Seanachai

Dalem, Lars, when are we going to finish that game? You know, I don't think Italy is going to win it...

I've changed my mind. Instead of a Squire, let's make him a potted plant. The sort that is rather scraggly, and sits unobtrusively in a rather too large and rather deep pot in one corner, which, at any party that a British football fan is invited to, will be resoundingly thrown-up into at 2 AM.

With the singular difference that Hitler was actually able to gain and keep power, and you're lucky to manage to urinate without help. Nonsense. Rleete is, as they say, a 'pillar of the community'. In his case, this means that he's rather like a bit of facade whose only purpose is to appear solid and bear up dead weight, although for all practical purposes he's probably ornamental and serves no actual purpose at all. Besides which, I doubt that Roger's wife would allow him to have a basement filled with such stuff. He keeps it in a private locker in the basement of the local lodge he belongs to.

Isn't that idiot 37mm a Squire yet? Oh, did I mention that Slapdragon is back?

Whoever wins or loses, Dalem, I know that a vote for Dalem is a vote for all that is both best and most vile in humanity. I will only shoot half of you. I look forward to your continued firearm instruction in order to make sure I shoot the right half. So, I'm sitting here and clearly it's all coming down to Boo Radley. Can he deliver more than whinging defenses of his status as the Juniour Justicar? Will Ohio be ours, or yours? And will there be a toy surprise?

Upon which my boot will be firmly stamped next time we meet... </font>

And remember, vote early, vote often!!! </font>

Upon which my boot will be firmly stamped next time we meet...

In any 'Meritocracy', any rank of merit is soon up for sale. There is only one 'rank' here: Knight. Any title of standing is an illusion. The 'Olde Ones' aren't a standing, they're a state of being. The Seniour Knights are simply 'the forefathers' of contemporary idiocy. There are offices held, whose duties are often vague, bizarre, or completely insane. They are held by Knights. SSNs are simply tourists. Serfs are tourists who decide they like life on the shores of the Cesspool. Squires are Serfs willing to go swimming. Knights are Squires who've learned how to maneuver a boat.

climbs a chair to administer a resounding 'slap' to the back of Boo's head slides glasses down to the end of his nose to peer over them at Joe Shaw in a pointed manner Halitosis. Bathing habits. Boring. What would Marcus Aurelius have said about the two of you? Probably nothing. So let us turn, instead, to that most discerning of literature's philosophers, Mr. Kurtz: "The horror, the horror...exterminate the brutes!"

I was once thrown out of the 'Nite City Disco' in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. The only other person thrown out was a drunk Indian in a torn flannel shirt and dirty jeans. I felt in good company. Everyone inside had been dressed like a casting call for 'Saturday Night Fever'. Everyone in 'Eyes Wide Shut' were perverts. And not even particularly interesting perverts.

Odd that... I always saw him as an Emily Dickenson fan </font>

gasp, gasp Dalem Reads Ayn Rand! And likes it! Thank the gods I can still type... Getting to the pisser is going to be a challenge, though.

BLIND! I'VE GONE BLIND! GODS, IT HURTS! HORRIBLE VERSIFICATION!

Evolution is a slow, hit or miss process, Joe. It might take decades for Tim to change.

I, as an Olde One of the Peng Challenge Thread, do herein declare that Tim the Enchanter is not Gaylord Focker! I ask that all right thinking folk regard the disturbing phenomenon of 'Tim the Enchanter' simply as an example of parallel evolution. That is, the development of similarities in separate but related evolutionary lineages through the operation of similar selective factors on both lines. Tim simply acts like Gaylord because of evolutionary imperatives. Trolling, delusions of grandeur and persecution complexes produce similar posting styles.

Dalem does not love George W. He simply hates America more.

One but she's way out of your reach. Get it? Out of your reach...because you're so small? Boy sometimes i crack myself up. </font>

No, he's not. He's a roight bastard, the gods love him.

Hell gapes wide, and, somehow, invitingly. Berli assures me, Shakespearean aficionado that he is, that there will be no versifications by Dalem in Hell. 'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished for...

As the seas haven't yet boiled off into the ether, nor life been eradicated from the planet, nor the stars burnt out in the last gasp of entropy, no. But that's not going to stop you, is it?

You mean they have the ability to procreate? I'm gonna have nightmares about this. </font>

Doesn't his height advantage frighten you? [/QB]

I'm pretty sure it was your cat that tossed that drink into my lap. I demand that the rapiers be brought up earlier in the evening next time, so that I might engage Joe the Cat in a duel of honour.

I imagine that quite soon we will see a day when the Vodka will deny Leeo three times... </font>