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Difference between revisions of "Silverstreak"
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| + | {{food}} | ||
| + | {{Dirty}} | ||
| + | {{old}} | ||
| + | {{pooper}} | ||
| + | {{User|Silverstreak}} | ||
| + | {{User|Silverstreak}} | ||
| + | {{food}} | ||
| + | {{food}} | ||
| + | {{char}} | ||
| + | {{old}} | ||
| + | {{food}} | ||
| + | {{char}} | ||
{{pooper}} | {{pooper}} | ||
{{User|Silverstreak}} | {{User|Silverstreak}} | ||
| + | {{food}} | ||
{{newsstaff}} | {{newsstaff}} | ||
{{closed|peekaboo1000000}} | {{closed|peekaboo1000000}} | ||
| − | {{banned|whatfor= | + | {{banned|whatfor=being a radock clone wOw troll 2067}} |
| + | {{banned|whatfor=being a radock clone wOw troll 2067}} | ||
| + | {{banned|whatfor=being a radock clone wOw troll 2067}} | ||
| + | {{old}} | ||
| + | {{food}} | ||
| + | {{char}} | ||
{{old}} | {{old}} | ||
| + | {{food}} | ||
| + | {{char}} | ||
| + | {{Media}} | ||
| + | {{new|reason=suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick }} | ||
{{Pooperbox | {{Pooperbox | ||
| − | |name= | + | |name=DeutscheBagge |
| − | |image= | + | |image=Gphavysmall1.jpg <!--Insert the base file name here. Example: Image.jpg--> |
|caption=i got all dat swag niga | |caption=i got all dat swag niga | ||
|year=11<!-- put the last 2 digits of the year you made your first poop--> | |year=11<!-- put the last 2 digits of the year you made your first poop--> | ||
|noaddyear=<!--Put this as yes to keep it from automaticlly categorizing the year you began pooping.--> | |noaddyear=<!--Put this as yes to keep it from automaticlly categorizing the year you began pooping.--> | ||
| − | |sources= | + | |sources=Radock CLone. O_O |
| − | |methods= | + | |methods=Radock CLone. O_O |
| − | |tech= Adobe Premiere CS 5.5, GIMP 2, Sony Vegas Pro 11 | + | |tech= Adobe Premiere CS 5.5, GIMP 2, Sony Vegas Pro 11 Radock CLone. O_O |
| − | |1stmade= | + | |1stmade= Radock CLone. O_O |
| − | |realname= | + | |realname= Dopply. |
| − | |sex= | + | |sex= with dopply |
|noaddsex=<!--Put this as yes to keep it from automatically categorizing your gender.--> | |noaddsex=<!--Put this as yes to keep it from automatically categorizing your gender.--> | ||
| − | |nationality= | + | |nationality= dopply |
|noaddnation=<!--Put this as yes to keep it from automatically categorizing your nation.--> | |noaddnation=<!--Put this as yes to keep it from automatically categorizing your nation.--> | ||
| − | |youtubeaccount= | + | |youtubeaccount=dopply |
|altyoutubeaccount= | |altyoutubeaccount= | ||
|altyoutubeaccount2= | |altyoutubeaccount2= | ||
}} | }} | ||
| + | {{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}}{{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}}{{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}}{{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}}{{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}}{{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}}{{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}}{{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}}{{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}}{{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}}{{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}}{{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}}{{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}}{{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}}{{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}} | ||
| + | |||
==In Brief== | ==In Brief== | ||
| − | + | Girla "PurpleGallys" PurpleHeart (known as Girla PurpleHeart or PurpleGallys) is a current host of PurpleHeart Palace and is featured from her boyfriend's Sprite Comic called The Outsiders. She is also a member of several forum communities and a was used to be an admin on several forum communities such as: Hockeyclown Inc., The Land Of Spriters/Land of Gamers, Fox Den, Gamer's Matrix and Video Games Universe, though one of the forums got deleted due to term of service, hijacked, and being inactive. She also hosted one of the several websites: Giana Sisters.TK, Otaku*Pop Blog, Twilight Realm Blog, EroDoujin Online, and Zeta Gliese but one of them had been inactive or no longer updated. For more information about this user, please see her User article on Wikipedia. | |
===First poop seen=== | ===First poop seen=== | ||
| − | + | {{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}} | |
