Seanachai

You're just bitter because I pointed out (quite accurately), that you were arguing like a complete and utter halfwit out in the Real World. It's alright, Hortlund, fellow me lad. In here, no one can tell from your posts that you've got your underwear on back to front and on over your pants...

Sorry, been to the Pirates of Penzance tonight, and then...er, well, we stopped off at this bar because it was raining, don't you know. I've spent two weeks trying to get things to work on my old computer that I'm giving to a friend with no success at all, and that I got working tonight in 30 minutes. How'd you do it, Seanachai, I hear you asking? And I reply: No fecking idea at all, I accomplished loading the update disk images, (which previously gave me endless error messages like '-157 system error encountered') installing the two system updates which could only be accessed via the previous disk image mounts (which previously quit after 4 minutes with endless messages 'can't find any freaking thing that should be completely apparent, oops a daisy, bugger off), and getting the monitor to work (which, when the computer was hooked up to it, would cause the 'can't find operating system' icon to appear on the screen every time). How did you do it, Seanachai, I hear you asking yourself yet again? No clue. Did it all dead drunk. Two weeks of sober, logical, painstaking and patient work resulted in complete ****e, and 30 minutes of drunken 'hit this, load that, bugger the fecking error message', and the system's completely updated and the monitor works like a charm. I am the very model of a modern cyber-technician. Been thinking about you all a great deal lately, which may explain my descent from the sober, stalwart, above-board sort of fellow we all know me to be, at heart. Still, I know that even when I descend to your level (or levels, because you buggers are like Hell's own terraced version of 'the Hanging Gardens of Babylon'), I know that, though I may tower over you like a colossus, and though you are cockroaches scurrying from the light of my intellect towards the safety of the grease stain under the old stove, we are still capable of a meeting of minds. We share that eternal bond: A jolly singsong, and the certain knowledge that you're all a bunch of likable halfwits, and I am your master. Sorry, ego's been kicking in a bit again. Still, no harm done for telling the truth, even if it's not done as diplomatically as it might have been.

Do you know, I once ran into Salma Hayek in a truck stop, where I had a 'American Ranch Breakfast' with her, and her entourage and bodyguards all around. I asked her for the syrup. She asked me for that weird ****e that women put into their coffee, that apparently mimics sugar. Don't take much more then that, sometimes, to forge a link. I described you to her, and she said you sounded 'icky'. She kissed me on the cheek when we parted company. Every night I remember her there in that truck stop in Arizona, with her hair bound back, and no make-up, and looking very tired. And she simply fecking murdered a round of eggs, ham, american fries, and toast. Rye toast. I've still got her private phone number. But she made me promise I wouldn't ever give it out to someone as lame as you. She was very beautiful. Even with no make-up. Did I mention that?

Wow, and if your Alien Masters put in a chip that allows you to use English like someone who isn't lazy and half-educated, the sky's the limit, eh?

What's that, Boo? What's that, boy? Seanachai's trapped in the old mine, and needs a handful of thorazine? Go on, boy! Lead us there!

Oh Miss Barbara, I've been bad. Very, very bad. Spank me, you saucy Ohio teaching wench. Harder, harder! Now get down on your knees and beg me to put my head down for nap time! That's right, Miss Barbara, Do Be a wicked teacher, Don't Be a good girl! C'mon, baby, let's do it in front of the Magic Mirror! Boo's childhood was actually cut from the movie 'Caligula' because it was too graphic and degraded. [ June 04, 2004, 11:46 PM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

In Cheery Waffle Thread X2, I would also like to see all Finns sealed into a 50 gallon steel drum with a wolverine and sent rolling down a rocky slope.

Bah! I wave my hand at the sun! Only weaklings clinging to the failed promises of an outmoded diurnal system pay any attention to the sun.

Hold on, you might want to check out the GF in a while. I think Boo is going to break down and confess all of his disturbing fantasies concerning Miss Betty and Romper Room...

Shouldn't you be falling off your boat or something? I imagine you'll never own a PDA until they make one that can survive total immersion

Well, maybe. Seems a little mild, though.

Who's he talking to? Why is he quoting me and then abusing the Grogs? Someone check his meds...

Oh, and Dalem, I thought you should know that your Thread title actually made me throw-up. I wasn't drunk, or ill, or weakened, nor even particularly desirous of vomiting. It's just that after reading your Thread title, throwing up seemed preferable than explaining to you, yet again, what an endless, aimless half-witted pillock with 'no more sense of shame than a cat coughing up a hairball on an expensive rug' you are. I've decided that paying pre-teen Hmong prostitutes to read Harry Potter books to me in sleazy motel rooms while I play backgammon on my PDA is less personally degrading than allowing you to start up another Cesspool Thread. So you've got that going for you. Don't push it. Christ, you come up with the worst, the very fecking worst, Thread titles ever.

Hmmm. I think I'd like to see Axe2121 remodeled to be less Canadian...you know, less ineffectual. I think I'd like to see Snarker beefed up a bit, intellectually speaking. With maybe the ability to show that he's ever read a fecking book, you know? And Dave H...I think it would be enough to show that he has a darker side. Perhaps some passages where he admits he gets a bit weakened in the morality department when contemplating very young teenage girls. Every hero should have a disturbing personal flaw, and that one is at least horrendously enjoyable, while still inspiring a sick and certain sense of guilt and despair. As for Soddball...well, I think in the Cheery Waffle Thread X2, he should simply be tossed into a sawdust pit armed only with a blunt letter opener and a staple remover to fight to the death with Donald Rumsfeld. And I want him to take his time over it. Because I haven't any doubts that Soddball would win. I just want him to win really, really slowly.

