Seanachai

Er...but Michael, what about the iris? Or fleur de lis, as some might have it?

sniffle That was freaking lovely. Okay, as soon as I finish chatting with Satan, and the beer runs out, I'll do your turn.

Send a turn already!! </font>

Well, you know what they say: 'Big gun — small dog'.

Depends. Is it a real opponent, or Grog Dorosh? If it's a QB, I usually spend a fair amount of time. With a scenario, it depends on whether the designer looked like he put some thought into an initial, possibly 'historical' setup, or just dumped the units in a pile for you to sort out. Of course, I put a lot more time into setups against opponents who it would be cripplingly humiliating to lose against, like Soddball, or Joe Shaw. I've been perfecting my setup against Michael Emrys for over a year and a half, now. It still needs a bit of tweeking...gotta run.

Yeah, I extended myself a bit, but if anyone deserves it, it's MrSpkr. Not sure who Keith Verble is, actually, but, hell, complete ignorance of another human being's life has never stopped me from abusing and mocking it. You should go to a funeral with me sometime. I'm horribly inappropriate.

Bugger. You'd think the much more devastating disappointment she suffered later that evening would have gotten her a husband upgrade. But then, I imagine there's things that even the Canadians can't really make better.

You'd think that Rose would just want to put the memories of your honeymoon into a locked room in her mind and spend the rest of her days repressing every image, rather than celebrating it.

You know, Boo, you can tell it's your birthday. You got off pretty lightly, everything considered. Check out the 'reply to all' email regarding the fabulous MrSpkr that I just sent off.

Oh, Boo. I look forward to the day when the attendants you've personally selected for me force me to eat my meal of cat food on my hands and knees from a bowl placed on the floor, while mocking my age and infirmity. How I will glory in being strapped in for days at a time, while my bedsores become infected. How I look forward to that day when, having passed from this vale of tears, you discover that the last pennies of my worldly wealth were invested in a 'retribution' contract, and you find yourself knee-capped in the park with a sledge-hammer by two out of work, tattooed and pierced greaseballs, one of whom will (and this will be stipulated in the will) be wearing a Kurt Cobain t-shirt. They will then cut off both your big toes. On this, your very most special of days, Boo, I want you to know that that's hanging over your head. Because even when I'm gone, Boo, I never want you to be bereft of my hatred. And, as you painfully hobble from place to place with the help of two canes (it's extremely awkward for a man to walk with no big toes), I want you to think of me every day. Give us a hug, my beefy, brainless son of my soul!

Ahem, everyone, attention please! Today is a most momentous occasion, as today is... looks up the page Oh, bugger, that woman beat me to it. Yes. I was going to say 'It is Boo's Birthday'. I was going to use bolding, and colours, and amusingly large typefaces. No point, however, as I see that's already been done. So, I suppose, now that the cat's out, there' s no point in this parade of circus animals I'd arranged. There was one bit that was quite nice, where a lemur, that looked remarkably like Soddball, juggled fruit while riding the back of a camel. Ah well. Perhaps, if no one has stepped in yet to upsta- that is, if no one else has done so already, I might lead us all in a jolly singsong? For he's a mighty dim fellow For he's a mighty dim fellow For he's a mighty dim felllllloooowwwww! Which nobody can deny! Happy birthday, Boo. I want you to know that, over the course of the last year, you've become more than just another, large, brutish henchman to me. More indeed, than just another loutish acolyte of the Church of Seanachai. You have, Boo become more like a...dare I say it? Like a son. Yes, Boo, to me you've taken the place of my chance to genetically inflict my own superiourity on the race, and in your own, lumbering, oafish way, you've become a sort of...spiritual heir. I've never had children, Boo, to speak of. But in you I know that, for the rest of my days, I will have everything that I would otherwise have missed. Someone who soils himself, must be constantly attended to, constantly asks nonsensical questions until you're driven to the point of madness. Someone who never listens to what you say, does what he's told, or shows any appreciation for all your sacrifices. Someone who, eventually, will be in trouble with the police, and who will break my heart with his horrible behaviours and crimes. All of this, otherwise lost to me, I have in you, Boo. And, in turn, I like to think that in me you've found the alcoholic, abusive, dysfunctional father you would otherwise never have known. Someone to tell you that you can't do a single fecking thing right, that you're foolish, someone to tell you that you'll never amount to anything. Someone who will tell you that, no matter how hard you try, your best isn't good enough. That you're a disgrace. That you're a disappointment. That his only regret is, that upon your birth, he didn't throw you to the pit-bulls with his own hands... sniff...rubs at corners of eyes...throat cleared several times HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BOO RADLEY! I'm just...going to go sit here quietly in the corner for a while...just a bit...overcome. You're a good lad, Boo. For an incompetent waster, of course.

