Mark IV

He's right. First time, actually. I slam as much water as I can stand before crashing (never IN the precious 'phroaig), seems to help. If I remember. Come to think of it, who knows? Maybe I don't. Anyway... I just poured #4, or so. More like so. Perhaps the Board Police will pull me over. I've been posting erratically for some time and wandering over the lines. I am tired of worrying about work, and the Thread, and where Moriarty's return setup is, so I'm drinking and typing like a teenie on graduation night. Or don't they do that anymore? Gawd, that was phun. 0 to 120 wpm in 12 seconds (milliminutes for you metrics). Caution to the winds, spellchecker off, let the caps fall where they may... damn, that was freedom. The roar of the cooling fans, the smell of the inkjet, the phosphor in your hair... Rob/1 is the James Dean of the CM generation, I tell ya. Can I have an umlaut? I said, CAN I HAVE AN UMLAUT, PEOPLE???

Originally posted by Kitty: Adieu.

I am quite tolerant of your alternative preferences and make no judgement of their validity. Also, I would very much like to kill you and spread you like raspberry jam on a buttered scone and feed you to someone I like even less (candidates abound). However, see above. YOU will have to wait until February 19th (at least), Normal Time, as you DO constitute a distraction. In the meantime, why not drop dead, or hug a sturgeon?

It is 2:24p, California time. I have not had a shower and am on my second Laphroaig, I really am. I am tempted to turn this over to my RoboSpiter, but the relaxed circumstances have convinced me to respond personally. I have announced my intention of whittling down the PBEMs before, pending a Bizness Obligation of the Greatest Import which does not allow distraction. Upon reflection, I have determined that a war with YOU does not constitute a distraction. The setup is in your e-mail, and in an uncharacteristic display of charity, I have allowed you to play the Germans. Further, I am attacking, in snow. Even the Lawyer could defend this one. I will be the historically-plausible mix of Amis located to your immediate front, sides, and rear (and in the spirit of the times, the last has utterly no relevance to Bauhaus, none at all). It is January '45, so you will get the nice 100m 'fausts, various M1A1 Jagdzillas, and nuclear-tipped V2s. It won't matter. Have a dead day.

This isn't the place for it. This is starting to read like page 2 of a grog thread, fer cryin' out loud. Whining is unbecoming to the seriously malicious. I want each and every one of you to go back to hating and killing one another right this minute. I'm trying to set an example by hating you all, right now.

Hey, cabron. The people who know salsa (y mariscos, comprende?), they all drove up here to Fresno... We don't worry about no paperwork here, and the worst Mexican food in town is better than your pansy "california-fusion" southwest-flavored $12.95 burritos with garnish, anyway. Roll it, smoke it, and call it a flauta, just don't call me late for dinner. Hell, I make better salsa than anyone east of the Atlantic. Pity the buggers, really.

...spilling his ice-cream all over the magazine. No being one to waste ice-cream, Bauhaus began to lick the pages to get the rest of it off. That when Chupacabra walked in with an accordion. "Hey everyone! Want to hear my new song? It's called...

Can you picture: "Comrade Infantry Officer, your unit will assault that German-occupied village on foot, of course. Here is a platoon of T-34s to provide fire supportski." "Nyet! We are not spoiled like Amerikanskis. Let the tankers do some routine maintenance, we attack alone." Or... "Herr Leutnant, your platoon must retake that town from ze Amerikaners. Here is a fine Sturmhaubitzer to reduce their strongpoints to rubble." "Nein, danke, we prefer to root out machine-gun nests by hand." Americans had a lot of fire support available, and tended to substitute it for human lives when possible. So did everyone else, when they had it available. Rather sensible if you think about it.

commentary on the underwater treasures of Scapa Flow. The sniper, meanwhile, knowing his cover was blown, snapped the select fire switch to Full, and turning toward the amorous but offending penguins,...

Amateur. Now you're indebted to him. I, on the other hand, took a bunch of clients to a much better lunch at a San Diego restaurant with a much cuter hostess, and will expense the whole thing. I get the miles, they are indebted to ME (I don't care if they buy our stuff, but they will, 'cause they know I don't care), lunch was magnifico, and not a dime out of pocket. Driving back, interests rates cut another half-point. CHA-CHING. If this is recession, I wish Herbert Hoover was back in the White House... I would normally hasten to point out how stupid your smug little post was, since you had to rack up years worth of student loans to get where you are, while I only had to learn Powerpoint and the location of the spell-check button (oppulent?). I would probably add something about doing the whole deal in my golf shirt under the palms, while you shivered under your look-alike London Fog with the salt seeping into your Gucci stitching, but I won't. Why not? you ask. Is Mark IV getting sensitive? No, says the little kid selling keep-me-out-of-gang candy, scurrying empty-handed from my door, ears burning with shame. Nu-uh, says the flat little ground squirrel rug I swerved to splatter on the way to work. Not even, says ashen Croda, his pleas for mercy unheeded as my steel dragons blow fire round his heels. Non! cries the wretch Pawbroon, who did lighten my day by asking whether beating the likes of him wasn't... gamey. No, this uncharacteristic display of charity is in return for a post that was: More than one line. Creatively nasty, though stupid. Somewhat above the schoolyard blather/latrine graffitti we've had to endure in this igloo of a thread. Sharpen up, you twits.

...wurst of times, which the crew happily munched when doing maintenance on the guns. With Hiram, Mace, and the set of the Springer show to their credit, the crew was assured of a high decoration, and their thoughts turned to even greater contributions. Gunning the powerful Maybach engine, they turned the beast toward... [This message has been edited by Mark IV (edited 01-31-2001).]

I feel very strongly that this feature should be optional.