Deary, deary me! There's nothing like trying to patronize an answer out of people, I've always said! Did you see where he called me a halfwit? I like that. Like I'd use that much intellect on someone who pops in to post 'questions for discussion' like someone with a clipboard preparing to grade the answers. I'm not after using more than a quarter of my full wit to jump through the flaming poodle hoops of your mighty 'I will set you all a discussion task' thread. Oh, how rebellious I feel! Wait till Headmaster SKELLEN (were all the lower case letters busy abusing serfs somewhere, and couldn't shuffle into line in time to make a screenname?), finds out that I've not only forgotten how to bob my head in an appropriately obsequious manner, but that I'm not even wearing clean undewear on my head while I'm bobbing! The shame! I imagine a letter home will follow. But I will persevere in my error and pride, be it ever so egregious, and not jump about like a frog before a concert master's baton (improbable image that it is) simply because some bugger sets a topic and then, er, 'invites' us to debate it. Also, I was primarily after abusing Grog Dorosh, which is simply a good thing in and of itself, and needs justifying to no man. Certainly not any man that's had to read a significant portion of his freaking thousands of posts, and I have.

I'm a bugger for romance, what am I, eh?

Is this a dagger I see before me? Well, no...I mean, it wasn't exactly a rhetorical question. More like a metaphor. I mean, what I was thinking, is, I'm after reading the Peng Challenge Thread, and I feel the very real possibility that I'm thrusting something destructive and unpleasant repeatedly through my eyes and into my brain. Not something pointed, or sharp, either. Nothing good. Nothing that would make one think of 'rapier wit', or 'cutting irony'. In fact, I feel like I've been repeatedly plunging some sort of odd Japanese toy into my brain. A 'Hello Kitty' pen&pencil holder, say, or a Totoros doll. An unpleasant sensation, to be sure.

Indeed, lad, but as we both know, life isn't all pretty little stories. But, generally speaking, the songs are good. And the stories, if told properly, lift the heart. For the rest, there's always the combat between sad old men, and boisterous newcomers. Send us a setup, lad. I'm thinking of beginning to play again. I've been a bit weary. But I think life is still life.

Do you know, there's always something to be learned, always something to be gained. I'm a fatuous old fool, what am I, eh? Rleete mocks me, all abuse me. But I remember...everything. And I enjoy everything. Not many can make that claim. Pale was the wounded knight that bore the rowan shield Loud and cruel were the raven's cries that feasted on the field Saying "Beck water cold and clear will never clean your wound There's none but the witch of the Westmoreland can make thee hale and sound So turn, turn your stallion's head 'til his red mane flies in the wind And the rider of the moon goes by and the bright star falls behind." And clear was the paley moon when his shadow passed him by Below the hills were the brightest stars when he heard the owlet cry Saying "Why do you ride this way, and wherefore came you here?" "I seek the Witch of the Westmorland that dwells by the winding mere." And it's weary by the Ullswater and the misty brake fern way Til through the cleft in the Kirkstane Pass the winding water lay He said "Lie down, my brindled hound and rest ye, my good grey hawk And thee, my steed may graze thy fill for I must dismount and walk, But come when you hear my horn and answer swift the call For I fear ere the sun will rise this morn ye will serve me best of all" And it's down to the water's brim he's born the rowan shield And the goldenrod he has cast in to see what the lake might yield And wet rose she from the lake, and fast and fleet went she One half the form of a maiden fair with a jet black mare's body And loud, long and shrill he blew til his steed was by his side High overhead the grey hawk flew and swiftly did he ride Saying "Course well, my brindled hound, and fetch me the jet black mare Stoop and strike, my good grey hawk, and bring me the maiden fair" She said "Pray, sheathe thy silvery sword. Lay down thy rowan shield For I see by the briney blood that flows you've been wounded in the field." And she stood in a gown of the velvet blue, bound round with a silver chain And she's kissed his pale lips once and twice and three times round again And she's bound his wounds with the goldenrod, full fast in her arms he lay And he has risen hale and sound with the sun high in the day And she said "Ride with your brindled hound at heel, and your good grey hawk in hand There's none can harm the knight who's lain with the Witch of the Westmorland." "Witch of the Westmoreland" -Archie Fisher

Where's that French bugger? Isn't life wonderful? Apparently, despite the imminence of death, clowns dance, mummer's mum, and we all fecking carry on. Get that fecking French idjit over here to slip on a hand puppet and give my arse a good scritch scratch. Here, Lancelot, leave off talking with that beloved idjit Shaw, and tell me a single good, true thing. That's what it boils down to, here in the Peng Challenge Thread. Tell us all one, good, true thing.

Are you talking to me, or are you chewing a brick? </font>

Bless you, my child. </font>

The gods do not hate a Waffler, they simply long for his conversion. A Goodaler who's found his own way to a better place is a treasure. The rest are like so much discarded detritus during a family clamming expedition...

My gods, I hate Dorosh! That bastard. I feel better, somehow. Is Dorosh in pain?

What the hell do you want Michael Dorosh, eye candy or gameplay? Of course I'm not suggesting BFC is the only company capable of making realstic wargames, but the point I was trying to make was could any other company make this particular type of game and as good, in the same way any other company could make a Nintendo game as good as Nintendo for example. Of course eye candy is nice, but great graphics do not a great game make and gameplay should always come first and I admire BFC for this way of thinking and hence the topic title. [/QB]</font>