| − | {{vid| | + | {{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}} |
| − | == | + | {{User|Silverstreak}} |
| + | {{User|Silverstreak}} | ||
| + | {{User|Silverstreak}} | ||
| + | [[Image:amountdue1295pt31.png|thumb|right|[[Mario]]'s dreaded phone bill]] | ||
| + | The amount due on [[Mario]]'s phone bill after the "Speak to [[Santa Mario|Santa]] Hotline Back in [[Brooklyn]]" incident. Being so high a number, it gave Mario a [[seizure]], thus Mario sued the phone company for $1295.31, which he used to pay back the phone company. | ||
| + | |||
| + | ==People Who Don't Like It== | ||
| + | *Mario hates it with all of his being (mainly by cost). | ||
| + | |||
| + | ==See Also== | ||
| + | *[[0]] | ||
| + | *[[1]] | ||
| + | *[[2]] | ||
| + | *[[3]] | ||
| + | *[[4]] | ||
===Preferred Sources=== | ===Preferred Sources=== | ||
| − | + | A microwave oven, often colloquially shortened to microwave, is a kitchen appliance that heats food by bombarding it with electromagnetic radiation in the microwave spectrum causing polarized molecules in the food to rotate and build up thermal energy in a process known as dielectric heating. Microwave ovens heat foods quickly and efficiently because excitation is fairly uniform in the outer 25–38 mm of a dense (high water content) food item; food is more evenly heated throughout (except in thick, dense objects) than generally occurs in other cooking techniques. | |
| − | + | Percy Spencer invented the first microwave oven after World War II from radar technology developed during the war. Named the "Radarange", it was first sold in 1947. Raytheon later licensed its patents for a home-use microwave oven that was first introduced by Tappan in 1955, but these units were still too large and expensive for general home use. The countertop microwave oven was first introduced in 1967 by the Amana Corporation, which was acquired in 1965 by Raytheon. | |
| − | + | Microwave ovens are popular for reheating previously cooked foods and cooking vegetables. They are also useful for rapid heating of otherwise slowly prepared cooking items, such as hot butter, fats, and chocolate. Unlike conventional ovens, microwave ovens usually do not directly brown or caramelize food, since they rarely attain the necessary temperatures to produce Maillard reactions. Exceptions occur in rare cases where the oven is used to heat frying-oil and other very oily items (such as bacon), which attain far higher temperatures than that of boiling water. The boiling-range temperatures produced in high-water-content foods give microwave ovens a limited role in professional cooking,[1] since it usually makes them unsuitable for achievement of culinary effects where the flavors produced by the higher temperatures of frying, browning, or baking are needed. However, additional kinds of heat sources can be added to microwave packaging, or into combination microwave ovens, to produce these other heating effects, and microwave heating may cut the overall time needed to prepare such dishes. Some modern microwave ovens may be part of an over-the-range unit with built-in extractor hoods. | |
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| − | |||
| − | |||
| − | |||
| − | |||
| − | |||
| − | |||
| − | |||
| − | |||
===Preferred Software=== | ===Preferred Software=== | ||
| − | + | *LOIC | |
*[[Adobe Premiere]] CS5.5 | *[[Adobe Premiere]] CS5.5 | ||
*GIMP 2 | *GIMP 2 | ||
===Likes=== | ===Likes=== | ||
| − | + | sucking dick and trolling meme | |
| − | |||
===Dislikes=== | ===Dislikes=== | ||
| − | *[[ | + | *[[YouTube Poop]] |
| − | *[[ | + | *[[YouChew]] |
| − | * | + | *[[Dopply]] |
| + | *[[AbsoluteBillion]] | ||
| + | *[[RideTheCatfish]] | ||
| + | |||
==Reception== | ==Reception== | ||
| + | The Pokémon Trading Card Game (Japanese: ポケモンカードゲーム, Pokémon Card Game), often abbreviated as Pokémon TCG, is a tabletop game that involves collecting, trading and playing with Pokémon-themed playing cards. It has its own set of rules, and uses many motifs derived from the games. There are cards for every species of Pokémon, as well as cards featuring characters, items and other themes of the Series, each with a different use; artwork is provided by numerous artists. | ||
| + | The Pokémon TCG is a popular and steady aspect of the Pokémon franchise, played and enjoyed by many fans. Nearly 15 billion Pokémon Trading Card Game cards have been produced worldwide. It is part of the Play! Pokémon organized play along with the video game series. | ||
===Achievements=== | ===Achievements=== | ||
