Seanachai

My understanding is that the former Ranger, now herder, and his two trained attack dogs did no damage, but the sheep were vicious, and savaged Berli up a treat. This is your influence, Mace. You and your per-verse 'abits are having a markedly bad influence on the poor wee lambs, turnin' 'em from their peaceful, domesticated, wooly browsing to savage self-defense and avowals of 'no more lamb kebabs', bleated at the top volume possible for an animal with it's teeth sunk deep into Berli's legs. And it wasn't that they were afraid of being 'eaten', Mace.

My understanding is that the former Ranger, now herder, and his two trained attack dogs did no damage, but the sheep were vicious, and savaged Berli up a treat. This is your influence, Mace. You and your per-verse 'abits are having a markedly bad influence on the poor wee lambs, turnin' 'em from their peaceful, domesticated, wooly browsing to savage self-defense and avowals of 'no more lamb kebabs', bleated at the top volume possible for an animal with it's teeth sunk deep into Berli's legs. And it wasn't that they were afraid of being 'eaten', Mace.

I bet MrSpkr's wife is a Kennedy Democrat...

I bet MrSpkr's wife is a Kennedy Democrat...

In which room?

In which room?

Indeed I have, Gotz von Berlichtigen, indeed I have. Because what this Board has in almost astonishing sufficiency is 'boys', and not enough 'men'. Have I seen a challenge to myself that was worth the spit on tissue to wipe it away as a bad smudge? I have not. Have I seen any sort of insult that would make me even look up from my glass of stout long enough to sneer, lately? No, I have not. Has anyone offered me a challenge, posted a bit of back-and-forth, or amused me by the depth of their understanding, lately? Fecking well not. I cannot tolerate this. It has gone on too long. For every poodle, boy, Goodaler, or man who can get a nod from me, I will write them an original poem. And there won't be any sodding limericks! Well, except, perthaps, for the Goodalers. And they'll have to say that's what they want.

Indeed I have, Gotz von Berlichtigen, indeed I have. Because what this Board has in almost astonishing sufficiency is 'boys', and not enough 'men'. Have I seen a challenge to myself that was worth the spit on tissue to wipe it away as a bad smudge? I have not. Have I seen any sort of insult that would make me even look up from my glass of stout long enough to sneer, lately? No, I have not. Has anyone offered me a challenge, posted a bit of back-and-forth, or amused me by the depth of their understanding, lately? Fecking well not. I cannot tolerate this. It has gone on too long. For every poodle, boy, Goodaler, or man who can get a nod from me, I will write them an original poem. And there won't be any sodding limericks! Well, except, perthaps, for the Goodalers. And they'll have to say that's what they want.

And you, my little Poodle's Get, may as well call me 'Daddy', as I'm as close as you're likely to get to any sense of family that actually wants to hear what you have to say. Do you bandy words 'about' me, sirrah, for it's bloody damn well apparent that you've neither the hair nor the dangly bits to bandy words 'with' me! Are you going to continue this maiden's dance around the 'maypole' of my person, or are you going to come into the by the gods awful Peng Challenge Thread and try and show a patch of downy hair that would make me acknowledge you as a man? I'm after thinking that all your recent remarks are like those of a girl, or certain boys, that want to be treated roughly by the objects of their unsteady and uncertain affections, but do not have the courage to admit it. If you want to trade insults, taunts, and words with me, you little lamb, you'd best go on over to the Peng Challenge Thread and take more than some Master Goodale inspired bit of courage with you, you mincing bit of muddled manhood.

Uh oh. We got laws about that kinda thing here in Anoka County. </font>

Uh oh. We got laws about that kinda thing here in Anoka County. </font>

I will give you the benefit of an amusement you have not earned, and assume you mean that you're only amused by my antics when you've been drinking New World whisky, rather than giving a nod to your 'wry' sense of humour. Yes, lad, but I am strong, and will overcome my sense of amusement, not to mention amazement, and I will do my best to raise you up right, in the way that you are to go, and you will become one of my little lambs. I will never, ever lad, say 'ya'll' which is an abomination onto the Mother Tongue, and only really stupid American Southerners say ****e like that. I do not picture myself as an, er...what was your conflicted, bisexual reference to sun drenched beaches? In any case, lad, I am a short, fat, jolly bugger who looks as 'at home' on a beach as an Australian looks 'at home' in a college of letters, or pretty much anyplace other than a pub, knocking shop, or place of incarceration. Given that, I do want to be like you. It's just the wit, intelligence, and savoir faire that are standing in my way. I shall read your posts with attention and a studied urgency, so that I may myself in time become just as 'Australian' as the rest of you primitive pouched marsupials. That transition, will, finally, free me from the burden of superiourity that you lot never, ever can feel.