...clanking, hissing, Alkett Minenraumfahrzeug, wreathed in hydrochloric steam, intent on pulverizing the hapless but transfixed Mace and Hiram. In a moment it left only a trace of oozing protoplasm where they sat, then barged out on to the Promenade. The baffled throng stood agape as the 20-ton behemoth... [This message has been edited by Mark IV (edited 01-30-2001).]

What does this mean?

I prefer to work within the system for change. But then I'm conservative, and not prone to wild-eyed heresies. Benedict XIII was the last schismatic un-pope at Avignon. Another Benedict, X, was also an anti-pope, much earlier on. From the Roman point of view, Christians were heretics, not schismatics (and who cares about the Byzantine point of view?). So unless you're some kind of stinking Arrianist Manichean, I wouldn't pursue this, if I were you.

Alkett Minenraumfahrzeug. At least that's what the Kubinka Museum says it is.

Drapslaggin raved: ...perhaps it is time for the church to leave Rome and be off to a new Chateau in Avignon. I knew it- a closet Albigensian. Schisms worked out well for those wankers, eh? Think of me as your personal Simon de Toulouse... I visited the Palais du Papes and found a large empty building. There was a little spotted dog there with a mottled tongue, too mean to beg, starving out of spite... your Master at Arms, I presume. Otherwise everyone was French, peeing in the street and throwing shrimp heads on the floor. There is also a bridge that doesn't go anywhere, but simply ends in the middle of the river. It is for these and other reasons that thinking people sought to see Avignon administered as a Gau. Has no one else noticed that your picture of the Flak has an incorrectly camouflaged breechblock? Oh, and... mensch, you're an idiot. mensch, you're an idiot. Oops! Sorry for the double post. Tee hee.

You don't join, you endure. You can either take it, dish it out, and get accepted over time, or you're dogmeat. Nice to see someone asking about the requirements up front, though. They are: A wicked tongue, hopefully creative; witty pugnacity. A very thick skin. Tactical ability, or better yet, illusions about your tactical ability. I wouldn't waste any effort on real self-esteem, as a general rule. Consider this a freebie. This isn't a damn chat room, you know, so either insult someone or bugger off.

CHOP! Right, and Shaw invented literacy. Read the Annals of the Pool (sorry, two "n"s in annal, Macey); you were still limply arguing Brinnell hardnesses when the original Hamstertruppen were commissioned, by OGFS or someone of even less consequence. Now you come in here with your calcium carbonates and your plasmatics and your depleted uranials and we're supposed to line up and drink the purple Kool-Aid, is that it? What next? Heideman and Username on septic techniques? Ya'll are lucky I'm on the road again. Where the hell is Meeks? The 'pool is profaned with groglodyte grunting and you all act as if nothing has happened! Not surprising it followed mensch home... might as well all start posting new command suggestions and "lookie what happened to MY tank"s, with lots of s. Harumph.

Roger that. Purple intercept decode came too late on that one, but at least I only bought a glass. Ecchhh.

Torn between the most hateable city in America, and the team that was shoplifted from Cleveland... even with a Fresburgian quarterback... ...I gotta, for the first time in my life, take an NY team. If they both lost it would be OK with me, though. The Red Wings would skate circles around, and beat the snot out of, both of 'em, and be entertaining in the process. So would a green Sicherung squad.

Chuppie, thanks for the link (hope I win). I have been amazed by the quality of the scotch distillery websites; the Highland Park link is no exception. Did you try the 3D Quicktime panorama of the Stonehenge type monuments on the isle? Obligatory WWII content: The Orkneys are home to Scapa Flow, final resting place of the WWI German U-boat fleet, not to mention the HMS Royal Oak and other fine ships, and, alas, many of their crew (seems the British decided U-boats were quite out of vogue after 1918, and saw no reason to add submarine defenses at the outbreak of WWII). There is a beautiful panorama of the Flow on this site as well, suitable for screen-saving.

Well, well. Look who's grown a pair... of lungs, great blowhard that he is. The skulking Lawyer. A word of introduction for this fine gentleworm to the Cesspool: He should have been here long ago, but didn't have the guts, I having spilled them all in France in the Original Lawyer's Challenge. I have the Trophy to prove it, ensconced in a Place of Honor, somewhere under my white laundry. Didn't see him chortling here 'bout that one, did we? What a godawful bloody massacre. My men were sick for weeks at the carnage, though nausea was the only injury they suffered. Yes, he was able to eke something Minor out of our last affair, despite the most laughable advance in history, thanks to overwhelming numbers and my experimental defense, which hinged on antiaircraft trucks. 'Struth, I had so much fun mulching Germanboy's paratroops with the Sfkz 7/1 or whatever the hell it is, I got a little carried away, and the Lawyer had a lucky day. He still died in droves and somewhere I've got the numbers to prove it. Please join me in spurning and scorning him. Do not fear a game with him, he is a graduate cum laud of the Seanachai & Babra Center for Armor Management and his forces will consist entirely of foot by turn 4. I also have his picture and will post it to Lorak unless $50,000 USD are posted to my account within 24 hours, though this is probably a meaningless threat to a shameless Lawyer. About that fish (as I told Lorak): We were both taken by the Japanese at about the same time. Shortly after the picture was taken, the fish was killed. I am forced to take its place in the work details now.

Behold, the Pod. That, unfortunately, is remarkably close to the picture I had formed of Peng. I bitterly resent being posted next to him, particularly since he has a shot and a beer, and I have a girl and a fish. Sh*t end of the stick, again. On the other hand (looking at the bright side), the beer's a Bud and the glass is probably furniture polish. Note that his lower, reptilian thorax has been cropped out of the picture. Thank god this is a big country, and that in RL we are separated by the equivalent of 10 or 11 large European countries. It is not difficult to picture this man setting winos on fire, or decapitating parking meters with a pipe-cutter.