Seanachai

Yes, you bleeding idjit! The only window on the block with something showing. Michael </font>

Always glad to be of service! (Chucks Seanachai on the shoulder) No chip on the shoulder, eh? (Chucks Seanachai on the other shoulder) No hard feelings, I hope! Let's all buck up and pitch in for the old 'pool! There's far to much spite and spittle in here anyway! Cheerio, old chap! /SirReal </font>

Another out-of-control, post modernist youth, mad for fun and uncaring of the consequences...

Oh, that window. Bottle of Sambuca would be my bet.

Berli's pretty much got the right of it there, MrSpkr. Besides, Kitty's kinda scary. Better to just let her have the slightly duffed up Marine. Less painful all round, and no more than he deserves. She'll whip him into line. Quite possibly literally.

Glad to see I'm having no impact on you. I imagine that when you turn your hand to ignoring me completely, you'll do an entire chapter and finish in tears. I like it when you cry, SirReal...

Bonaventure Leete! He'll grow up to be an explorer.

Michael you fool, get down! It's Cabron66!

Patton21, there's no middle 'e' in gorge... [ November 09, 2003, 08:50 PM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

Must have been a brewery in the vicinity...

No. Why do you ask? It doesn't pay to get smart with a Horseman. Famine </font>

The Devil demeans, cheapens, and brutalizes your soul, and withholds any hope of redemption, without billing by the hour.

Forcing an Australian to do anything besides having another beer is against my personal code of ethics. Render unto Oz that which is Oz's, and render unto Berli pretty well bloody everyone else.

Do you know, we're thinking of going to MrsSpkr about this stream of references to 'not having to get my women drunk to get them into bed', and such? I figure testimony from the Peng Challenge Thread could figure prominently in the divorce proceedings that leave you under a railroad bridge in Sioux Falls, SD with me and a paper bag holding a bottle of Jameson's. [ November 08, 2003, 02:06 AM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

It truly saddens me to hear that. I have always liked and admired you. I shall have to endevor to change your mind on this subject. </font>

Not on my computer, and bugger your void, as well. Resend, you Texas lawyer.

I had a friend who was a member of the 'Fairness to John Hinckley Jr. Club' They felt that everyone deserved another shot in life.

Bugger your bliss. Where's the next turn in that all but finished game in which I doubtless humiliated you, you wife bestrode manling?

You should all be very, very afraid. And by that I mean: piss yourselves.

Ooh, scathing! I felt of flutter of fear, there. What do I do now, oh masterful one? Should I cower before your wit? Or perhaps simply show you how these things are done? To wit: I hate Berli. Oh, not in the lame, rather formulaic way you hate, you cat-fondler, like someone fumbling with a 'Hate Them By the Numbers Kit', with the full range of hatred being defined by the mere '16 Hates Included', as if the palet of hatred was a beginning crayola set for a slow but pitied child who spends as much time sticking the 'hate' into their mouth and sucking on it, as they do slashing the colours of hate over the face of the universe. No, I hate Berli with that sort of fevered intensity normally only achieved by a Van Gogh. When you picture my hatred for Berli, you should see an emotional landscape that echoes 'Starry Night'. Indeed, my hatred of Berli is so profound that it goes right on past hate, transcends it, and ends up as a rather begrudging admiration, and even liking. Like the Musketeers sneering at Mazarin, and lamenting the loss of Richelieu. That is my hatred for Berli. And on that note, let me just say to 'SirReal' who has spent many minutes of his life (that he will neither regain, nor can he take any satisfaction from) attempting to insult me, that those minutes might have been better spent employed in a job you are capable of, such as 'cleaning the bathroom', or, sorting your underwear by the 'whiteness' factor. My regard for you, lad, is currently rather like a watercolour done by a bad children's illustrator for a primer of questionable value. Jane is there. Spot is there. They are pursuing the rubber ball, but it doesn't amount to Dick. Not unlike your posts.

Oh, look, the little boy has insulted my manhood! I think. It is hard, sometimes, to tell when they're attempting an insult, and when they're simply projecting their own longings and fears onto other people in a desperate bid to win reassurance. Now listen up, little whiskers. I have not, in fact, ever been moved in such a manner. Don't look to me for wisdom or insight in how to cope with internal conflict. But know this. Should I ever be moved, or had I ever been moved, to become a drag queen, then I would be a drag queen of intensity, and depth. I would be weirder than anything you had ever seen, and within that specialized world of weirdness my name would be spoken with awe. I would be a by-word of wittiness, and I would carry on with passion! But you? What can we say of you? You will always be in the shadow. In whatever role I might turn my mind to, I would always be a titan. And you would simply be a little boy in a dress. Of course, even without my ever having tried out the role of 'drag queen', that remains true.

You're flirting with me, aren't you? God I hate it when Marines find the Thread.

You're gonna set Dalem off with that sort of talk.

Yes, a festive day indeed. On this day let all debts be forgotten, all quarrels forgiven! Dalem, I'm sorry I called you a neo-Con whore on the Cheese Inquisition thread. You know, don't you, that I don't really think of you as a neo-Con?

I think it's still him. I just think they've got him on a different ADD medication this month. One thing's for sure, it's not the return of my Mortal Enemy. Gone, but not forgotten. There's a light burning yet in the window of the Peng Challenge Thread...