| − | + | {{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}}{{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}}{{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}}{{vid|SytSv8oVBYA}} | |
| + | |||
| + | {{food}} | ||
| + | ===Trivia=== | ||
| + | IS A TROLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! | ||
| + | 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? | ||
| + | |||
| + | But look! here come more crowds, pacing straight for the water, and seemingly bound for a dive. Strange! Nothing will content them but the extremest limit of the land; loitering under the shady lee of yonder warehouses will not suffice. No. They must get just as nigh the water as they possibly can without falling in. And there they stand—miles of them—leagues. Inlanders all, they come from lanes and alleys, streets avenues—north, east, south, and west. Yet here they all unite. Tell me, does the magnetic virtue of the needles of the compasses of all those ships attract them thither? | ||
| + | |||
| + | Once more. Say you are in the country; in some high land of lakes. Take almost any path you please, and ten to one it carries you down in a dale, and leaves you there by a pool in the stream. There is magic in it. Let the most absent-minded of men be plunged in his deepest reveries—stand that man on his legs, set his feet a-going, and he will infallibly lead you to water, if water there be in all that region. Should you ever be athirst in the great American desert, try this experiment, if your caravan happen to be supplied with a metaphysical professor. Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water are wedded for ever. | ||
| + | |||
| + | But here is an artist. He desires to paint you the dreamiest, shadiest, quietest, most enchanting bit of romantic landscape in all the valley of the Saco. What is the chief element he employs? There stand his trees, each with a hollow trunk, as if a hermit and a crucifix were within; and here sleeps his meadow, and there sleep his cattle; and up from yonder cottage goes a sleepy smoke. Deep into distant woodlands winds a mazy way, reaching to overlapping spurs of mountains bathed in their hill-side blue. But though the picture lies thus tranced, and though this pine-tree shakes down its sighs like leaves upon this shepherd's head, yet all were vain, unless the shepherd's eye were fixed upon the magic stream before him. Go visit the Prairies in June, when for scores on scores of miles you wade knee-deep among Tiger-lilies—what is the one charm wanting?—Water—there is not a drop of water there! Were Niagara but a cataract of sand, would you travel your thousand miles to see it? Why did the poor poet of Tennessee, upon suddenly receiving two handfuls of silver, deliberate whether to buy him a coat, which he sadly needed, or invest his money in a pedestrian trip to Rockaway Beach? Why is almost every robust healthy boy with a robust healthy soul in him, at some time or other crazy to go to sea? Why upon your first voyage as a passenger, did you yourself feel such a mystical vibration, when first told that you and your ship were now out of sight of land? Why did the old Persians hold the sea holy? Why did the Greeks give it a separate deity, and own brother of Jove? Surely all this is not without meaning. And still deeper the meaning of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all. | ||
| − | + | Now, when I say that I am in the habit of going to sea whenever I begin to grow hazy about the eyes, and begin to be over conscious of my lungs, I do not mean to have it inferred that I ever go to sea as a passenger. For to go as a passenger you must needs have a purse, and a purse is but a rag unless you have something in it. Besides, passengers get sea-sick—grow quarrelsome—don't sleep of nights—do not enjoy themselves much, as a general thing;—no, I never go as a passenger; nor, though I am something of a salt, do I ever go to sea as a Commodore, or a Captain, or a Cook. I abandon the glory and distinction of such offices to those who like them. For my part, I abominate all honorable respectable toils, trials, and tribulations of every kind whatsoever. It is quite as much as I can do to take care of myself, without taking care of ships, barques, brigs, schooners, and what not. And as for going as cook,—though I confess there is considerable glory in that, a cook being a sort of officer on ship-board—yet, somehow, I never fancied broiling fowls;—though once broiled, judiciously buttered, and judgmatically salted and peppered, there is no one who will speak more respectfully, not to say reverentially, of a broiled fowl than I will. It is out of the idolatrous dotings of the old Egyptians upon broiled ibis and roasted river horse, that you see the mummies of those creatures in their huge bakehouses the pyramids. | |
