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After reading about just another bloke's sending of IP addresses to the FBI, this popped into my head. Aided and abetted by "Jones! JONES! It's your turn, dude." "No way! I opened the damn email last week, it's Smith's turn!" "nuh-uh. I'm not going through eighty-five IP addresses, seventy-five of which are his damn wife logging into their Flickr account from work again! NO!" .... "There's doughnuts. With chocolate sprinkles." "Not even for rainbow sprinkles and creme filling. No. Don't we have interns for this kind of stuff?" (in background) FBI agent on the phone: "Dude, stop telling your friends when you post new photos and they'll stop looking at them." (listens) "Well, then, stop telling your Aunt Margaret that you've posted new pictures. Sir, I am not going to go and arrest 'some guy in Baton Rouge' for clicking on a photo link. No sir, I'm not. Yes, sir, that's your right. Sue me!" "The last intern ran away screaming something about how maybe living in a cave with no electricity wouldn't be so bad. Now just open the email." "No. Not gonna and you can't make me -- urk! Hey! Leggo of my hand. Don't click on it -- oh crap." (of course in my head, Smith is now McKay and FBI sergeant/head of stoopid people guy is Sheppard) Post a comment in response: |
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