Ahaa. Yes. It will be a smooth transition for everyone involved I'm sure. Some small minor tiny puny and insignificant modifications, yes, perhaps. No one will notice a thing. You may rest assured. </font>

Yay, verily. See the Revelation of my Power. Shall we read from the Big Book O' Seanachai? For He shall cause the very Grogs of the field to bestir themselves from their fields, and abandon their cuds, and make merry jest and mock, and behave all prankish. By this you shall know that He is come amongst you. I was after watching that whole PBS 'Warriour Queen/Boudica' thing the other night, having been alerted to it by my faithful, gormless henchman Boo Radley, and, while cheering and hooting for General Suetonius, who had a right proper military attitude towards pretty much everything, I took very careful note of an interesting thought, which is to follow, so wait for it. Old Claudius was a bit of a caution, wasn't he? Not one to stand on ceremony, I thought. All for inter-marriage as the means of bringing people together and civilizing by everyone having to learn to sleep in one big bed, eh? Made me bloody thoughtful, so it did. And I couldn't help but notice that, despite his very nice and unassuming character, not to mention his level-headedness, he was raised up as a god. Well, it just seems right. So, in response to this unbelievably romanticized and 'about as historically accurate as a novel written by those that were both the Victors, and the Vercingetorix' melodramas, I'd like to propose that I be raised to godhood. Yes, me little lads and lasses, I want to be revered as a god of the Peng Challenge Thread. I'll be damned to a northern Illinois suburb with no fecking tv reception to speak of before I let that bugger Berli steal a march on me. Stand back, all, as I am ready to reveal my godhead, and will need a great deal of room!

Yay, verily. See the Revelation of my Power. Shall we read from the Big Book O' Seanachai? For He shall cause the very Grogs of the field to bestir themselves from their fields, and abandon their cuds, and make merry jest and mock, and behave all prankish. By this you shall know that He is come amongst you. I was after watching that whole PBS 'Warriour Queen/Boudica' thing the other night, having been alerted to it by my faithful, gormless henchman Boo Radley, and, while cheering and hooting for General Suetonius, who had a right proper military attitude towards pretty much everything, I took very careful note of an interesting thought, which is to follow, so wait for it. Old Claudius was a bit of a caution, wasn't he? Not one to stand on ceremony, I thought. All for inter-marriage as the means of bringing people together and civilizing by everyone having to learn to sleep in one big bed, eh? Made me bloody thoughtful, so it did. And I couldn't help but notice that, despite his very nice and unassuming character, not to mention his level-headedness, he was raised up as a god. Well, it just seems right. So, in response to this unbelievably romanticized and 'about as historically accurate as a novel written by those that were both the Victors, and the Vercingetorix' melodramas, I'd like to propose that I be raised to godhood. Yes, me little lads and lasses, I want to be revered as a god of the Peng Challenge Thread. I'll be damned to a northern Illinois suburb with no fecking tv reception to speak of before I let that bugger Berli steal a march on me. Stand back, all, as I am ready to reveal my godhead, and will need a great deal of room!

Turn on 'weather', you self-mutilated pillock. There's heavy fog in a large village. We've already passed each other twice and I am now simply springbok-ing across the map in the hopes of catching you in an ally giving your ferret an airing in front of a damp and yellow stained house-side, so I can stitch a few MG dueling scars across your withered and hairy backsides while you're performing the final moments of 'the Swiss Bell Ringers Lament'.

Turn on 'weather', you self-mutilated pillock. There's heavy fog in a large village. We've already passed each other twice and I am now simply springbok-ing across the map in the hopes of catching you in an ally giving your ferret an airing in front of a damp and yellow stained house-side, so I can stitch a few MG dueling scars across your withered and hairy backsides while you're performing the final moments of 'the Swiss Bell Ringers Lament'.

Rune is simply Rune, you tit. And he looks like a young Charles Laughton. Mr. Berli! I will not tolerate mutiny aboard my sneak preview, Mr. Berli!

Rune is simply Rune, you tit. And he looks like a young Charles Laughton. Mr. Berli! I will not tolerate mutiny aboard my sneak preview, Mr. Berli!

S'truth. You can stand there and hear people say in awe: 'Lookit that. You can't even count all the pubs...'

S'truth. You can stand there and hear people say in awe: 'Lookit that. You can't even count all the pubs...'

That was cruel on so many levels. It would have been intolerable if there was actually anyone who could be counted as 'my betters'. Still, to make a point of my inability to keep a Mortal Enemy was a vicious, unkind cut. Roughly speaking, then, I'm like the father of all Australians? Another unkind cut. Indeed, I awake every morning and know the surge of relief that says: "Yes, indeed, I am in the North. I am happy. The children will grow up strong, and the women will be beautiful, and the men will be no worse than they are anywhere else, and the Australians are far, far away. Further away than even the bloody Illinoisans. I am in Minnesota. God is in his heaven, and all is right with the world." And then I think about you, A.E.B. And then, of course, I get up and relieve myself.

I mean, 'once was yur, ain't no mo' Y'know, sending prisoners back to the rear where I had troops that you ignored in your hasty tromp through the woods, made it so much easier to liberate them </font>

That's right, you sad, Kiwi pillock. Keep the 'lesser thread' here. You are all still playing CMBB. You are a challenge/smack talking thread. We are so much more. We are in the new Forum. We await your coming to join us. We shall be profoundly grateful for this brief respite of wit and intelligence. But We of the Peng Challenge know that you lot will eventually notice how wet your shoes are, and, however slowly and half-wittedly, make your way to a new, dry place to soil yourselves. [ October 14, 2003, 02:38 AM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

Have them take their skis off. They slouch down into a more relaxed posture after that.