| − | |||
| − | |||
| − | |||
| − | |||
| − | + | No, when I go to sea, I go as a simple sailor, right before the mast, plumb down into the fore-castle, aloft there to the royal mast-head. True, they rather order me about some, and make me jump from spar to spar, like a grasshopper in a May meadow. And at first, this sort of thing is unpleasant enough. It touches one's sense of honor, particularly if you come of an old established family in the land, the Van Rensselaers, or Randolphs, or Hardicanutes. And more than all, if just previous to putting your hand into the tar-pot, you have been lording it as a country schoolmaster, making the tallest boys stand in awe of you. The transition is a keen one, I assure you, from a schoolmaster to a sailor, and requires a strong decoction of Seneca and the Stoics to enable you to grin and bear it. But even this wears off in time. | |
| − | + | ||
| − | + | What of it, if some old hunks of a sea-captain orders me to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What does that indignity amount to, weighed, I mean, in the scales of the New Testament? Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything the less of me, because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that particular instance? Who ain't a slave? Tell me that. Well, then, however the old sea-captains may order me about—however they may thump and punch me about, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is all right; that everybody else is one way or other served in much the same way—either in a physical or metaphysical point of view, that is; and so the universal thump is passed round, and all hands should rub each other's shoulder-blades, and be content. | |
| − | + | ||
| − | + | Again, I always go to sea as a sailor, because they make a point of paying me for my trouble, whereas they never pay passengers a single penny that I ever heard of. On the contrary, passengers themselves must pay. And there is all the difference in the world between paying and being paid. The act of paying is perhaps the most uncomfortable infliction that the two orchard thieves entailed upon us. But being paid,—what will compare with it? The urbane activity with which a man receives money is really marvellous, considering that we so earnestly believe money to be the root of all earthly ills, and that on no account can a monied man enter heaven. Ah! how cheerfully we consign ourselves to perdition! | |
| − | + | ||
| − | + | Finally, I always go to sea as a sailor, because of the wholesome exercise and pure air of the fore-castle deck. For as in this world, head winds are far more prevalent than winds from astern (that is, if you never violate the Pythagorean maxim), so for the most part the Commodore on the quarter-deck gets his atmosphere at second hand from the sailors on the forecastle. He thinks he breathes it first; but not so. In much the same way do the commonalty lead their leaders in many other things, at the same time that the leaders little suspect it. But wherefore it was that after having repeatedly smelt the sea as a merchant sailor, I should now take it into my head to go on a whaling voyage; this the invisible police officer of the Fates, who has the constant surveillance of me, and secretly dogs me, and influences me in some unaccountable way—he can better answer than any one else. And, doubtless, my going on this whaling voyage, formed part of the grand programme of Providence that was drawn up a long time ago. It came in as a sort of brief interlude and solo between more extensive performances. I take it that this part of the bill must have run something like this: | |
| − | + | ||
| − | + | "Grand Contested Election for the Presidency of the United States. | |
| + | "WHALING VOYAGE BY ONE ISHMAEL." | ||
| + | "BLOODY BATTLE IN AFFGHANISTAN." | ||
| + | |||
