Brenda appeared at my side, holding a penguin costume. “Don’t be shy, sweetie. It’s all in good fun!”
I looked around, realizing there was no escape. My neighbors were all watching, the news crew was filming, and John was bouncing up and down in his panda suit, ready to rumble.
Resigned to my fate, I put on the penguin costume and climbed into the ring.
The match was… an experience.
John came at me like a freight train, but the panda suit slowed him down just enough for me to dodge. I swung a giant plushie fish, smacking him in the head. The crowd roared.
He retaliated by body-slamming me into the inflatable mat, sending the whole ring wobbling. Brenda cheered from the sidelines, shouting, “That’s my boy!”
We grappled, rolled, and traded blows with stuffed animals, all while the crowd went wild.
Finally, I managed to trip him, sending him sprawling onto his back. I climbed on top and pinned him down, yelling, “Say it! Say you’ll leave me alone!”
John groaned, flailing helplessly. “Fine! You win!”
The crowd erupted in cheers as I stood victorious, panting in my penguin suit.
The Plushie Palooza ended shortly after, with Brenda and John packing up their carnival of chaos and driving off into the sunset.
For now, my lawn is mine again. But deep down, I know this isn’t the end.
Somewhere out there, Brenda and John are plotting their next move. And when they strike again, I’ll be ready—with Waddles by my side.
SoupNazi
Keeps paying for Hangman’s OF to get promoted
- Feb 6, 2010
- 27,417
- 18,027
End of Line
Sic Semper Tyrannis
- Mar 20, 2009
- 28,928
- 6,596
For someone who says they don’t go to the football board you post there every day
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,833
- 31,689
Wolfgang Puck restaurant on the Strip to reopen after health department closure
The Southern Nevada Health District inspection assigned more than 40 demerits across the restaurant and related service operations.
www.reviewjournal.com
SoupNazi
Keeps paying for Hangman’s OF to get promoted
- Feb 6, 2010
- 27,417
- 18,027
I needed a new avatar. Thanks for lending me your likeness, @John Price.
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,833
- 31,689
Barely != don't go
Oh by the way did yinz notice your pal GKJ is no longer making the GDT's for the playoff games? But how will we know about his "witty" thread titles and the broadcast maps? I wonder WHAT STATIONS WILL CARRY THE PLAYOFF GAMES, HOW WILL WE KNOW WITHOUT HIS LONG ASS INTROS
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