Chirper #23 (AC Week #481)

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Chirper #23 (AC Week #481)

Z0REM
Registered
Posting Freak

#526

07-20-2023, 04:40 PM

Need to chirp more

Credit to Vulfzilla for the awesome render pic

Z0REM
Registered
Posting Freak

#527

07-20-2023, 04:40 PM

Back to 1700 tpe. The end is in sight.

Credit to Vulfzilla for the awesome render pic

Crash_Conrad
Registered
Senior Member

#528

07-20-2023, 04:44 PM

Tweet tweet tweet

Crash_Conrad
Registered
Senior Member

#529

07-20-2023, 04:44 PM

The offseason drags on!

39alaska39
IIHF Federation Head
Not a Commissioner. Shh!

#530

07-20-2023, 04:50 PM

Almost Friday, almost Friday, almost Friday

Alex Winters (retired)
Matej Winters (retired)
Dominik Winters
S45 Jesster Trophy Winner
Challenge Cup Winning Goal Club: S52

NorwegianDemon
Fantasy League Manager
Posting Freak

#531

07-20-2023, 04:50 PM

Facing the US in the quarterfinals, this is going to be a great game.

Z-Whiz
Registered
x9 Duck of the Year

#532

07-20-2023, 05:08 PM

07-17-2023, 02:52 PMCrunk Wrote: @Z-Whiz chirp

chump

Z-Whiz
Registered
x9 Duck of the Year

#533

07-20-2023, 05:08 PM

champ

Takk806
SMJHL GM
Senior Member

#534

07-20-2023, 05:28 PM

Herman Melville: Moby Dick

CHAPTER 1: Loomings.
Call me Ishmael. Some years ago--never mind how long precisely--having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off--then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.

There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes, belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs--commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward. Its extreme downtown is the battery, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land. Look at the crowds of water-gazers there.

Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon. Go from Corlears Hook to Coenties Slip, and from thence, by Whitehall, northward. What do you see?--Posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries. Some leaning against the spiles; some seated upon the pier-heads; some looking over the bulwarks of ships from China; some high aloft in the rigging, as if striving to get a still better seaward peep. But these are all landsmen; of week days pent up in lath and plaster--tied to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to desks. How then is this? Are the green fields gone? What do they here?