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Until only recently, the only targets of hurled shoes were stray dogs, cats and teenage boys with an insatiable appetite for digging (no pun intended) chicks. A year ago, ‘shoemanship’ found a new target. The people of the world were taken by surprise as the American President himself was bombarded by a pair.
Despite the conviction of the perpetrator, the sport’s love for President’s did not falter. After beating about the Bush (heh), it found yet another target a couple of days ago, once again, however, missing its mark by a hair’s breadth. Apparently, the hurlers need more training. Or maybe its the shoes that need to be lighter (Nike Air?). Oxford style shoes and sandals just don’t cut it.
And again. I know all of you are probably getting sick of this. But hey, that’s what makes this funnier. Heh. Just kidding.
By the way, for those of you who don’t already know, Oliver Kahn is a former German soccer team goalie, and a very famous one at that.
Yosemite means literally “those who kill”.
Yeah, that sounds like our gun-wielding bandit alright. But its never that simple, is it?
Behind every complex ambiguity, there is an alternate meaning or hidden agenda. Behind every hidden agenda, there is a conspiracy theory (oh, there’s always a conspiracy theory).
And behind every conspiracy theory, there is a jew (“Oh no he di’int!”).
That’s just the way it is.
Look closely at the picture above – eyes burning with the intent to kill, guns stained with the blood of a thousand innocent (wabbits), pockets filled with ripe cash and last but not the least, an overly prominent nose. If that’s not a clear sign then what is?
Clearly, the ‘Semite’ in Sam’s name refers to his Jewish descent and the ‘Yo’ is probably a mere shout out. (“Yo, ‘Semite’ Sam! Whatsup Doc?” “I hates rabbits!”)
That’s right, he’s probably “Yosemite Sam! The rootin’-ist tootin’-ist roughest toughest riproarin’-ist hombre to ever cross the Rio Gran-de!” and ‘Semite’ Sam, Mossad agent by night.
- Cheese that is not yours.
- (Urdu adaptation) Anything that makes one dance involuntarily.
1. Ben: Could I have some of that cheese?
Peter: Sorry, its nacho cheese.
2. (Urdu content) Sahiba: Yaqeen kijiye, iss ganay par tou thumkay mar, mar ke a’zaa ki shairi karnay ko dil karta hai.
Nadeem: Thik kehti hein aap. Gaana Nacho Cheese jo hai.
I was so damn excited when I heard they were making a movie on Ubisoft’s Prince of Persia trilogy, even more so when the movie was actually released. I should’ve trusted my instinct on this one – movies based on games usually turn out lame.
Half-way through the movie, my enthusiasm had dug a grave for itself and jumped in. The movie was, to say the least, an hour and 45 minutes long torture session (a slow-mo enema with the dagger of time) for a POP series fan.
First of all, the plot was relatively weak and way too obvious, and not just for those who’ve played the game. Excessive hints and frequent, prolonged explanations made the script sound as if inspired by that of an orthodox Japanese anime or worse – Sesame Street.
Furthermore, the film didn’t feel – as very adequately put by the fellows at IGN – original. Throughout the movie, I was constantly reminded of The Mummy and Sinbad, and during my least favorite parts – Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.