An Introduction to the Knuckleboner

[knuckleboner]

hello, my name is the knuckleboner and i'm very pleased to meet you.

first, a few words about myself: i'm a man of few words.

secondly, i was born in the wilds of borneo, and growing up, had never heard of rock and roll music. in fact the only music we had was beating together two rocks. which, coincidently, was also our mating ritual.

so one day, i'm out in the jungle, trying to find a couple of rocks, because, well, i was looking to get my rocks off. there i was, rock hunting when, with a tremendous commotion, this wild-eyed peacock man came through the bush leading a band of people on some sort of trek. the multi-colored leader stopped right in front of me and with a rapid display of kung fu kicks and jazz hands, introduced himself and his entire crew.

i asked him what he was doing way out here in the jungle. he replied, "what am i NOT doing out here?" and proceeded to launch into a tail that enraptured me with its intricacies of outrageous tribal warlords conquering the world through voodoo jungle screams, acres of prime produce, high intensity spotlights, cases of jack daniels, and about a half dozen of my pygmy neighbors. i didn't understand a single word that peacock man said, but i was in awe of his enthusiasm and just a little bit terrified of his power.

at that point, he asked me what i was doing there. i explained my dilemna of having to find rock to beat, in order to get my rocks off.

again, the awe-inspiring stranger began to talk in a language foreign to me; telling me tales of late night groupies and stickered prize winners and your drummer's wives, and various other suggestions that i knew i didn't know how to implement. at the end, when i stared at the stranger with a vacant look on my face, he proceeded to pull out a round disk from his pack. he offered it to me free of charge (plus shipping and handling), and told me that i was doing it wrong.

and then, with a howl, he leaped across the jungle and was gone. still in shock, i took the disk back to the jungle hut and played it on one of our jill, one of our missionaries', record machines. upon hearing it, my world changed and i quickly made it my mission to get missionary jill into the missionary position. with the help of the voodoo jungle screams, she couldn't resist, and i quickly realized that my days of beating were long gone.

thanks to the disk called, "van halen" i could actually get laid.

shortly after that i left the jungle and entered the city. a few years later, i found the roth army.

[LoungeMachine]

Van Halen.

Helping ugly people get laid since 1978

[Blackflag]

i'm a man of few words. . .

If only.

[Andy Taylor]

i'm a man of few words.

.....

secondly, i was born in the wilds of borneo, and growing up, had never heard of rock and roll music. in fact the only music we had was beating together two rocks. which, coincidently, was also our mating ritual.

so one day, i'm out in the jungle, trying to find a couple of rocks, because, well, i was looking to get my rocks off. there i was, rock hunting when, with a tremendous commotion, this wild-eyed peacock man came through the bush leading a band of people on some sort of trek. the multi-colored leader stopped right in front of me and with a rapid display of kung fu kicks and jazz hands, introduced himself and his entire crew.

i asked him what he was doing way out here in the jungle. he replied, "what am i NOT doing out here?" and proceeded to launch into a tail that enraptured me with its intricacies of outrageous tribal warlords conquering the world through voodoo jungle screams, acres of prime produce, high intensity spotlights, cases of jack daniels, and about a half dozen of my pygmy neighbors. i didn't understand a single word that peacock man said, but i was in awe of his enthusiasm and just a little bit terrified of his power.

at that point, he asked me what i was doing there. i explained my dilemna of having to find rock to beat, in order to get my rocks off.

again, the awe-inspiring stranger began to talk in a language foreign to me; telling me tales of late night groupies and stickered prize winners and your drummer's wives, and various other suggestions that i knew i didn't know how to implement. at the end, when i stared at the stranger with a vacant look on my face, he proceeded to pull out a round disk from his pack. he offered it to me free of charge (plus shipping and handling), and told me that i was doing it wrong.

and then, with a howl, he leaped across the jungle and was gone. still in shock, i took the disk back to the jungle hut and played it on one of our jill, one of our missionaries', record machines. upon hearing it, my world changed and i quickly made it my mission to get missionary jill into the missionary position. with the help of the voodoo jungle screams, she couldn't resist, and i quickly realized that my days of beating were long gone.

thanks to the disk called, "van halen" i could actually get laid.

shortly after that i left the jungle and entered the city. a few years later, i found the roth army.

[Dr. Love]

I always figured your username was a sexual preference

[GAR]

...with the help of the voodoo jungle screams, she couldn't resist, and i quickly realized that my days of beating were long gone.

thanks to the disk called, "van halen" i could actually get laid.

This means someday that experience could happen to me, too!

Welcome back, Knucklboner!

[knuckleboner]

I always figured your username was a sexual preference

(sadly, it's an anatomical description. but don't tell nobody!)



and thanks, GAR!

[Sarge]

Welcome,
That was great!