Seanachai

So by your own admission, then, I shouldn't have any problems kicking the snot out of Dalem at all. Send me the $5.

Yours wasn't a damn song. It was horrible Dalem verse. I did enjoy the fact that you were in pain. It seemed only fair, given the writhing horror that your verse induces in the rest of us.

Hmm...hmmm...hmm...humm...hummm-humm-humm...what time is it? Singsong time? Why, yes, I think I will... Jesus hangs behind the glass Above venetian doors His window box boasts crimson flowers Fresh cut the day before And you couldn't find a smile If you nailed it to his face But Jesus Christ hangs his head with grace And if Venice is sinking I'm going under 'Cause beauty's religion And its Christened me with wonder They come in bent-backed Creeping 'cross the floor all dressed in black Candles, thick as pillars You can buy one off the floor And the ceiling's painted gold Mary's hair is red The old come here to kiss their dead And if Venice is sinking I'm going under 'Cause beauty's religion And its Christened me with wonder We made love upon a bed That sagged down to the floor In a room that had a postcard on the door Of Marini's Little Man With an erection on a horse It always leaves me laughing Leaves me feeling that of course if Venice is sinking I'm going under 'Cause beauty's religion And its Christened me with wonder If Venice is Sinking -Spirit of the West

This is why you're no longer in charge of the tea and biscuits cart.

I can't tell you how much I'd like for this story to have a happy ending...

None of your lip! Can't you see how you've angered the Community?

I believe that during his stage career, Fionn used the name 'Ann'...

By God, Joe, that does raise images of the gone and much missed Agua Perdido. Roight! Toss the Irish bumpkin back into the peat bog from which (with much difficulty) he waded, and toss that useless, arrogant swine 37mm at my feet. 37MM! SEE THESE GNOMISH BOOTS?! THEY ARE DUSTY, LAD! THEY ARE BESMIRCHED! THEIR NORMAL DEPTH OF HUE AND GLOSSY TINTS ARE LOST UNDER THE MANTLE OF DETRITUS THAT THEY HAVE ACQUIRED BY MY PASSAGE THROUGH THE POSTINGS OF WET-NOSED WEASELS LIKE YOURSELF! You have a tongue, don't you? Get busy putting a polish on them.

Don't kid yourself. You have dozens of Mortal Enemies. You're so hateful, though, that they don't waste time with posting angry responses to you on the Forums. They simply set out to destroy you. You know how I'm paying for Christmas, this year? I'm selling your home address and other significant personal info about you to deeply, deeply disgruntled Forum Posters. You might want to put bars on the back windows, and motion detectors in the front rooms. Oh, and so far your 'Mortal Enemy's' talents seem to lie in drinking too much Makers Mark, and mumbling in public 'I see bad people'. When you've gotten yourself something even half as good as a Cabron666, come back and we'll talk.

You should have said something earlier. Dalem only lives about 20 minutes away. I could have gone to his house and kicked the snot out of him for you. Too late, now. I mean, he won't even remember whatever it was he did that irritated anyone. Punishing him now would be like hitting the dog with a ball bat today for peeing the rug last month. Dalem is a busy man. He's already annoyed 20-30 people since he angered you.

Lad, one can never have too many mortal enemies. I want a nice side party present to pipe me into Hell, someday...

It's 'doesn't'. And 'don't'. At least, it is if English is your first language. Now, who has so angered you that you have been driven to this almost magically half-witted post? Name names, lad. Everyone likes a good brawl, but no one likes people mumbling and cursing under their breath in a corner. Especially when they drag their corner to center stage. Oh, yes, we're not supposed to 'abuse and insult other posters directly'. But it's easier to work out your problems with someone than it is to look like an idjit cursing parties 'unacknowledged'. Is it me? Please tell me it's me. You can safely abuse and hate me. In fact, have I informed you of the option of sending me a card, postcard, or letter filled with hatred for me? Don't mumble, lad. Speak up.

Bring me this creature called 'Nightwatch'. Cast him down, right there. Beneath my Gnomish boots. Now, some one poke him with a stick, and make him answer me up sharpish. Bloody Irish.

Jesus. Is that nightmare still extant?

Hard to say. He's a horrible little man, and spends a great deal of time raving right out of his skull, you know. Down, you impudent creature! No one touches the Gnome Boots, other than to grovel and fawn while prostrate before them!

