You guys have seen those sites where you give out a spamd email address to random sites to earn free stuff right? Well like most people I never trusted them. But now I found a site that I do trust. Why?

Because this one has a forumn where you can go around and ask real people about their experience with the site.

Theres usually quite a few people on the forumn that are more than willing to help you out. Everyone Ive asked says They got the stuff they ordered and are saving up for bigger prizes.

LINK:
Rewards1.com

Screw it. Im not doin the citizen tank awards anymore so go away.

Look.
Yeah... it's my userpage... now piss off...

p.s. Omgwtf I got my review banned for giving the turd of the week a bad review! ( this happens quite often actually)

This message is to inform you that the following review, which you left for gg;;;;;;;;&Igrave on 10/16/07 at 6:11:13 PM, has been deleted:

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Score: 0 / 10
Summary: bad
Review: Why would you even buy flash if ur not gonna animate anything? Its just a picture... of some kinda face with a big nose or something.
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This is kinda long so I dont know if you'll wanna read it all at once. It's just somethin I had to do for school. It's part funny and part serious. Please leave a comment.

It was dark. Smoke and ashes fogged the air. A man limped into the destroyed city. He looked around him. Small flames burnt amongst the destruction. Every few minutes a pile of rubble collapsed into the poorly made dirt streets. He scanned the area. He saw the burning cardboard that littered the ground. He remembered a time when that cardboard had been enormous cardboard box sky scrapers in witch the colony of hobos proceeded with their daily lives. But now the city was abandoned and unpopulated. The hobos were scattered into small factions across the lands when the rich people attacked. They had always thought that the hobos were a waste of space and were ruining their world. They finally decided to get rid of them. The hobos were usually peaceful, but when they heard of the rich peoples' plans, they had to do what they could to survive. He hated the war that was being fought between the hobos and the rich people. The world was only divided into those two groups. The rich, and the poor. He remembered the stories his great grandfather used to tell him. His stories told of a time when the majority of the world was well off. And that even if you were poor, there were ways to get money. The man remembered the family he once had. The man was Melvin the useful hobo, and his question had still not been answered. Is there a single rich person In this world who can be trusted? He began to go over the things that had happened today in his head.

Melvin was spying on the rich people in one of their cities. The entire city was indoors with beautiful potted plants hanging from the ceilings at least seventy yards overhead. There were 12 floors in the city, and the buildings were made of brick and had chandeliers hanging inside the windows. There were restaurants and huge houses. Paved roads ran through the city. It was nothing like the hobo city. He was disguised as a rich man using clothes stolen from someone who was now lying unconscious in a dumpster that Melvin was quickly walking away from. Melvin had lost count of how many hobo spies had been captured, and usually killed, trying to break into the capital on the top floor of this city. If a spy could actually attend one of the meetings there, they could find out everything about the rich peoples' plans to get rid of the hobos. Melvin knew exactly how he was going go about this task, and was confident that he could pull it off. But he also knew that if anything put him in danger, he may have to come up with something to get out of there quickly. He was prepared for that. He had done his homework, and he headed straight for the restaurant called The Dashing Donkey on the third floor. A rich man of unknown name ate there every Sunday. That man had the authority to get into the meetings in the capitol. Melvin needed to get his ID.

As Melvin approached the door to The Dashing Donkey, he thought of his faction of hobos, and of all the others around the world. If they actually one the war, how would the other factions know about it? How would they reach the others and come together again to rebuild their city? But he could not think about that now. He had to keep his mind on the task at hand. He entered the restaurant and sat at a table on the opposite wall from the target. He sat their for about 10 minutes and then got up and headed toward the restrooms. He rememberd that the hobos never had restrooms. When he got near the target, he gripped a pocket knife hidden in his pocket. He pretended to accidentally bump the target's shoulder. In the split second that the target was turning his head toward whoever bumped him, Melvin pulled the ID slightly from the targets belt loop, and snipped the wire that held it to his pants. Just as the unknown man looked at him, Melvin put the ID and the knife back into his pocket. The man looked up at him and Melvin said "sorry" and kept walking toward the restrooms. Success. After about two minutes of standing against the wall of the restroom, Melvin left the restaurant with the newly attained ID and headed toward the capitol.

Melvin was almost to the capitol now, and he had forgotten all about the problems that were sure to spring up after the war ended. After all, he had made it further than any other spy before him. Hobos do not usually make very good spies. He got to the entrance, and flashed the stolen ID to the guard at the gate. The guard pressed a button and the gates opened to allow Melvin to enter. He knew they would inspect the ID much more carefully at the door to the meeting though. He knew exactly what meeting to enter, and what room it was in. He walked to the entrance of room 81. The man at the door inspected the ID for about 10 seconds, pressed another button, and the door opened. This was it. This was where Melvin would here everything. He entered a large room, and sat in one of many black rolling-chairs at a long table. He looked around at the paintings of plants and houses hanging on the wall. There was a small potted tree in the corner to the right of the entrance. Straight ahead of Melvin, was a huge window. "Prabably one-way." he thought to himself. On larger chair sat to his right at the end of the table. Melvin watched the other members walk into the room and sit down. Then the meeting started. Melvin sat and listened to the others talk, but did not say a word out of fear of drawing attention to himself. And then it happened. The man who had previously owned the ID that was now in Melvin's pocket, walked into the room. With him walked in two men in black suits carrying pistols. "This is the room." said Melvin's old target. The two men wearing black suits walked around the room checking everybody's IDs. He was going to be caught. He had to think of something. He had not yet heard anything of importance to the hobos in this meeting. But he had to get out. Again, he saw the window across the table. Should he jump? He was on the third floor of the building. He made up his mind. Both of the men had narrowed it down to Melvin, and were approaching his chair. He leapt from his seat and onto the table. The suited men were raising their guns to him. He took one stride across the table, leapt, and crashed through the glass and into the cold night air. He heard gunshots behind him as he fell out of the building. And then everything went black.

