Seanachai

A rather funny bit, actually. Of course, in a land of wall to wall SUV huge pieces o' ****e, it's hard to get worked up about Volvos. Still, I laughed.

Oh, God, no! Not again! What the...my foot! Berli...the gout...the gout...AAIIIEEEEE! Must find Mike the Wino...wasn't he just here a minute ago? Better check the calendar...

Good Lord, that was some good wine. Although at one point I thought I heard Emma scolding me...must have been a dream. It's very strange, but here it is Saturday morning and there's hardly anyone parked on our block. And my neighbours all sure got up early and headed off to somewhere around 7:30. In any case, let me, on this rather cloudy Saturday morning (also strange; last night was clear as a bell, and they said we shouldn't see even a chance of rain until sometime midweek), take the opportunity to comment on the defeat of Mr. Radley. I cannot fault Boo for being overly cautious. No indeed. After all, when the only things you have to support your Attacking infantry are an Elefant, a Brumbar, a StuH42, and two StuG IVs, the last thing you want to do is advance too quickly. Of course, Boo needed all that heavy ordinance. After all, there were some trees on the map. God knows what kind of hell it could have been if my men had chosen, as they in fact did, to hide amid some trees. As a result of his choice of ordinance, Boo, of course, was little troubled by the trees. He just drove roads through them using shellfire. Often from great distances. When asked how he'd had the foresight to bring the AFV equivalents of Agent Orange with him, Boo muttered something gratuitously obscene about 'Nidan', and being 'gun-shy'. Boo began his slow advance towards my side of the map. My lot, of course, simply retired to their holes to play cards. When he had finally trundled some of his devastation wagons into range, my massive AT assets (an SU-76 and two of those rather feeble 76.2 mm AT guns the Russians used) began taking potshots at his tanks. They achieved very little. In most cases, of course, the shell hit his Monster Tank Rally entrants, but then simply stopped and fell to the ground with a dull noise. Boo was quick to avenge these affronts. In many cases he didn't simply shell the offending gun, MG, and crew into oblivion, he continued to pound the area on the off chance that any relatives might have shown up to weep over the remains. So, when he finally reached my main line of resistance (nice, eh? I've picked up some cool terms from reading Emrys and Dorosh and that lot), his infantry was finally positioned to advance, but all the supporting weaponry was about out of ammo. But Boo, I've discovered, has a motto: "Never say die, when you can instead scream die, die, aaaiiieee, momma, help me, help me, save me God, someone help me get my intestines back in my body." He charged his infantry repeatedly at my positions, where my troops, having put away their card games, nudged each other incredulously, saying "Aren't we the Russians? Why are those Germans using human wave attacks?!" Boo's troops died like dogs. And not good, fun, or interesting dogs, but more like yappy, high-strung little ankle-biters you'll see in the company of old women who offer them treats held between their own lips to get a kiss from 'sweet little punkin'. Just so, and in such disgrace, did Boo's men die. All of this, of course, forced by the fact that the clock had run out on Mr. Radley's Circus o' Big Gun Fun. He was running out of turns, shells, and I'm sure there was a lot of unseemly whispering among the ranks about 'big girl's blouse who won't advance until the enemy goes home from boredom'. And so, despite Boo drop kicking shells the size of storage sheds all over me, at the end of the game I still held all the VLs, and large portions of my infantry force hadn't even left their 'hide' condition. Even his artillery accomplished very little. Oh, the 105mm stuff he called in did inflict about 15 casualties, mostly in two squads. But the 82mm mortars managed f-all. In retrospect, it might have been kinder if he'd used most of the mortar FOs load to provide a smoke screen for his poor, suffering infantry to advance under cover of, but then, of course, his Tracked Batteries would have had an obstructed view of the trees they were leveling. And what fun is that? [ September 10, 2003, 02:27 PM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

Ha ha ha, ho ho ho, little brown jug... What a night of it I've been having! Not looking forward to the working week, I can tell you! Still, that's the whole weekend away! Another bottle? Well, why not! Sure to be another one around here somewhere...

Haha! waving bottle Good stuff! What a night...ought to try and post some more on the Thread, I suppose...seems like hours since I was last on... Oh, well, where's that wine service? Ha, there it is! Must make hay while the sun shines...although it's dark now, of course... But wasn't there sunshine for a while? That's puzzling. Oh, well, no worries until Monday. gurgling noises Here's to Mike the Winerider...no, er...Winetalker!...no, wait, that's Navajos...Here's to Mike! Outghta sweep up some of that glass in the bathroom, someone's going to cut themselves...

