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What the Peng is wrong with my Challenge Thread? (USA)


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Oh. Just that ? I was half-expecting to be asked to eat a to scale butter-made Statue of Liberty while singing the Czech national anthem, stark naked and with a 1/16° model Jagdpanzer up my...up there.

Maybe you're the "globally inoffensive" type of wackos.

Couldn't find Field of Screams at Der Kessel though, is it there yet or ?

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Originally posted by Kobal2:

Oh. Just that ? I was half-expecting to be asked to eat a to scale butter-made Statue of Liberty while singing the Czech national anthem, stark naked and with a 1/16° model Jagdpanzer up my...up there.

Maybe you're the "globally inoffensive" type of wackos.

Couldn't find Field of Screams at Der Kessel though, is it there yet or ?

FOOLE! ***BOOT*** ... you DARE to suggest that one of the incomparable Ker Dessel* scenarios is to be found in that ... that ... bargain basement scenario shop Der Kessel?

It's clear you have much to learn ... I'm putting the finishing touches on it as we speak, patience lad, patience.

Joe

* Ker Dessel - When It's Called A Setup For A Reason!

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ds<SUP>2</SUP>=g<SUB>11</SUB>dx<SUP>2</SUP>+g<SUB>12</SUB>dxdy+g<SUB>13</SUB>dxdz+g<SUB>21</SUB>dydx+g<SUB>22</SUB>dy<SUP>2</SUP>+g<SUB>23</SUB>dydz+g<SUB>31</SUB>dzdx+g<SUB>32</SUB>dzdy+g<SUB>33</SUB>dz<SUP>2</SUP>

And thus

g<SUB>11</SUB> g<SUB>12</SUB> g<SUB>13</SUB>

g<SUB>21</SUB> g<SUB>22</SUB> g<SUB>23</SUB>

g<SUB>31</SUB> g<SUB>32</SUB> g<SUB>33</SUB>

Nice metrics, wouldn't you agree ?

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Originally posted by Kitty:

[QB] What's wrong with this thread? Not enough rleete.

You've got to be kidding. That guy is one of the most self-absorbed dweebs out there. Only marginally better than that hippy dalem. I even hear tell he plays that other game.

Oh, the horror.

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Originally posted by Mace:

Perhaps you should direct your insult to Speedy, Noba or the just returned Stuka?

Personally I wouldn't bother, I don't have the game, don't intent purchasing the game, and indeed am too occupied spreading the good Stuka luv'in around the globe.

(As Joe can now testify, as he was the only Olde One who asked nicely enough for a picture of the lovely Belinda from Borneo and as such is now enjoying her pixellated form whilst imagining how great it is to be me.)

Now....onto current events.

Seanachai, I fear I must cast a disparaging glare in your general direction, should we not make this Co-bollock2 sit outside in the rain for a little longer?

Are you standing in the mall handing out 2 for 1 'become a serf and bring a freind' leaflets?

Are we on a recruitment drive?

Nay, nay and thrice, nay!

The standards around here are dropping faster than Carbunkle2's grandma's knickers on VE day.

And its time someone put a stop to it.

(Or we'll send in the 'Little Leopard Tank')

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Originally posted by rleete:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Kitty:

[QB] What's wrong with this thread? Not enough rleete.

You've got to be kidding. That guy is one of the most self-absorbed dweebs out there. Only marginally better than that hippy dalem. I even hear tell he plays that other game.

Oh, the horror. </font>

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Mace wrote:

...and no metric spaces!
Nah, I just wanted to offer the proper formula to calculate the distance between USA and Europe for the interested (if any).

It's applicable even if the space itself is not euclidian. Fascinating, isn't it ?

Edited to fix a typo and in order to annoy Seanachai

[ May 28, 2004, 08:42 PM: Message edited by: Sgt. Viljuri ]

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Originally posted by Mace:

That's enough rleete for today.

Oh, hush, you. It's story time.

So, the time is nigh when little Leete junior (no, I did not name him after me, I am not that cruel) is to be born. In honor of this festive occasion, the wife has determined that "birthing classes" would be a good idea. Never a good thing when the wife oh-so casually adds, "it'll be fun".

Now, for them that don't know me, I shall categorically state that I am one of those old school types. Damn near fossilized. One of the ones that believe a man's place in all this birth stuff is to pace endlessly in the lobby, and to pass out big honking cigars to all his buddies when it is announced that the deal is clinched, and you have a son (or daughter, if you've been cursed). No, I do not want to cut the cord you twit; that is why I pay good money to be in this hospital type place. You are supposed to be a professional, stop passing the buck.

To those of you that have managed to avoid this fount of higher education, I pass along some tidbits of errudition. {translation for Joe Shaw(and other yokels): ya'll listen up, pard-ner. I gots some learning fer ya.}

First, you get to learn to breath. Yes, you read that right. Breathing. The very thing we all do (except for some of those aussie mutants) right out of the womb. Not even some special 'ninja power breath' or kung-fu 'wind of life' thing. Just normal deep breaths. "Cleansing breaths", they call them. Like all the other freaking air I take into my lungs is somehow tainted, and can be automatically purged by this magical cleansing breath. Hell, I guess I can go back to smoking all the cuban cigars I want, now. Just a couple of deep "cleansing breaths", and I'm clean as a whistle, and ready to run marathons.

You want to know that part that really makes me want to cry? The fact that I paid for the right to listen to this silly-assed crone for 2 hours each week.

Next week we get to revel in the joys of "comfort positions". Strange positions are one of the reasons I have to take this damn class in the first place, you bozos. I did read the kama sutra, after all. And for the love of all that is good and right with this world, if they try to make me watch another "miracle of birth" films, I am going to test the limits of their cleaning crews. I do not need to see that.

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Originally posted by rleete:

Next week we get to revel in the joys of "comfort positions".

My idea of a "comfort position" for you would be for you to be either strapped down on a set of railroad tracks with a fast moving train (for some reason I keep thinking Circus Train, I don't know why.) roaring towards you or seeing you supine in front of a FarmAll combine driven by the baritone section of the Archbishop Hoban High School Glee Club.

I derive a huge amount of comfort from those thoughts.

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Originally posted by rleete:

In honor of this festive occasion, the wife has determined that "birthing classes" would be a good idea. Never a good thing when the wife oh-so casually adds, "it'll be fun".

Some advise....

<font size = 4> FLEE!!! FLEE FOR THE HILLS NOW!!! IT'S NOT TOO LATE!!!!!!</font>

Mace

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Originally posted by Mace:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by rleete:

In honor of this festive occasion, the wife has determined that "birthing classes" would be a good idea. Never a good thing when the wife oh-so casually adds, "it'll be fun".

Some advise....

<font size = 4> FLEE!!! FLEE FOR THE HILLS NOW!!! IT'S NOT TOO LATE!!!!!!</font>

Mace </font>

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Ah. So I'm being tossed about by a grandpa (future granpa, whatever.). This is great, this is just great.

Why oh why couldn't I like a normal game played by normal, decent, asocial, and above all sane (or at least bearably insane, as in people who like Avril Lavigne, and as opposed to this lot of raving lunatics) 20something-years-old human beings who would understand what I'm talking about should I mention a post-1970 movie or wouldn't have Alzheimer and wear senior diapers.

But nooo siree, that would be too simple, and I'm stuck in here with soon-to-be vegetables who, when not confined to a lightless padded cell with a straight jacket or two on, must look like old raisins and actually believe you're only as old as you feel.

I hate loving this game.

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