| + | Though I cannot tell why it was exactly that those stage managers, the Fates, put me down for this shabby part of a whaling voyage, when others were set down for magnificent parts in high tragedies, and short and easy parts in genteel comedies, and jolly parts in farces—though I cannot tell why this was exactly; yet, now that I recall all the circumstances, I think I can see a little into the springs and motives which being cunningly presented to me under various disguises, induced me to set about performing the part I did, besides cajoling me into the delusion that it was a choice resulting from my own unbiased freewill and discriminating judgments. | ||
| + | |||
| + | Chief among these motives was the overwhelming idea of the great whale himself. Such a portentous and mysterious monster roused all my curiosity. Then the wild and distant seas where he rolled his island bulk; the undeliverable, nameless perils of the whale; these, with all the attending marvels of a thousand Patagonian sights and sounds, helped to sway me to my wish. With other men, perhaps, such things would not have been inducements; but as for me, I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts. Not ignoring what is good, I am quick to perceive a horror, and could still be social with it—would they let me—since it is but well to be on friendly terms with all the inmates of the place one lodges in. | ||
| + | |||
| + | By reason of these things, then, the whaling voyage was welcome; the great flood-gates of the wonder-world swung open, and in the wild conceits that swayed me to my purpose, two and two there floated into my inmost soul, endless processions of the whale, and, mid most of them all, one grand hooded phantom, like a snow hill in the air. | ||
| − | == | + | ==Cast== |
| − | *[ | + | *[[James Rolfe]] as the lovable, [[ass]]loving Nerd who reviews games that [[suck]] [[ass]] |
| − | *[ | + | *Jeremy Suarez as Cooper, the young, black [[Robin|boy wonder]] |
| − | *[ | + | *Sarah Glendening as Mandi, a nerdy female sidekick for the Nerd |
| − | + | *Stephen Mendel as General Dark Onward, a [[M.Bison|general]] that is after the Nerd's gang on finding the landfill | |
| − | *[ | + | *Doug Walker as [[The Nostalgia Critic]], the other lovable nerd that reviews [[shit|shitty]] movies |
| + | *[[Adventure Time with Finn and Jake|Jeremy Shada]] as Howard Nixon, an adventurer who explores with a talking dog. | ||
| + | *Malcolm Critchell as British Guy, a guy from [[England]] | ||
Revision as of 21:01, 31 March 2013
This article needs to be cleaned up. You can help by editing it to make it cleaner and pitching suggestions on the discussion page.
This pooper is Retired. Respect your elders, sonny! 
This article is about Silverstreak, a frequent editor and User of this wiki. This article is about Silverstreak, a frequent editor and User of this wiki.
This article is filed under Characters. This pooper is Retired. Respect your elders, sonny!
This article is filed under Characters. This article is about Silverstreak, a frequent editor and User of this wiki.
Silverstreak has contributed at least one article to the YouChew front page.
The account peekaboo1000000 has been Closed. This pooper is Retired. Respect your elders, sonny!
This article is filed under Characters. This pooper is Retired. Respect your elders, sonny!
This article is filed under Characters.
This article is a work in progress, suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick suck dick, and so may not be ready for public viewing, and content can change at any time. You can help by contributing to it and discussing on its talk page. 
Real Name: Dopply.
Sex: with dopply
Country: dopply
First Poop: Radock CLone. O_O
Year Started: 2011
Preferred Sources: Radock CLone. O_O
Preferred Methods: Radock CLone. O_O
Preferred Software: Adobe Premiere CS 5.5, GIMP 2, Sony Vegas Pro 11 Radock CLone. O_O
YouTube Account: dopply
{{#ev:youtube|SytSv8oVBYA|320}}
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In Brief
Girla "PurpleGallys" PurpleHeart (known as Girla PurpleHeart or PurpleGallys) is a current host of PurpleHeart Palace and is featured from her boyfriend's Sprite Comic called The Outsiders. She is also a member of several forum communities and a was used to be an admin on several forum communities such as: Hockeyclown Inc., The Land Of Spriters/Land of Gamers, Fox Den, Gamer's Matrix and Video Games Universe, though one of the forums got deleted due to term of service, hijacked, and being inactive. She also hosted one of the several websites: Giana Sisters.TK, Otaku*Pop Blog, Twilight Realm Blog, EroDoujin Online, and Zeta Gliese but one of them had been inactive or no longer updated. For more information about this user, please see her User article on Wikipedia.
