Seanachai

Look, I apologized about the 'Precious Moments' figurines, and that cat was about due to hook its claws into 'pet heaven's' curtains as it was, so I was actually doing you a favour by speeding him on his way. Are you going to go on about this forever? Next time, provide your own vacuum cleaner...

Australia is a fabulous land of near mythic quality. Pity the whole place is filled with Australians.

Axe, sorry to hear about your back. The fact that you are experiencing back pain fills me with Schadenfreude. Actually, the fact that you exist at all fills me with Schadenfreude. Your very existence is like a horrible blow at the worthwhileness of the Universe. But in the spirit of 'helping, sharing and caring', I am willing to drive to the Canadian hellhole that you call home, take off my size 8 1/2 shoes, and my socks, and walk upon your back in my bare, dainty quasi-Celtic feet. I am also willing to put my shoes back on, with or without socks, and walk upon your groin. Please let me know if this will help, so I can schedule a visit. For a fellow Board member of your stature, I think that no sacrifice is too great.

I feel like I'm reading some sort of bizarro fetish board. 'Well, with certain opponents I prefer BDSM, but if they're new to the whole CM experience, I generally prefer SWF in leather with a helping of Bukkake. If they're comfortable with PBEM I opt for DP and WS followed by a healthy serving of WoW action...'

The only acceptable are Little Kings Cream Ales! Bah! Here, we call them folk 'Sturmy'! Unless they're Scottish, and then we simply call them 'The Fair One'. If it was filmed by the Kiwis, it would involve a sheep bungie jumping off a bridge over a chasm while reading the poetry of William Blake... None o' that foreign muck! We've got the Olde Ones, and what's good enough for Us had better be good enough for a bunch of face-painted aboriginal Finns who're still running geiger counters over their reindeer every few months to see if the Russians have left them anything safe to milk... Here on the Thread o' threads, we hae a different chant: "Four more beers! Four more beers!" See? It's starting already. With the return of the Mad Ones, the weasels appear to run up every trouser leg in sight! I'm all for that!

I am constitutionally opposed to Popes. I can't be having with pronouncement pronouncing pontiffs puttering about the place in strange mini-autos, waving, bobbing and shaking like Shaw on a bad Sunday morning. Well, unless, of course, a Pope were to be raised up that was all greed, and lust for power, and more horribly worldly than your average Marseilles pimp. Then he and the Justicar (mayhisnamebepraised) could go at it like Avignon and Rome. That might be amusing. First, though, I'd like to be reassured about several points: Would this be a Medici-style Pope, or some arse whose only intent is to smile, wave and affirm 'no Martin Luthers here, thank you very much'? Would there be Papal Princelings? Would there be pilgrimages? I'm all for pilgrimages. I especially like those that involve halfwits from all portions of society, that meet at an inn, and agree to tell stories while they journey to some Holy Site. Especially if the bastards are forced to do it barefoot, in the snow, through the Alps, while scourging themselves and hypocritically begging indulgence for their many, varied, and detailed bloody sins. Man! That's the kind of Pope I want. One who assigns jolly pilgrimages that involve story-telling, brutal and unmeant repentance, and a full revelation of sins. I'll get behind and push any bid to raise up a Pope that demands that sort of thing.

Nae Kings, nae Queens, nae Lords, nae Masters, we won't be fooled agin!

In celebration of my recent adjustment in status (to normality), here's a jolly singsong! I am a little beggarman and begging I have been For three score or more in this little isle of green I'm known from the Liffey and down to Segue And I'm known by the name of old Johnny Dhu Of all the trade's that's going, now sure begging is the best For when a man is tired, he can sit down and rest He can beg for his dinner, he has nothing else to do Only cut around the corner with his old rig-a-doo I slept in the barn, one night at Caurabawn A wet night and all and I slept 'till the dawn There was holes in the roof and the rain coming through And the rats and the cats, they were playing peek-a-boo Who should I waken but the woman of the house With her white spotty apron and her calico blouse She began to frighten but I said "Boo!* Don't be afraid ma'am it's only Johnny Dhu" I met a little girl went out walkin' one day "Good morning little flaxy-haired girl" I did say "Good morning little beggarman, and how do you do With your rags and you tags and you old rig-a-doo" I'll buy a pair of leggings, a collar and a tie And a fine young lady I'll meet by and by I'll buy a pair of goggles and I'll colour them blue And a grand old couple we will make we two Over the road with me pack on my back Over the fields with me great heavy sack There's holes in my shoes and my toes peeping through Singing skinny-me-rink a doodle an me old rig-a-doo I must be going to bed for it's getting late at night The fire's all raked and out goes the light Now you've heard the story of me old rig-a-doo Good night and God be with you says old Johnny Dhu * Boo! Radley is a wholly owned subsidiary of Oafish Henchman - Here, Who Are You Lookin' At, You Scunner? Inc., a division of Olde Ones International.

We?! Stop saying 'We'! You are not a god! You're a horrible little man in Chicagoland! I could drive there! I could lie on your front lawn singing bawdy songs, and accosting your neighbours, offering to share with them 'a cooling and/or heating drink!' I could get the neighbourhood association to boot you out! I could frighten your children, and horrify your wife! That doesn't happen to gods. They live far, far away, in a land where there are no people. Maine, perhaps...