Good God. I haven't actually gotten caught up on this thread, but your defense against accusations of sweeping generalization, vagueness and inaccuracy are that you don't have any access to sources, and that you can't remember anything significant about what you've recently read other than your own assumptions about what they had to say about what you felt was true? And you're getting shirty with other people about their reaction to your unsupported statements regarding things they've called into question because you don't feel they've been properly deferential? Well, let me join you in chastising these bloody idjits. Andreas, Bastables! You stupid buggers! Can you actually supply even one scrap of support, one single citation, one bit of evidence that might possibly indicate that Close Air Support wasn't capable of deciding the entire ground war? I thought not! It's about time that you bloody grogs realize that, in the face of unsupported, opinionated, and yet thoroughly definitive Statements of Reality, that all your arguments are so much marsh gas and crop circles. Gods, how I hate all you knowledgeable people, and your whinging attempts to seek any sort of certainty. After all, I know what I know. Why don't you know it as well?

Well here comes Mike, and he's found another bottle He tips it up like a trumpet, he takes a drink and passes it on And every man 'round the fire, takes a chorus on the bottle It ain't much, it ain't good, but it'll get us through till dawn Don't the freight yard sound like a drunk in a metal shop? I can't believe it gets this cold in Barstow And I can't believe I pissed my twenties away Well if you take me back this time Baby I promise you...I'll stay. Then Seanachai takes another drink, and he starts to sing off key There's not a man big enough around the fire to shut him up And in the cold morn he's singing 'hey Okie, tell Arkie, Texas found a job in Californy And everyone around the fire cracks up Don't the freight yard sound like a drunk in a metal shop? I can't believe it gets this cold in Barstow And I can't believe I pissed my twenties away Well if you take me back this time Baby I promise you...I'll stay. Then Mike starts laughing hard, but he doesn't make a sound He grabs the bottle back from me, and kills the last of the wine And in the fire's glow I can see his eyes, and they shine like brake lights And I am grateful I cannot see mine. Don't the freight yard sound like a drunk in a metal shop? I can't believe it gets this cold in Barstow And I can't believe I pissed my twenties away Well if you take me back this time Baby I promise you...I'll stay. Barstow -Bill Morrissey (with apologies for the changes) Joe, if you take me back this time, I promise you I'll stay. This Mike the Wino fellow. Salt of the earth, don't you know. Damn fine fellow. Always said...damn fine fellow. Twelve bottles. Twelve. All done up in styro...foam. I was the envy of every bugger at the FedEx pickup office. Handsome blonde-haired lass helped me with my wine. Lovely. So, this Mike the Wino...did I say that he was a gentleman? Not enough gentlemen anymore. Oh, yes, the Peng Challenge Thread, certainly. But damn few else. Bloody handsome lass, that one. Blonde. Normally I prefer brunettes. Give me a brunette every time, I always say. Don't the General Forum sound just like a drunk in a metal shop? I can't believe it gets this cold in Minneapolis... I was talking, then, eh? There were gentlemen. And ladies. Always should be gentlemen to go with the ladies... In any case, Joe was about to sense..seize...censure me. Yes! Censure me. Me! Olde One of the Peng Challenge Thread. Been here since the beginning. Began it. Been here since before the beginning. Damn fine lass. Wish I could hear that Scottish accent...that'd be just lovely...Glasgow. In any case, Joe and Berli, they're, what's it...they're against me! Working against me, in fact. It's a fact. Working against me. Well, I'm not having it! I can't be having with that! Working against me. Bloody cheek. Oh, yes. Declare me 'Ungrateful Personal Australian'. Fine. Them and Rune. That bugger. I know a thing or two about a thing or two. See if I don't. What was I saying? Mike the Wino. Yes! A damn fine lad. Vile bad habits, of course. Slides off every chance he gets to that Other Thread. Awful place. Master Goodale. Subverts the whole concept of Evolution, that one does. Soddball. Awful place. But that's not what I came to talk to you about...what was it again... The room was spinning harder, as the ceiling flew away... Hmm, hmm, hmm Ah, that's it! Mike the Wino. I'd like to make him welcome here. Propose him for Serf, Squire, all that biznai with the Justicar. Go through the forms, observe the...the...verities...not that, ummm, something like verities. Verification? Versification? I think he could be alright, you know. Seems like a stable influence in that Other Thread. Not like Soddball. That bastard. We're not at all alike. Oh, forgot. I'm 'censured' now. Can't welcome anyone in, Ho-Ho, Seanachai must go! Well, I'm not. Going, that is. I'm staying. One of sixteen vestal virgins, who were leaving for the Coast... Yes. Joe Shaw! I'm talking to you, you bugger! Did you think I'd go gently into that good night? Bloody hell no! Daft bugger. I hereby Challenge you to a game of CMBB, you...have any of you lot ever seen Joe? Well I have.. has...I've seen the Sod! Do you know what he actually looks like? He looks like some daft Monk from some monastery in a Rabalais book! Damn me if he doesn't! Tall, with big 'Keene Kid' eyes, and a fluffy white curl of hair around his tonsured bald pate! Damn him, I say, and his choice of scenario, QB parameters, or Seconds. Code Duello. Or something like that in Aussie. Bastards. Bloody Australians. Won't export their real beers. Swine. I hates 'em. Did I mention that Mike the Wino is a gent? Oh my God! My leg's on fire! [ September 06, 2003, 03:02 AM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

