Julie Stark: Oh we are here. I can't wait for you to meet them.

Fred Stark: Oh Julie... It has been too long.

Julie Stark: I know father *sob* But it is a wonderful occasion you know.

Heidi Stark: Julie! My daughter! oh Julie!

Fred Stark: So where is he... where is this "new love" we are supposed to meet?

* the temperature in the room drops 40 degrees... the radio starts to blare out a song very heavy in strings a sinister voice starts to sing to the music *

Julie: huh? What is going on? But here he comes.

* a devilishly grinning man enters and opens up his sport coat to reveal... a lion... emblazoned on his t-shirt... a lion very familiar to papa Stark *

The horrified Father: Everybody out! It's a trap!

Voice over the radio: NOW SMITE THEM... EVEN THE YOUNGLINGS... HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAAAAA

And so the would-be suitor, throwing off his coat, whips out a light saber and starts hacking the family members to pieces. And all the while the voice on the radio is crooning:

And who are you... my lord he said...
That I must bow so low?
Only a cat in a different coat is all the truth I know.

And in a coat of gold or red...
A warrior still has claws...
And mine are long and sharp my lord...
as long and sharp as yours.

And so he said... and said and said...
That Lord of ....

But by now there was no one left to hear. Just the panting "new love", who grinned as he heard his family song wafting over the carnage.

Over the centuries it had been said to Stark generation after generation... Never bring a Lannister home for dinner. And maybe one day they will listen.

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It is quite clear that the last few posts have established a dangerous SMITING momentum of the darker sort. And since this is a responsible SMITING thread, we will now change the direction and bleed off some of that momentum... by strawberry eating.

There is nothing more innocent and happy than sitting outside in the warm Spring sunshine and eating a bowl of strawberries. Nice big plumP fuzzy strawberries. Sweet. Not too tart. Letting the juice kind of stain your beard. Holding out the berries straight armed - Viking style. Crushing the berries with your crush mallet and wearing the bowl on your head.

Then your idiot neighbor sees you and makes some crack about berries and heads and it's back to good old SMITING baby. After all, you need another skull for your rum... the old one is getting kinda mushy.

SMITE!!! SMITE!!!! SMITE SPRING BACK TO WHERE IT CAME FROM!!!! SMITE THAT BOWL OF DRIPPING MESSINESS SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO WASH IT!!!!!! SMIIIIIIIIITEEEEEE!!!!!!! Quote

Now let's go mystical... That our SMITING be well grounded in the substrate...




Ye must build even as ye SMITE... that your enemies are struck dumb with awe at your monuments. Quote

A good smiting is so often accompanied by peril that many otherwise good men consider giving up their right, their opportunity. Still others, as weak as the former, do wish to so greatly swell their numbers that it is scarcely a smiting but rather a coarse, brutish, crushing.

If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires:
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my brothers, wish not another man to join the cause
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not SMITE in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is called the Day of Sublime SMITING (DOSS for short)
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of DOSS.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is DOSS:'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say 'These wounds I had on DOSS last.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Dudley the Mountie, Kansuke and Pepe,
Thor and Littlefinger, Malificent the Elder and Joe Supertone,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And DOSS shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of SMITERS;
For he to-day that sheds enemy's bl00d with me
Shall be a smiter; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in our homelands... now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon the Day of Sublime Smiting. Quote

MegaCock: SPLASH ONE LEGION!!!!!! COCK SMITE!!!! COCK SMITE!!!! COCK SMITE!!!!

Jasmine: UFFFFFFFFFFF! So cockly. How'd you like to come inside for a treat?


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It is Superbowl Sunday... a holy day for Smiting.

In these noble halls Doomsday... The Steel Curtain... The Purple People Eaters... all still stand across the line like colossuses.

And puny worthless knee knocking quarterbacks must cower as they scrub jock straps for eternity... spitting chunks of turf from out their teeth.

The head slap still rings out in these halls in defiance of those weak vacillating zebras whose quarterback hugging hearts bleed anemic, near transparent, watery fear p1ss.

Our ghosts are covered in stickum. Their wild eyes promise to stay open as they clip receivers who try to catch over the middle.

VALFATHER WATCHES EAGERLY AS THE DEFENSE SMITES THE SHIVERING GOATS OF THE PREPUBESCENT OFFENSES AND WILL HARVEST THE BIGGEST SMITERS FOR THESE HALLS!!!!!
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