Does that mean I'll have to fecking clean again?! I cleaned the last time he was here two years ago! Sure, my place is closer, but yours is way more fun! You've got guns, and swords, and phaser pistols. I guess it all depends on where Shaw is staying. Oh, and have you drunk all that damn beer I left up there the last time I was there?

Oh, bugger. I was asleep at the switch. Please close this Thread, close it! Close it now! Don't let me post again!! [ February 11, 2004, 02:22 AM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

Hey, Andreas, I don't know anything about this one, but if he looks like he could work out as a Mortal Enemy, could I annoy him for you and take him over? I've simply been bereft since Cabron66 got banned, and Emrys hasn't been worth a ****e as a Mortal Enemy, especially lately as he's started sending me his poetry. Normally I wouldn't ask, but I figure what with your busy social life, and the fact that I have no life to speak of, you might not mind. I think I might be playing one of your CMBB creations right now, I'll have to check, but since it doesn't suck in an evil way, it's probably not one of the umpteen Rune scenarios I'm playing. Hope this finds you and all your hypocritical ilk well, next time you have a beer with Soddball, kick him in the fork for me, will you? XXOOXXOO -Seanachai

Hmm...this jolly singsong occurs to me just now. It makes me feel better, somehow. She went down last October in a pouring driving rain. The skipper, he'd been drinking and the Mate, he felt no pain. Too close to Three Mile Rock, and she was dealt her mortal blow, And the Mary Ellen Carter settled low. There were just us five aboard her when she finally was awash. We'd worked like hell to save her, all heedless of the cost. And the groan she gave as she went down, it caused us to proclaim That the Mary Ellen Carter would rise again. Well, the owners wrote her off; not a nickel would they spend. She gave twenty years of service, boys, then met her sorry end. But insurance paid the loss to them, so let her rest below. Then they laughed at us and said we had to go. But we talked of her all winter, some days around the clock, For she's worth a quarter million, afloat and at the dock. And with every jar that hit the bar, we swore we would remain And make the Mary Ellen Carter rise again. Rise again, rise again, that her name not be lost To the knowledge of men. All those who loved her best and were with her till the end Will make the Mary Ellen Carter rise again. All spring, now, we've been with her on a barge lent by a friend. Three dives a day in hard hat suit and twice I've had the bends. Thank God it's only sixty feet and the currents here are slow Or I'd never have the strength to go below. But we've patched her rents, stopped her vents, dogged hatch and porthole down. Put cables to her, 'fore and aft and birded her around. Tomorrow, noon, we hit the air and then take up the strain. And make the Mary Ellen Carter Rise Again. Rise again, rise again, that her name not be lost To the knowledge of men. All those who loved her best and were with her till the end Will make the Mary Ellen Carter rise again. For we couldn't leave her there, you see, to crumble into scale. She'd saved our lives so many times, living through the gale And the laughing, drunken rats who left her to a sorry grave They won't be laughing in another day. . . And you, to whom adversity has dealt the final blow With smiling bastards lying to you everywhere you go Turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain And like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again. Rise again, rise again - though your heart it be broken And life about to end No matter what you've lost, be it a home, a love, a friend. Like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again. The Mary Ellen Carter -Stan Rogers

