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The URL you've tried seems to be, er, slightly broken. Perhaps you should double-check it.
I do have some stuff left over from other pages, though...
we can do this movie the way Bakshi should have done it. IMHO, however, I can't see Minnie as Galadriel. The tall, beautiful Elven queen portrayed by some oversize Disney rodent? Some hormone-injected rat? I think not. Noooo, the beauty and wisdom of Galadriel and Celeborn must come through. I'd suggest Boris and Natasha for the parts. Maybe Minnie can play Arwen. Which suggests Mr. Peabody for Gandalf: he has both the wisdom and the attitude for the part. It's a bit of a departure from traditional casting, but I'd be sorely tempted to cast a woman as Saruman: Evil-lyn, from "He-Man and the Masters of the Universe". A powerful magician turned to evil, with a voice of silken iron
"Accio Jensen index!" Harry cried, pointing his wand at the maintenance margin requirement. If he could just prevent Voldemort from off-balance-sheeting a little longer, he knew Hermione would come through with the EAMS differential disclosure. But Voldemort's equity was powerful, even with Dumbledore's setting value date on the Eurodollar; his random-walk didn't seem so random, and Harry was sure that even with translation exposure he could paper over his losses. "Autoregressive kedavra!" Voldemort snarled with a sudden fiduciary. Harry leaped aside, nearly forced to sell at a dirty price. If he hadn't set his global bonds to Market-if-touched he would have been forced into liquidity
and so even after wrestling the alligator, I still had to recover the DNA sample he had stolen. I knew he had already reached semiintelligence, and I had to find a way to trick him fast before he became any smarter than I was. "You're leaning a little too the left," I pointed out easily. "I think you may have lost one of your shoes." "Qhich one?" he asked, looking down. Ah-HA! Just the stroke of luck I was waiting for. I grabbed the vial and
sIQ must be well over two thousand by now; I imagine he must spend a lot of irate evenings in the swamp reflecting upon how easily he was duped
He grabbed Steinfrau's nose. There was nothing for it now; he had to hang on, hang on for dear life, or else the mad German would be gone and there would be no way to prove his innocence. Steinfrau tried to roll up the window of the moving cab, but with a massive lunge he managed to jam his free hand in and around the crank; the pressure on his arm was terrible, but the window stopped in mid-rise, and the extra handgrip helped him hang on as the cab increased its speed. They were heading toward Midtown. There was a chance, a bare chance; if he could hook his ankle around the fence at the 59th Street sidewalk café he might be able to slow them down. But would he be able to? People were screaming, throwing things; there were angry shouts from theatregoers and commuters, traffic cops pointed at him and swore. Steinfrau seemed to be egging them on, damn him.
once the squid is inserted, it's a simple matter of getting it mad