Trend? No-no-no-no-no, my dear, sweet, brain in a jar, tis a sign. </font>

It's not a Ford Escort. It's a War Pony!

How else to maintain the World? Do you think it just bloody happens?! No, it takes a whole Cesspool to maintain the World...

Did you get my deposit check and the PDF document detailing the 'Squad' members I want in my scenarios?

Oberst! Herr Oberst! Hey, you useless oick, I forgot to ask this when you originally posted it. Which Altan album did you buy that you didn't like? I want to know exactly how awful your freaking tastes are...

For all the things I’m losing I might as well resign myself to try and make a change And I’m going down to hollywood They’re gonna make a movie from the things That they find crawling round my brain

Bloody Germans...

And every time you climb inside of it, it's like you're... Well, I imagine that imagery will put you off driving for some time to come. Reminds me of an old college saying: Bend over, baby, and I'll drive you to Detroit!

Don't listen to the lunatic Tom W. It's a private club for all CM players whose member numbers are under 3000, that allows them to play the game on a private server SuperComputer array in which every single soldier, vehicle, and weapon is realistically modeled in real time and directed by the player. For a small, additional fee, you can have your enemies modeled as squad members, and when they die in the game, they kack in the Real World, as well. I've set aside a huge fund to pay for little enhancements like that...

AhHahahahahahaha! AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Finished my most recent 'consulting' position today. By that, I mean "Aimless, wanker Temp position that Firms are now calling 'Consulting' positions in an attempt to add some lustre to paid Chimp work". I have nothing before me but Free Time, disconnection of utilities, eventual eviction, and starvation in a downtown ally, hugging a bottle in a paper bag. Gods! I'm the envy of all I survey! Well, until that last bit kicks in. Even then, I'll be the envy of all the other winos and homeless guys in the ally, because I'll be drinking really, really good rum that I stole from Dalem's house when he was pontificating on the methods for achieving realistic detail on a model he's making of a something that only actually exists in the minds of 10 or 12 other Star Wars modeling freaks. And he'll tell you about it at great, hideous and bloody agonizing length, as though he was discussing the details of something real and factual, like the Space Defense Initiative (SDI)...

Yes! The new 'Bugger Their Posts' technology is working! Thank you, John, for being a part of my lab rat group. Have some cheese?

Yes! The new 'Bugger Their Posts' technology is working! Thank you, John, for being a part of my lab rat group. Have some cheese?

Eventually, a Canuckio-German wandered by. He was barking mad. The Olde Ones asked him: Is that Id in your pocket, or are you just Jung at heart?

Here you go, walk on: Peng Goes on Walkabout - the Challenge to Re-Create the World With Every Post

Old Man Berli and Old Man Peng and Old Man Seanachai were out one day, walking North. They came to a place where the kangaroos were all hopping strange, with their tales taut against their buttocks, and Old Man Peng said, 'Here, there's Aussies about. Maybe we should stop here, and Make the World?' And Old Man Berli said: 'Make a world where Aussies have been? That's no world. That's a Cesspool.' And Old Man Seanachai said: 'Just the sort of World for those that are coming after.' Old Man Peng said: 'What's that pissing around over there?' It was Old Man Goanna, kicking some sense into Old Man Mace. They both shouted a merry, half-witted, 'G'day, Mate!' Old Man Seanachai said: 'I think this is as good a place as any.' Old Man Berli told him: 'You're easily bloody pleased, you puddle of yellow.' And Old Man Peng said: 'Here, is that a bottle they've got there, on that rock?' So they all sat down by the bilabong, whose water was suspiciously yellow in colour, and amoniac of smell, and built a fire (partly to cut the fumes rising off the bilabong.) They passed the bottle. They waited. They passed the bottle again. They all gave Old Man Mace a good kicking. They passed the bottle. Eventually, on the horizon, they saw a gibbering pack of utter lackwits arguing over the best way to stuff a dingo. Old Man Goanna, for reasons never sufficiently explored, began to blow into a hollowed bit of wood, bringing forth howling, yipping and droning noises. 'We'll wait here,' said Old Man Seanachai. 'This is where it will start.' from: A Children's Guide to Hell: The Cesspool in Folktale and Legend Here you are then. You've created the world like a drunk running over the landscape with his pants down, pissing all the way. If this is all new to you: Piss off. If this is familiar: Piss on. We've got rules, and we're not telling, but if you want to talk to us about the vacuum between your ears, make sure you begin by talking about what's between your legs. That way we can tell you to bugger off. Write something amusing. Bugger all this 'Challenge' bit. I Challenge you to simply write something amusing. Before you abuse, mock, annoy or belittle the Ladies of the 'Pool, consider how foolish you'll feel with nothing 'down under' except a soft, downy patch of nothing. We're here. You're here. Everyday we create the World. Try to get it right. [ January 26, 2005, 08:37 PM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

I told ye all he was a bad omen </font>