When he woke up, he was lying in a small dark room. He looked around. The room did not look professional. He couldn't be in an office, or an interigation room. There were books and papers stacked up on a desk, and what appeared to be a photograph of a family next to a lamp. Behind the desk, sat a large machine of somesort. There were wires running across the floor and hanging from the ceiling. There came a voice from behind Melvin. "So you are Melvin. I have heard things about you. Melvin the useful hobo, they call you. I will first admit to you that I am a rich person. And I will also tell you that I would like to help you." Melvin sat up "A rich person help a hobo?" he snorted. "I have always disagreed with the ideals of the rich." said the rich man calmly, His grey unkempt hair hanging in front of his coke bottle glasses. He looked stressed, and maybe somewhat afraid. "My name is Richard, and I am going to tell you the secret of the rich people." Unconvinced, Melvin replied, "And I am supposed to believe a word you say?" Richard raised his voice and said "I saved you didn't I? Besides, what other lead do you have? Your chances of getting into any meetings in the capitol are shot." Melvin was quiet. Richard went on, "The rich people have invented a cloning machine." He said. "But I have invented my own version of it. Mine is much more powerful and is already prepared for use. All one has to do is step inside. But I can not get it to work on my own. It has rejected my DNA. But maybe it will work with you." Melvin decided to trust him. "Stand please" said Richard. Melvin obeyed. "Now I trust that you will try the machine? For your people?" Melvin looked at Richard who was wearing glasses and said "Yes." "Good." said Richard. "I have it set so that if it works, your clones should appear out of nowhere all over the city. Just step inside. Once the process is finished, just step out and speak the words, code green." "And what will that do?"asked Melvin. "It will command the clones to destroy the entire city. Once this city is destroyed, you will have to speak the words, code yellow, too cause them to split up and destroy all the other cities." Melvin thought for a minute, and stepped into the nine foot tall machine and the door closed behind him. He felt a shock in his feet. It was nothing excrciating, but it caught him by surprise, and it didn't feel too good. The shock continued to his head. By now, it felt like a thousand insects digging through his brain. When it was finally over, the door opened and he fell flat on his face at Richard's feet." I may have forgotten to mention the pain you would feel. Melvin gathered up enough energy, and stood up. Richard stared at him for a few seconds and said, "Just say the words." Melvin was still in pain, and it took him a few seconds to process that Richard had spoken to him. When he finally responded, he said, "Code green." They stared at eachother for a few mor seconds, and then, "Good" whispered Richard.

Melvin hated himself after that. He could hear the screaming. He could hear buildings crashing. He could hear explosions and gunshots. What had he done? Nobody would survive. He had just ordered the death of thousands of people. Was it really for the greater good? Some of those people were innocent. Children even. "How do I stop it?" he asked Richard. "Stop it? I'm afraid there is no stopping the clones once they have begun." "What!?" yelled Melvin "Why would you want it to stop?" asked Richard with a genuianly confused look. Melvin took a step toward Richard. "There are children dying out there!" "But it's the only way." said Richard. All of a sudden the door to the room fell down and five more suited men with machine guns ran in. They fired there guns at the cloning machine until it fell apart in flames and sparks. "Just say code yellow!" Richard screamed at Melvin. "Then the clones will spread across the world!" The men pointed their guns at Richard and fired. He fell face first into a pull of his own blood. "What have you done!?" shouted one of the men. "We've been trying to catch this guy! If you say code yellow, those clones are going to destroy your home along with ours! He was insane!" Melvin ran past the men and through the door as one of them shouted, "Just say code red! It will stop them!" He ran from the city, watching the clones kill everyone. He was running in blood that was on the sidewalks, in the street, and on the walls. People were being shot and beaten all around him. He covered his head and ran as fast as he could.

And now he was here. He was in his old city. It was destroyed now but he was back in the land of the hobos. Who should he believe? It was easy to believe that Richard was insane, but he was the only rich person who Melvin had ever been convinced that he could trust. What if they were all against him? What if he could not trust any of them? He had one final choice to make. He could say "code yellow" and risk the hobos' lives along with the rich peoples', or he could say "code red" and risk losing the war, witch was much less likely with the main rich city destroyed, but there was still a fairly large chance. If Richard could be trusted, and he said "code yellow," then Melvin would have one the war. He stood there staring at his home for at least another thirty minutes. He heard footsteps behind him and turned around. One of the black suited men from Richard's office was walking toward him. He was covered in blood and had a terrible limp, but he had somehow made it out of the city alive. "So I'm still in time to make sure you make the right choice." he said. Melvin just stared at him. Then another figure emerged suddenly from the darkness. It was one of the mindless clones Melvin had created. The man turned, saw the clone, and took three steps backward toward the real Melvin. He whispered, "code red" in Melvin's ear. "Just say it." Melvin was terrified. He was forced to make a choice now. His decision would decide the fate of the world. His eyes darted from the man to the clone over and over. The clone took a step toward the man. "What are you waiting for?" said the man with fear in his voice. Melvin was sweating. His eyes were still darting. It took another step. "Hurry!" said the man shaking. It took another step. It was within two feet of the man now. Melvin looked at the man one last time, then back at the clone and said, "Code yellow." The clone leapt, the man screamed, and Melvin closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes again he saw the clone standing over the man's body. Melvin knew what had happened. The clones had just been ordered to kill every last rich person there was left in the world. Billions would die. Melvin fell to his knees at the side of the man he had just killed, and cried.