First poop seen
{{#ev:youtube|SytSv8oVBYA|320}}
{{#ev:youtube|SytSv8oVBYA|320}}
This article is about Silverstreak, a frequent editor and User of this wiki. This article is about Silverstreak, a frequent editor and User of this wiki. This article is about Silverstreak, a frequent editor and User of this wiki.The amount due on Mario's phone bill after the "Speak to Santa Hotline Back in Brooklyn" incident. Being so high a number, it gave Mario a seizure, thus Mario sued the phone company for $1295.31, which he used to pay back the phone company.
People Who Don't Like It
- Mario hates it with all of his being (mainly by cost).
See Also
Preferred Sources
A microwave oven, often colloquially shortened to microwave, is a kitchen appliance that heats food by bombarding it with electromagnetic radiation in the microwave spectrum causing polarized molecules in the food to rotate and build up thermal energy in a process known as dielectric heating. Microwave ovens heat foods quickly and efficiently because excitation is fairly uniform in the outer 25–38 mm of a dense (high water content) food item; food is more evenly heated throughout (except in thick, dense objects) than generally occurs in other cooking techniques. Percy Spencer invented the first microwave oven after World War II from radar technology developed during the war. Named the "Radarange", it was first sold in 1947. Raytheon later licensed its patents for a home-use microwave oven that was first introduced by Tappan in 1955, but these units were still too large and expensive for general home use. The countertop microwave oven was first introduced in 1967 by the Amana Corporation, which was acquired in 1965 by Raytheon. Microwave ovens are popular for reheating previously cooked foods and cooking vegetables. They are also useful for rapid heating of otherwise slowly prepared cooking items, such as hot butter, fats, and chocolate. Unlike conventional ovens, microwave ovens usually do not directly brown or caramelize food, since they rarely attain the necessary temperatures to produce Maillard reactions. Exceptions occur in rare cases where the oven is used to heat frying-oil and other very oily items (such as bacon), which attain far higher temperatures than that of boiling water. The boiling-range temperatures produced in high-water-content foods give microwave ovens a limited role in professional cooking,[1] since it usually makes them unsuitable for achievement of culinary effects where the flavors produced by the higher temperatures of frying, browning, or baking are needed. However, additional kinds of heat sources can be added to microwave packaging, or into combination microwave ovens, to produce these other heating effects, and microwave heating may cut the overall time needed to prepare such dishes. Some modern microwave ovens may be part of an over-the-range unit with built-in extractor hoods.
Preferred Software
- LOIC
- Adobe Premiere CS5.5
- GIMP 2
Likes
sucking dick and trolling meme
Dislikes
Reception
The Pokémon Trading Card Game (Japanese: ポケモンカードゲーム, Pokémon Card Game), often abbreviated as Pokémon TCG, is a tabletop game that involves collecting, trading and playing with Pokémon-themed playing cards. It has its own set of rules, and uses many motifs derived from the games. There are cards for every species of Pokémon, as well as cards featuring characters, items and other themes of the Series, each with a different use; artwork is provided by numerous artists. The Pokémon TCG is a popular and steady aspect of the Pokémon franchise, played and enjoyed by many fans. Nearly 15 billion Pokémon Trading Card Game cards have been produced worldwide. It is part of the Play! Pokémon organized play along with the video game series.
Achievements
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Trivia
IS A TROLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 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?
But look! here come more crowds, pacing straight for the water, and seemingly bound for a dive. Strange! Nothing will content them but the extremest limit of the land; loitering under the shady lee of yonder warehouses will not suffice. No. They must get just as nigh the water as they possibly can without falling in. And there they stand—miles of them—leagues. Inlanders all, they come from lanes and alleys, streets avenues—north, east, south, and west. Yet here they all unite. Tell me, does the magnetic virtue of the needles of the compasses of all those ships attract them thither?