I'm not positive, but I think MrSpkr is now using all proceeds to fund a neo-Con legal initiative to have me jailed for failure to remain 'Saveable'. Of course, I haven't gotten mail today, either. Just a minute...

Bullocks? Leeo, I am worried about you.

Ah, sweet Emma. Just stand there still for a moment while I get the hose...saw quite a few posts of yours over in the Loathsome Thread...all clean in just a few minutes with a few quick blasts...there! All done. Now, one of you lesser creatures run and get her a towel. Boggs will do. And the rest of you avert your eyes until she's dry. Degenerates. [ September 05, 2003, 09:41 PM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

Two quick points before I shuffle off to a more congenial place. Mike the Wino, you are indeed a gentleman. In fact, you are probably a gentleman's gentleman. The boxes are sitting hastily slashed open in my kitchen, styrofoam littering the area, and already some of the shipment is rolling around empty underfoot. I would marry you, except you're a man, probably have several loathsome diseases, and after all this wine that 'fell off the back of the truck' is traced to you, you'll soon be getting married to some guy in prison in any case. I will, and you may count on this, speak well of you in the Peng Challenge Thread. This is no small thing. I will also speak poorly of you in the Peng Challenge Thread, which is even more important. And now this second thing goes out to Axe2121 (bolded in congratulations for his upcoming marriage): Got your letter today, Axe2121. You big soppy bunny! I shall, of course, immediately 'get bent', per your instructions. Wow! I now have almost as much Canadian money as many Canadians. It's so much prettier than our money. Just as you, I'm sure, exceed the very stars in the sky for beauty. Mrs. Axe will be a very lucky girl, to be sure. Treat her right, lad. Send her over to read the Peng Challenge Thread, and release her from the purgatory of Master Goodale's inarticulate growling and dyslexia, not to mention the rest of the glottal gibbering that goes on here amongst you lot. I can never think of this thread without seeing in my head that opening scene from 2001. I imagine Soddball as the furry bugger smashing everything to splinters with that bone. The Peng Challenge Thread is the Black Monolith before which all the Cheery Waffles caper.

Lord, he's been watching Travolta movies again. Any day now he'll blast forth a soliloquy along the lines of "The Poetry of Bad Acting: Battlefield Earth as a Metaphor for Our Age" or somefink. Steve </font>

Real nice. How much are you going to suck up to those guys now that they're plying you with free booze? </font>

What an awful night. Between the head cold, cold medication, and that big glass of whiskey I ended up dreaming all night that I repeatedly posted in the Master Goodale thread... OH MY GOD, WHERE AM I?!! THIS ISN'T THE PENG CHALLENGE THREAD! ARRRGGGHHARRRGGGRRRGGARRGGHHH! RUN AWAY, RUN AWAY!