The other day, I was almost sure I didn't totally understand how the engine/game mechanics worked, and decided to disregard a common sense approach to how to handle units in combat, ignoring the concept of 'how would it be in the Real World?' Well, you can imagine my disgust and outrage when I found that what I thought I should, unquestionably, be able to do, didn't work the way I thought it should! I broke several objects in my apartment (of no great value, and primarily belonging to friends who'd been foolish enough to lend them to me.) After my initial fit of rage had passed, I contemplated some of the good advice and observations that I'd read in this thread, and decided they neither addressed my indignation, nor slaked my desire to see all that opposed me crushed under the heel of my ÜberGnomish boot. I went to my local Software Games retailer, and insisted on filling out a 'complaint' card, detailing how I thought all existing and forthcoming tactical combat games should model a variety of behaviours that were giving me difficulties. I made sure that the Store Manager crouched at my feet the entire time, then waited while they posted it 'To All Wargame Makers' I then came back and read this thread again. It once again filled me with rage. I decided that there was no future in 'satirical' responses, and now simply demand that BFC model the game on my abilities, rather than other, less important concepts. I'm sure that, quite shortly, a cross-section of my opponents will be by to inform BFC of the changes needed to bring the game engine into conformity with my abilities. Even the briefest non-reading of historical sources will confirm, for example, that troops consistently used HTs and other vehicles to dash into combat and dismount, guns a-blazing, to immediately assume strike positions. I know return consideration of this topic to better informed, well-read, reasonable posters and players, with my curse on them and their 'realism'.

I hate Dave H. In a nice way. Little lamby pillock.

I hate Dave H. In a nice way. Little lamby pillock.

You long for my approval. And to hit me in the throat with a brick. My father always told me: Figure out what people want, and you can manipulate them with it. Well, it was either my father, or Machiavelli. Me Dad made more money, so it was probably him. Of course, it's hard to put his advice into complete execution when what people want most is to kill or maim you. But I carry on...

You remain interesting. I imagine, when it comes right down to it, I will beat you to death with a hoe last... No, 'hoe', goddamn it! What's with you people?

What if I showed up in the biological sink of southern Indiana and beat you to death with a hoe. No, a 'hoe', goddamnit! Okay, perhaps that wasn't in the proper spirit of the topic. Well...given the scenario you posit...George W. Bush would have decided on war against France (the weakest link) with the declared intent of 'putting an end to Vichy weapons programs aimed at WMDs', with the stated hope of 'breaking the stranglehold of terrorist regimes and introducing a Democratically Elected nation into Europe.' Then he would have declined to use US troops to police the ongoing nightmare in the former Soviet Union. Then he would have charged Britain another late fee on White Papers showing how much more they would have been able to suck up to the US if the US had entered the War before Hitler's victory. Finally, Instead of bemusedly watching News Reports on Fidel holding on to power, despite anything approaching sanity, we'd be bemusedly watching yet another horrifying 'Three Tenors' special on PBS introduced by 'Il Duce'. Oh, and 'Adolph' would still be a viable name for boy children in Europe and portions of America, like Ohio and the Southwest...

It could piss as much as prescience showed it should The centipede as ever much it could The velocipede no measure that was found short And questioned on capacity, they each had their retort.

You're weak. Weak as water. All I need do is walk into the woods and simply demand that the deer walk up and lie down. And they do. Pity I don't hunt deer. The bastards actually follow me around, demanding that I 'harvest' them. Annoying buggers. Venison sausage is delicious, though. 'Course, I'm a follower of the Goddess, and you're just some neo-con simp who can kill trees. Next year, just send me the money you paid for your deer license, and I'll put it to better use by getting Dalem and Lars drunk enough to shoot each other.

Sod means... "I'm off to see my Mum today, she'll be as drunk as ever so I'd better join her" </font>

Not a big guy for prayer, actually. On the day when my sister died in September, I went out under a tree and talked to her, and wished her well. I hope for and ask of the Goddess more for Matthew. I ask that he be restored to his life, and his family. I ask that his Spirit be kept in a gentle place until it can be restored to him, and he to those who love him. I humbly ask only good for him, and his. I wish for health to be his, that the pains of those who love him will be eased by his recovery, and that his life will be a light that shines back on this dark time, chasing away the shadows of fear and anxiousness. I tell my Goddess, that, though I do not know him, I care for him, and ask Her to care for him as well, Her child. Whatever happens, I ask for peace on his family, and I ask that all these prayers be answered.