Once more. Say you are in the country; in some high land of lakes. Take almost any path you please, and ten to one it carries you down in a dale, and leaves you there by a pool in the stream. There is magic in it. Let the most absent-minded of men be plunged in his deepest reveries—stand that man on his legs, set his feet a-going, and he will infallibly lead you to water, if water there be in all that region. Should you ever be athirst in the great American desert, try this experiment, if your caravan happen to be supplied with a metaphysical professor. Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water are wedded for ever.
But here is an artist. He desires to paint you the dreamiest, shadiest, quietest, most enchanting bit of romantic landscape in all the valley of the Saco. What is the chief element he employs? There stand his trees, each with a hollow trunk, as if a hermit and a crucifix were within; and here sleeps his meadow, and there sleep his cattle; and up from yonder cottage goes a sleepy smoke. Deep into distant woodlands winds a mazy way, reaching to overlapping spurs of mountains bathed in their hill-side blue. But though the picture lies thus tranced, and though this pine-tree shakes down its sighs like leaves upon this shepherd's head, yet all were vain, unless the shepherd's eye were fixed upon the magic stream before him. Go visit the Prairies in June, when for scores on scores of miles you wade knee-deep among Tiger-lilies—what is the one charm wanting?—Water—there is not a drop of water there! Were Niagara but a cataract of sand, would you travel your thousand miles to see it? Why did the poor poet of Tennessee, upon suddenly receiving two handfuls of silver, deliberate whether to buy him a coat, which he sadly needed, or invest his money in a pedestrian trip to Rockaway Beach? Why is almost every robust healthy boy with a robust healthy soul in him, at some time or other crazy to go to sea? Why upon your first voyage as a passenger, did you yourself feel such a mystical vibration, when first told that you and your ship were now out of sight of land? Why did the old Persians hold the sea holy? Why did the Greeks give it a separate deity, and own brother of Jove? Surely all this is not without meaning. And still deeper the meaning of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all.
Now, when I say that I am in the habit of going to sea whenever I begin to grow hazy about the eyes, and begin to be over conscious of my lungs, I do not mean to have it inferred that I ever go to sea as a passenger. For to go as a passenger you must needs have a purse, and a purse is but a rag unless you have something in it. Besides, passengers get sea-sick—grow quarrelsome—don't sleep of nights—do not enjoy themselves much, as a general thing;—no, I never go as a passenger; nor, though I am something of a salt, do I ever go to sea as a Commodore, or a Captain, or a Cook. I abandon the glory and distinction of such offices to those who like them. For my part, I abominate all honorable respectable toils, trials, and tribulations of every kind whatsoever. It is quite as much as I can do to take care of myself, without taking care of ships, barques, brigs, schooners, and what not. And as for going as cook,—though I confess there is considerable glory in that, a cook being a sort of officer on ship-board—yet, somehow, I never fancied broiling fowls;—though once broiled, judiciously buttered, and judgmatically salted and peppered, there is no one who will speak more respectfully, not to say reverentially, of a broiled fowl than I will. It is out of the idolatrous dotings of the old Egyptians upon broiled ibis and roasted river horse, that you see the mummies of those creatures in their huge bakehouses the pyramids.
No, when I go to sea, I go as a simple sailor, right before the mast, plumb down into the fore-castle, aloft there to the royal mast-head. True, they rather order me about some, and make me jump from spar to spar, like a grasshopper in a May meadow. And at first, this sort of thing is unpleasant enough. It touches one's sense of honor, particularly if you come of an old established family in the land, the Van Rensselaers, or Randolphs, or Hardicanutes. And more than all, if just previous to putting your hand into the tar-pot, you have been lording it as a country schoolmaster, making the tallest boys stand in awe of you. The transition is a keen one, I assure you, from a schoolmaster to a sailor, and requires a strong decoction of Seneca and the Stoics to enable you to grin and bear it. But even this wears off in time.