Silence! I'll hear nothing bad said about bats. You people exercise your libels on some other creature, like ponies, or chinchillas. I'm sitting here at 1 AM listening to the weird guy who moved in upstairs two months ago piss around down in the basement below my feet. Earlier, after a series of extremely strange noises, I wandered down to find out what the hell was going on and found him, dressed in a full 'extreme weather' outdoor snow-suit and parka, moving the washing machine from one side of the basement to the other so that it would be 'nearer the drier', despite the fact that the hoses then won't reach to the sinks. His demeanour was...well, let me just say that I've been arrested while appearing more sober than he seemed to be. You're all a shower of bastards, and no mistake, but I value that fact that you're always here. Or somewhere. I value the fact that most of you exist, especially since most of you do it a long, long way away. Lars, I'm moving the crazy guy from upstairs into your house while you're gone. I hope you two get on together.

By God! Is Terry Pratchett an Englishman?! Dear Christ, my dear lad, my sincerest apologies! As you know, we here in the Colonies are not allowed to read the works of English authors except by express permission of the Crown! I abase myself in my contrition. Perhaps, Mr. Gallear, you would be...dare I ask? Oh, I must! Would you be so kind as to 'sponsor' me, so that I might read Mr. Pratchett's wonderful satires without fear of transgressing English law? I'd be ever so grateful. Please, sir, consider my heartfelt request! With your approval and support, I'd be legally entitled to re-read "Jingo", which would make me ever so happy! As for your almost bizarrely pointless reference to Americans needing flag mods, I've no clue as to 'what's going on in the land of the free'. Fill me in? I promise to listen for hours, with every indication of fascination, if only you'll do me the favour of helping smooth the way to my acceptance by English people. Do you know, deep inside, I've always thought that I had the heart of a true English gentleman!

And my apologies for not addressing the specific irritation. Obviously, your modding needs were not an issue, and someone will always show up to help with that. And certainly you may heap whatever abuse your heart desires on CDV, as I've no interest in their existence one way or the other. My satirical remarks were specifically aimed at what looked like another useless, pointless, and endless unloading of tripe and teeth gnashing aimed at the vagaries of German law, and the economics based unwillingness of a European (specifically German) software distributor to create one version of the game for Germany, and another for the rest of their distribution area. Along with this, of course, went a certain eye-rolling disdain for the chest beating displays of the Usual Suspects that routinely and rather inanely wave the various 'banners' they want to attach to the whole issue, be they 'Boy, do I hate that whole 'PC' thing', to 'It's all a matter of historical imperative...er...accuracy!' As regards CDV's annoying copy protection scheme goes: Extremely valid issue. Issues with CDV's customer service: Extremely valid issue. Mod-able absence of SS symbols and the decision to side-step any legal issues by not using the term 'Waffen SS': complete and utter non-issue. Climb off the Nazi hobby-horse and play the game. And for all the members of Britain's National Front who are incensed at having to put up with the strictures of German law in their computer game: You're right. And you are not alone, nor should you suffer alone. I demand that in all future incarnations of the game that we here in America also have to suffer, and that all references to the American Army units in the future have to make reference to the 'Vespucciland Army' instead. Also, that the Union Jack should appear in substitution for the stars on the Vespucciland flag.

Who's a good boy, then, Abteilung? Who's a good boy? You're a good boy, yes you are, yes you are!

Well, thank God. I was afraid that even with the new game out we wouldn't hear this same endless round of whinging about something that's not going to change. How refreshing to find that people never tire of making the same pointless points over and over and over again to absolutely no purpose whatsoever. It's a bit like a dog going back and always urinating on the same spot, marking out his territory, letting everyone know he's there, leaving a message for other dogs. Of course the dog is usually making a more interesting statement, and after a while watching a dog piss on a tree is more interesting than a thread on this topic. But it is reassuring to see that the circle remains unbroken.

Oh, please. 'Man-hating'? You simply haven't found the way to reach the heart of a woman. However degraded by your ilk.

So, what? They fostered you out?

You're such a whore. Did the experience with the stripper teach you nothing?

Not till after charges are filed.

Collected? What, did he run the seized property room of the Bureau of F, T & A? That list had more firearms than the Canadian Army.