I know that there are a number of places to get the 'remove U3'
software for usb drives, but does anyone know how to remove just
individual programs that you don't want on your U3 drive anymore?

I actually like the U3 setup, but I can't seem to find any info on
removing specific programs from the U3 drives.

Thanks in advance for any help.

dragonbones <m.lichtenwalner@gmail.com>, the broken-down-pauper and cum
swallowing mariposa who likes lethal abuse of the usual suspect with
giant garden slugs, and whose partner is a slut with a swollen dick
dungeon, wrote in
<e9a538b6-d564-45de-8997-c8a98ee95506@d27g2000prf.googlegroups.com>:

Mine has an option to uninstall if you right click the U3 app (in the U3
pop-up browser thing)


--
For my own part, I have never had a thought which I could not set down
in words with even more distinctness than that with which I conceived
it. There is, however, a class of fancies of exquisite delicacy which
are not thoughts, and to which as yet I have found it absolutely
impossible to adapt to language. These fancies arise in the soul, alas
how rarely. Only at epochs of most intense tranquillity, when the
bodily and mental health are in perfection. And at those weird points
of time, where the confines of the waking world blend with the world of
dreams. And so I captured this fancy, where all that we see, or seem,
is but a dream within a dream.

Who gives a fuck?!

--
Daemon Roxx

Daemon Roxx <d@emonroxx.com>, the hideous-dawdler and wildly fucking
charlie who likes sordid butt smashing with corgis, and whose partner is
a lady-of-the-town with a low-grade vagittyfidgit, wrote in
<47b6f297$0$8652$4c368faf@roadrunner.com>:
You sure don't get the opportunity.


--
For my own part, I have never had a thought which I could not set down
in words with even more distinctness than that with which I conceived
it. There is, however, a class of fancies of exquisite delicacy which
are not thoughts, and to which as yet I have found it absolutely
impossible to adapt to language. These fancies arise in the soul, alas
how rarely. Only at epochs of most intense tranquillity, when the
bodily and mental health are in perfection. And at those weird points
of time, where the confines of the waking world blend with the world of
dreams. And so I captured this fancy, where all that we see, or seem,
is but a dream within a dream.

Please try to have some small idea of what in the hell you're talking about
before you try to post again.

--
Daemon Roxx

Daemon Roxx <d@emonroxx.com>, the tubby-arsed-pauper and pudgy fart
knocker who likes explicit fist fucks with lobsters, and whose partner
is a fast-lady with a shaven bad ass pussy, wrote in
<47b72893$0$30709$4c368faf@roadrunner.com>:
OK, explain please.


--
For my own part, I have never had a thought which I could not set down
in words with even more distinctness than that with which I conceived
it. There is, however, a class of fancies of exquisite delicacy which
are not thoughts, and to which as yet I have found it absolutely
impossible to adapt to language. These fancies arise in the soul, alas
how rarely. Only at epochs of most intense tranquillity, when the
bodily and mental health are in perfection. And at those weird points
of time, where the confines of the waking world blend with the world of
dreams. And so I captured this fancy, where all that we see, or seem,
is but a dream within a dream.

Why would I bother? Do you fantasize that your vulgar little vocabulary and
retarded usenet posts could possibly be worth the bandwidth and electricity
used to send them?

--
Daemon Roxx

Daemon Roxx <d@emonroxx.com>, the pitiful-panhandler and quiescent
fribble who likes adventurous pomegranate pounding with salmon, and
whose partner is a hot-tailed-woman with a cavernous hairy doughnut,
wrote in <47b74d75$0$16666$4c368faf@roadrunner.com>:

Anything you write on usenet is public property; you never know where
it's going to go; so be careful what you write.

--
Lunch was nice;
Imperfect horse buttock with liver dressing and abominable spinal cord
with sunk beaver wart, arranged in a splashing deep dish with a slew of
rare uncooked cherry tomato and medley of chive in dog pee, a side of
crow rectum and a pint of jellied salsa.

Looking at you, Darwin would NOT be pleased to see how inefficiently
evolution sometimes works.

--
Daemon Roxx

Daemon Roxx <d@emonroxx.com>, the cadaverous-moocher and bald nelly who
likes lurid shank cranking with corpses, and whose partner is a
red-light worker with a decrepit pink panda, wrote in
<47b7677c$0$8671$4c368faf@roadrunner.com>:

Sometimes love works.

--
Lunch was nice;
Done in tree rat intestines and needlefish abdomen conserve on top of
hackneyed earwax balls with awful tortoiseshell cat duodenum with chive
extract smothered in wracked up jackal intestine and musk ox abdomen
dressing accentuated by busted dead animals and manatee snot marinade,
served in a splashing skillet brimming with medium-rare cancerous
growth, thin oddments of tendon, crustacean gravy, a side of cheese and
a litre of pond scum.

Whatever...you should try to at least stay away from the farm
animals...that's just wrong.

--
Daemon Roxx

Daemon Roxx <d@emonroxx.com>, the filthy-hobo and older she-male who
likes immodest rantipole riding with cockroaches, and whose partner is a
swinger with a dank cock-chafer, wrote in
<47b77563$0$8680$4c368faf@roadrunner.com>:

Whatever you say to me sticks to you.

Why should anyone stay away from the farm animals, Roxx?

As long as your opinions are delusional, you're in trouble.

--
Lunch was nice;
Totaled zebra puddings and sturgeon carbuncle seasoning con imperfect
blow flies and corgi genitalia preserve, arranged in a chilled double
boiler heaped with stringy uncooked stomach and ginger with uncooked
bologna in contaminated rat brain juice, a side of foetal roadkill liver
and a gallon of pap smear scrapings.

Why don't you put your glasses on backwards and walk into yourself?

--
Daemon Roxx