What of it, if some old hunks of a sea-captain orders me to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What does that indignity amount to, weighed, I mean, in the scales of the New Testament? Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything the less of me, because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that particular instance? Who ain't a slave? Tell me that. Well, then, however the old sea-captains may order me about—however they may thump and punch me about, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is all right; that everybody else is one way or other served in much the same way—either in a physical or metaphysical point of view, that is; and so the universal thump is passed round, and all hands should rub each other's shoulder-blades, and be content.
Again, I always go to sea as a sailor, because they make a point of paying me for my trouble, whereas they never pay passengers a single penny that I ever heard of. On the contrary, passengers themselves must pay. And there is all the difference in the world between paying and being paid. The act of paying is perhaps the most uncomfortable infliction that the two orchard thieves entailed upon us. But being paid,—what will compare with it? The urbane activity with which a man receives money is really marvellous, considering that we so earnestly believe money to be the root of all earthly ills, and that on no account can a monied man enter heaven. Ah! how cheerfully we consign ourselves to perdition!
Finally, I always go to sea as a sailor, because of the wholesome exercise and pure air of the fore-castle deck. For as in this world, head winds are far more prevalent than winds from astern (that is, if you never violate the Pythagorean maxim), so for the most part the Commodore on the quarter-deck gets his atmosphere at second hand from the sailors on the forecastle. He thinks he breathes it first; but not so. In much the same way do the commonalty lead their leaders in many other things, at the same time that the leaders little suspect it. But wherefore it was that after having repeatedly smelt the sea as a merchant sailor, I should now take it into my head to go on a whaling voyage; this the invisible police officer of the Fates, who has the constant surveillance of me, and secretly dogs me, and influences me in some unaccountable way—he can better answer than any one else. And, doubtless, my going on this whaling voyage, formed part of the grand programme of Providence that was drawn up a long time ago. It came in as a sort of brief interlude and solo between more extensive performances. I take it that this part of the bill must have run something like this:
"Grand Contested Election for the Presidency of the United States. "WHALING VOYAGE BY ONE ISHMAEL." "BLOODY BATTLE IN AFFGHANISTAN."
Though I cannot tell why it was exactly that those stage managers, the Fates, put me down for this shabby part of a whaling voyage, when others were set down for magnificent parts in high tragedies, and short and easy parts in genteel comedies, and jolly parts in farces—though I cannot tell why this was exactly; yet, now that I recall all the circumstances, I think I can see a little into the springs and motives which being cunningly presented to me under various disguises, induced me to set about performing the part I did, besides cajoling me into the delusion that it was a choice resulting from my own unbiased freewill and discriminating judgments.
Chief among these motives was the overwhelming idea of the great whale himself. Such a portentous and mysterious monster roused all my curiosity. Then the wild and distant seas where he rolled his island bulk; the undeliverable, nameless perils of the whale; these, with all the attending marvels of a thousand Patagonian sights and sounds, helped to sway me to my wish. With other men, perhaps, such things would not have been inducements; but as for me, I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts. Not ignoring what is good, I am quick to perceive a horror, and could still be social with it—would they let me—since it is but well to be on friendly terms with all the inmates of the place one lodges in.
By reason of these things, then, the whaling voyage was welcome; the great flood-gates of the wonder-world swung open, and in the wild conceits that swayed me to my purpose, two and two there floated into my inmost soul, endless processions of the whale, and, mid most of them all, one grand hooded phantom, like a snow hill in the air.
Cast
- James Rolfe as the lovable, assloving Nerd who reviews games that suck ass
- Jeremy Suarez as Cooper, the young, black boy wonder
- Sarah Glendening as Mandi, a nerdy female sidekick for the Nerd
- Stephen Mendel as General Dark Onward, a general that is after the Nerd's gang on finding the landfill
- Doug Walker as The Nostalgia Critic, the other lovable nerd that reviews shitty movies
- Jeremy Shada as Howard Nixon, an adventurer who explores with a talking dog.
- Malcolm Critchell as British Guy, a guy from England
