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An Entity of Type : dbkwik:resource/jdeTcKb6raqk5bfBTabrcg==, within Data Space : 134.155.108.49:8890 associated with source dataset(s)

A gross referred to a dozen dozen, or one hundred and forty-four in Galactic Basic Standard. Typically used to measure lots for cargo shipment throughout the galaxy, it was also sometimes used to measure a particularly skilled starfighter pilot's kills. Wedge Antilles once quipped that he didn't care if his victories were measured in dozens or gross lots, after the Verpine technician Zraii repainted and refurbished his T-65 X-wing starfighter.

AttributesValues
rdf:type
rdfs:label
  • Gross
  • Gross
rdfs:comment
  • A gross referred to a dozen dozen, or one hundred and forty-four in Galactic Basic Standard. Typically used to measure lots for cargo shipment throughout the galaxy, it was also sometimes used to measure a particularly skilled starfighter pilot's kills. Wedge Antilles once quipped that he didn't care if his victories were measured in dozens or gross lots, after the Verpine technician Zraii repainted and refurbished his T-65 X-wing starfighter.
  • Gross är en Tau'ri och är en Sergeant som blev tilldelad till SG-9 under den tiden att det fanns bara tjugo SG team. (RPG: "Stargate SG-1: Roleplaying Game") File:Jack O'Neill.JPG Denna karaktär artikel är en stub. Du kan hjälpa Sv.Stargate av utvidga det.
  • "Grossness," added the little man, "is possessed by physical things that are unappealing to the senses, especially visually. It often indicates something which provokes revulsion or horror." On the street below, the great drunken lout who snoozed nightly on the wire bus bench, lost in a fog of alcoholic breath and the odors of twelve years of yearly baths, had arrived for his nightly sleep. As usual, the rats were swarming his prone body in the darkness, probing every crevice for stray morsels. The little man pressed his nose to the window, his hand trailing off the words "grossness is, in human terms, the opposite of beauty." A pair of particularly-scabby rats, fucking on the slumbering sot's stomach, put him in mind of Jessica Biel feeling out the contours of Scarlett Johanssen's body wi
  • Gross is the main antagonist of the children's TV special Lamb Chop in the Land of No Manners. Gross is only shown in pen-drawn outline, and despising good manners, he bans them. Anytime rude visitors enter, he keeps them in. When Hush Puppy, entering the Land of No Manners to give Lamb Chop a peanut butter sandwich, teaches one of the monsters, Belch, to say "please", and it happens to everyone, there is an exception: Gross. He hides because good manners are contagious.
Allegiances
  • *Stargate Command **SG-9
dcterms:subject
dbkwik:resource/83tHTg5YyxGjxp6kTk_kRg==
hideo
  • 1(xsd:integer)
Debut manga
#views
  • 1100(xsd:integer)
songtitle
  • "gross"
original upload date
  • Sep.27.2014
lojalitet
ras
kön
  • Okänd
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Relatives
  • Three unnamed sons
Singer
  • Rana08907
grad
Status
  • Deceased
Producer
  • Niboshi-P
Affiliation
  • * **
Name
  • Gross
Romaji
  • Gurosu
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Link
  • Niconico Broadcast / Youtube Broadcast
Kanji
  • グロス
Species
  • Human
Rank
Color
  • #FFFFFF; color:#152231
namn
  • Gross
Occupation
  • Soldier
Home Planet
Gender
  • Male
Race
abstract
  • "Grossness," added the little man, "is possessed by physical things that are unappealing to the senses, especially visually. It often indicates something which provokes revulsion or horror." On the street below, the great drunken lout who snoozed nightly on the wire bus bench, lost in a fog of alcoholic breath and the odors of twelve years of yearly baths, had arrived for his nightly sleep. As usual, the rats were swarming his prone body in the darkness, probing every crevice for stray morsels. The little man pressed his nose to the window, his hand trailing off the words "grossness is, in human terms, the opposite of beauty." A pair of particularly-scabby rats, fucking on the slumbering sot's stomach, put him in mind of Jessica Biel feeling out the contours of Scarlett Johanssen's body with her tongue. The hot stale smell of burned java emanating from the unattended coffee maker in the next room recalled him to his senses, and then plunged him back, this time into delightful remembered smells of his youth. The clotted blood, offal and shit of the killing-room floor; the gummy spigot oozing pigs' blood, hair and grease in equal quantities; the joy of a crusted bucket of swollen worms, left out in the blistering sun and gone all foul. The little man, his day's defining done, felt delirious with joy; he wanted to strip away his clothes and dance, twirling in the moonlight, and let the eight-pound tumor in his scrotum bounce like a stone in a hammock. But that would never do; decorum must be preserved, much like the jar of pickling eyeballs in the corner. The little man got up, put on his jacket, and left.
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