The Goat Pen

I'd kinda like to see you naked in my study.

That's just coz I'm a Sophomore.

Dora wrote:

eCat wrote:the boy told me Cracker Barrell isn't going to issue him a paycheck. They give him a prepaid visa card they put money into every 2 weeks.

I can see why - generating paper checks is costly and I best a good % of their employees don't keep regular checking /savings accounts which would make direct deposit a headache.

They had him go to an orientation today for busboys where they impressed upon him the importance of not waking babies. I thought that was odd and funny at the same time but regardless he seems excited at the idea of working for them.

How does this work as far as IRS?

I assume its just like direct deposit - they take out taxes, etc ahead of time and just put it into his visa card account they setup for him as opposed to his checking account.

OK thanks. I guess this wouldn't be a good way to hide income from an ex.

They also charge him for every withdrawal or debit purchase. I don't agree at all with this. My money that I earned goes where I want it to.

Dora, I still want to see you naked though. Do it in the memory of Augie. He'd have liked that.

a sad follow up to something we talked about on here awhile back

"Kalief Browder, the young man who was held for years in a New York jail without a trial, killed himself on Saturday.

Browder was the subject of a profile in The New Yorker. He was 16 years old when he was arrested for allegedly stealing a backpack. Because his family was unable to raise his $10,000 bail, Browder languished at Rikers Island for three years awaiting trial.

The teen says he endured beatings by officers and other inmates. He tried to commit suicide and spent more than 400 days in solitary confinement.

Eventually, in 2013, his case was dismissed. The publicity surrounding his case led to a plan to try to curb the violence at Rikers. But as Browder told the New Yorker, he emerged from the ordeal broken.

"People tell me because I have this case against the city I'm all right," he told the magazine. "But I'm not all right. I'm messed up. I know that I might see some money from this case, but that's not going to help me mentally. I'm mentally scarred right now. That's how I feel. Because there are certain things that changed about me and they might not go back.""

Wonder what John McCain has to say about this being he too was a POW.

What happened to August?

He died.

I'm sorry. What happened? He was too young!

Dora wrote:I'm sorry. What happened? He was too young!

The knee AIDS.

Is that supposed to be a joke?

Here's what happened:


I spent my formative years on the subcontinent, as my father was a major in the British Army and stationed in India during the Second Opium War. Once, while he was away on campaign, I was tasked to eliminate a streak of rogue tigers who had been killing the villagers in a place called Bharatpur. My houseboy, Augie, was my faithful servant on this expedition. The journey was a hard day's travel and we made a hasty camp to get some rest. But before I could finish my tea, a village woman named Culay ran in and shouted that tigers were attacking. We quickly followed and after killing three of the beasts, I set my sights on the fourth -and last- but unfortunately my gun jammed. Thinking and moving on instinct, I drew my knife and leapt on the back of the behemoth. My blade found his carotid, and dealt a mortal blow, but not before the tiger had clawed Augie. As the tiger fell, I rushed to my servant's side and surmised that his wounds would likely prove fatal.

Nonetheless, I thus began a frantic search for help when I happened upon Sgt. Gunny McDonald, a deserter from the Scottish regiment that had been under my father's command. Gunny thought I was a part of a team to bring him back, so he attacked, but I kept my wits about me and killed him with a Kimura Lock.

Afterwards, I rifled through the dead sergeant's supplies to find something -anything- that would help abate Augie's pain, and found a bottle of Drambuie among Gunny's things. I ran back to my camp faster than I had ever ran before, but upon arrival I found that poor Augie had died while I was gone. Grief-stricken, I sat down and drank the whole bottle before making my way back to the base.

Now, every June 8th I toast a glass of Drambuie to the memory of Augie. As god is my witness....

Dora wrote:Is that supposed to be a joke?

Of course not. This is a serious topic in a serious forum.

I hope it's all a joke & he's not dead.

Anyway, I don't have naked pics.

Wanna buy some?

You can post them for Rat.

I have enough of him already.