Note To Self – Seanachai needs another day on the lake.... </font>

How much f'ing wine did you send?! I come home tonight to find a 'Delivery Tag' from Fed-Ex in which the driver has noted '2 packages', 'alcohol', 'wine', and checked 'security reasons, high value', and written in the 'Leave your signature for this shipment here': NO, SORRY. The driver has also scrawled, on a line that doesn't seem to be appropriate to anything at all: Sean a chai ? I had to call the sons of...certain appropriate female dogs, and ask when I could pick up my apparently innumerable packages of alcohol. The bloody woman who answered the call spoke like some sort of character from a C.S. Lewis novel, exclaiming 'Oh, No!' when I told her the driver wouldn't leave my apparently vast and sudden windfall of alcohol on the bloody porch, and when I asked her how long they'd retain it at the delivery depot for me to sober up and truck on in to get, she breathlessly exclaimed "Oh, they'll keep it there for five days!" Christ on a crutch judging Shiva, but at least the Fed-Ex driver had the good grace to write 'sorry' after his failure to deliver the goods. So tomorrow I shall mount up, and, 'Door Tag' delivery receipt in hand, I shall go and get the apparently vast amount of wine that Mike the Wino has sent to me. Er...'Mr. Wino' (may I call you 'unrepentant vileness that must be expunged before mankind can achieve a higher level of being'?). Exactly how much wine did you send me?!! I mean, in terms of full-sized, 750 ml bottles of wine?! And do you somehow get this stuff for free, or are you knocking off liquor stores at night to (quite appropriately) propitiate Seanachai? Oh, and who put the GRR, in the GRR ARG ARG ARG GRR GRR ARG GRR? [ September 05, 2003, 12:54 AM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

Relax, Josephus. I'm not recruiting, I'm trying to buy us a lawyer. Once you've bought 'em, you can collect the whole set. A literary moment of reassurance: "Hey, they're sweatin," said Rob Anybody. "You mean we can have lawyers on oour side as well?" "Yes, of course, said the toad. "You can have defense lawyers." "Defense?" said Rob Anybody. "Are you tellin' me we could get awa' wi' it 'cause of a tishoo o' lies?" "Certainly," said the toad. "And with all the treasure you've stolen, you can pay enough to be very innocent indeed." The Wee Free Men -Terry Pratchett

Laphraoig 16 year? Mind, you're probably not worth it, but it will annoy the Justicar. And all our lawyers are in jail. What good is having Satan posting without any lawyers? His evil looks so toothless without the bite of true corruption. And it's pronounced Shawn-a-kee, you expectorated burst of throat gargle.

A worthless git, if you please. </font>

I shall, then, Boys in hand, not go gently into that good night, mate! Bugger, playing at being a wandering Aussie in the desert in a Rune scenario. This is going to be so much worse than a simple hangover.

And don't you know it, lad. Between Combat Haiku, Kipling, and Lawrence Ferlinghetti, there wouldn't be a single bugger who'd any clue what was about to go down.

That was poignant. But you're still a git.

It's like watching a lower life form evolve into something that is simply incapable of evolving. Talk about the sorrow and the pity...

As to Desdee, Amos, Gunslingr, and their ilk: If I was driving a rental car with full insurance coverage, I wouldn't swerve to miss them in a parking lot in a sufficiently convincing way. Free agent, you say? We in the Peng Challenge Thread are all about Freedom. We are, however, opposed to the distressing anarchy displayed in the Goodale threads. Come on. How much for the lawyer? Everything has its price. Just look at the beggaring of America.

BY THE GODS, I WILL HAVE AN END TO THIS DISGUSTING DISPLAY OF FRATERNIZATION! I happened to be in the herpetic Goodale thread making sure that, should conflict arise, the Peng Challenge Thread would triumph, and those boorish poseurs would sink to the bottom of the Cess to simply provide treacherous footing for generations yet unblooded, and WHAT DO I FIND?! YK2 posting! Persephone posting! And any number of Peng Challenge Thread Knights posting?! We have always turned a blind eye to the occasional wanderings of Squires into dens such as this, and, of course, no one gives a rat's arse where the SSNs might want to disport themselves, but when I have to wander into such a place of vileness and drag back to their duty Knights of the Cesspool, then it is time to unleash...the Justicar! Oh, yes, you're all going to be unhappy now! Shaw, explain to them the error of their ways. And as for the Ladies...I am deeply traumatized. Not since that time my fiancee slept with the Human Rights attorney in Guatemala have I been more discouraged by the course of the world. I shall bugger off, now, and dwell for a while in the house known as 'Sorrow'. [ September 04, 2003, 10:35 PM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]