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Leeo

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Everything posted by Leeo

  1. Aw feck. Entropy sucks. A tip o' me hat to those that have been dragged to the next plane. It makes me sad they're not here, but a bit jealous at what they may have discovered. Life is a story, and the ending sucks, but the sequel is likely amazing. Thanks to this thread and the many who made it real. Stuka was my sponsoring Kanniggit, and many were the games I played with Berli and Nidan1. Their passing, as most do, have diminished this world. I toast those of the MBT who have passed, and all of us who eventually will. Helluva ride, eh? Oh, and I hate the lot of you. Deeply.
  2. Ah, Damn. Berli played many games with this certain noob Leeo. Aside from a healthy and well deserved fear of him in the Wasteland and CM, he was always a great, intelligent, and ass-kicking Man. A toast to Berli. "May you be an hour in heav'n 'fore the devil knows yer dead." The Waste seems much colder now...
  3. So: A whimper. I should've known.... I should have known the piss bucket would one day run dry (the day after the liquor, I'm sure). The challenges would fade. The 'piss offs' would be silent. The log would turn, and so would we. Pathetic. Where's the Donkey when you need 'im?
  4. Ha. Feckin' Peng Challenge comes to full stop. Really? No feckin' venom anymore? Holy Dorosh on a popsicle stick, has this really devolved so terribly? Berli must be quiescent. Peng probably couldn't be bothered. Seanachai likely inhabits a kayak full of dark rum. What the 'ell. Hiram? Elvis (wanker)? dalem? Lars? Lawyer? OGSF (feckin' Colorado transplant of an Aussie git)? Moriarty? JDMorse (or sumfink like that)? Holy Cripes, Where have all the wankers gone? Long time passing (gas) Where have all the wankers gone? Slow time passing. When will they feckin' ever learn. When will they feckin' learn. Tank you. Tank you very much. I hope you hate this.
  5. Let it be known; Feck you, dalem. What the hell, this thing is all new an fangly. However, none of you are. I expected to find (pseudo-venom)) the normal crap, and I've not been mis-disappointed. Speaking of dis-misappointed, my son's band finally released a video in support of their first album. Yeah, this is a blatant plug. I figure I get one free spam to the MBT, and if you don't like it, feck-off and issue a real MBT challenge. Or not, I don't particularly care. Extra points and consideration for those older to the thread than 5 years. I can't keep up with them young whipper-snappers (Fifty shades of Yuck, anyone?) anymore. Oooooh, I can hear the clawing and bickering to present a challenge in CMSF or CMRT. Speaking of clawing and bickering; i hope Abbot is paying attention. [semi-serious] Here is my son's band's video. if you like it, please share it with your friends and family.Thanks http://youtu.be/dV8IbU6nHaw [/semi-serious] No reputation has been given for this post.
  6. Last and best, you blithering pomposity of a persona.
  7. Whot the bleedin' 'ell is goin' on 'ere? I see the feckin immortal MBTon page feckin THREE! Where is there a Peng, or a Berli, or, god for-feckin-bid, a Seanachai? Hiram? Moriarty? Lawyer? JDMorse? OGSF? The missing roll call is long and sucky.
  8. What is with all this buzzing and clicking from the Oddstralian contingent. I thought they'd learned to speak Uh-mare-uh-kun by now...
  9. As ever, Battlefront is correct. Everything is Elvis's fault. No fault can be found in that. In other news, I regret to inform my playing (or is that waiting?) companions that my normally delayed turns in our current contentious behaviors will be further delayed. I was going to process and send turns yesterday after arriving home from a weekend fishing, chumming, boating, falling, bruising, and generally abusing what's left of my physicial remains. However, at my house, the hamster has died. The chain has come off the wheel. There's a spanner in the works. The circuit is dead. The doohicky has become dissassiociated with the franistan valve. You can't get there from here. Anyway, my home internet connection is kaput. Once that is repaired later this week, I will once again be delaying my turn-sending for reasons related to the seasnons, rather than gross incompetence on the part of the electrons lollygagging about the house.
  10. I say we spray them into red Polloks on virgin snowfields with a wood-chipper.
  11. Yes, I have re-treaded eternity, and it is mine. Terns, turns, files and mail, I've got a spring rush and am wagging some tail. You know, a computer is a crappy place to be when the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and nature, in all her rampant rush to grow, divide, and conquer with verdant greenery, is exploding into currents of plantagenesis. Thus, the terns are delayed, the computer turned down, the sharp edges filed off, and mail torn assunder and burned in a pyre to the Gods of Spring and Junk.
  12. Where have all the olde ones gone Long time passing Where have all the olde ones gone Long time ago Where have the olde ones gone Gone in bottles, ev'ry one When will they ever yearn, WHEN will they ev-ery urn.
  13. Just because we drink a lot doesn't make us ddrunkks.
  14. Don't make me have dalem versify upon your sorry wrinkled aspirator.
  15. The Gawds aren't the only ones weeping; there are other festering sores, donchaknow. The festering sores of corruption, tectonic festering eruption, the presumption of nefarious festering, and festers of improper nesterlings. No doubt Elvis is phat in his pesterings.
  16. To my many varied opponents; I'm out of the game for a bit, but I hope to reply to turns within the next couple of weeks. Your thrubbings will be delayed; deal with it. Were it not for you sorry lot, I'd say "I'm sorry."
  17. I am goobernationally challenged. I yam what I yam. I believe in socialist deficit spending. I pee with regularity. I laugh a lot. I drink a lot. I think about you lot very little. Nidan and I are slowly coming to grips with the fact I have assault helicopters. MrSpkr is now trying to wend his way into the heart of darkness. Boo and I are searching for each other in a dense, rainy wood (much like Oregon). I'm confident of victory in this meeting engagement. My Liege, the ever inebriated and tobacco-stained Stukes is coming to the realization that I have lots of flesh, metal, and HE to throw his way. Oh, and my Syrian clanktankerous claptraps of doom spanked the holey bejeebus out of Shaw's jarheads. He must get tired of playing the drum to my instruments of percussionist doom. In other news, I snore.
  18. Do I sense "fire-and-forget" weapons? Those of a kind wherein something something? (I blame the vodka; y'all can just blame me)
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