Seanachai

Take some thorazine and wait for the text to go back to normal, you substance ingesting swine.

He's beginning to spell a lot like Gaylord...

Well, I guess we know who was a naugty boy this year. Or rather, for the last several millenia. Happy Solstice, Berlichtingen! [ December 24, 2002, 10:55 PM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

ROIGHT, THEN! MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL, YOU HORRIBLE LITTLE MEN! And a sing-song for the Ladies of the 'Pool. The Lady of Shalott On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And thro' the field the road run by To many-towered Camelot; And up and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below, The island of Shalott. Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes disk and shiver Thro' the wave that runs for ever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot. Four grey walls, and four grey towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott Only reapers, reaping early, In among the beared barley Hear a song that echoes cheerly From the river winding clearly, Down to tower'd Camelot; And by the moon the reaper weary, Piling sheaves in uplands airy, Listing, whispers "'tis the fairy The Lady of Shalott." There she weaves by night and day A magic web with colours gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott. And moving through a mirror clear That hangs before her all the year, Shadows of the world appear. There she sees the highway near Winding down to Camelot; And sometimes thro' the mirror blue The Knights come riding two and two. She hath no loyal Knight and true, The Lady of Shalott. But in her web she still delights To weave the mirror's magic sights, For often thro' the silent nights A funeral, with plumes and with lights And music, went to Camelot; Or when the Moon was overhead, Came two young lovers lately wed. "I am, half sick of shadow," she said, The Lady of Shalott. A bow-shot from her bower-eaves, He rode between the barley sheaves, The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves, And flamed upon the brazen greaves, Of bold Sir Lancelot. A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd To a lady in his shield, That sparkled on the yellow field, Beside remote Shalott. His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd; On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode; From underneath his helmet flow'd His coal-black curls as on he rode, As he rode down to Camelot. And from the bank and from the river He flashed into the crystal mirror, "Tirra lirra," by the river Sang Sir Lancelot. She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces thro' the room, She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror crack'd from side to side; "The curse is come upon me," cried The Lady of Shalott. In the stormy east-wind straining, The pale yellow woods were waning, The broad stream in his banks complaining. Heavily the low sky raining Over tower'd Camelot; -- photo Down she cam and found a boat Beneath a willow left afloat, And round the prow she wrote The Lady of Shalott. Down the river's dim expanse Like some bold seer in a trance, Seeing all his own mischance - With a glassy countenance She looked to Camelot. And at the closing of the day She loosed the chain, and shown she lay; The broad stream bore her far away, The Lady of Shalott. Heard a carol, mournful, holy, Chanted loudly, chanted slowly, Till her blood was frozen slowly, And her eyes were darkened wholly, Turn'd to tower'd Camelot. For ere she reach'd upon the tide The first house by the water-side, Singing in her song she died, The Lady of Shalott. Under tower and balcony, By garden-wall and gallery, A gleaming shape she floated by, Dead-pale between the houses high, Silent into Camelot. And out upon the wharfs they came, Knight and Burgher, Lord and Dame, And round the prow they read her name, The Lady of Shalott. Who is this? And what is here? And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer; They crossed themselves for fear, The Knights at Camelot; But Lancelot mused a little space He said, "she has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott But who hath seen her wave her hand? Or at the casement seen her stand? Or is she known in all the land, The Lady of Shalott? -Tennyson (music by Loreena McKennitt, for choice) [ December 24, 2002, 10:57 PM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

Merry Christmas and a Jolly Solstice to you, good Fool.

It's 'Death to Smoochy', you unbelievably inane pillock, and I'd rather swallow my own tongue than go with what you thought was funny. If it truly is funny, do all the rest of us the favour of degrading it so we can actually feel good about renting it and enjoying it. Just knowing you found it funny cheapens it for me more than words can say.

I believe the legal term is: 'A Feast for Lawyers'.

Are you eyeballin' my unit, Barrold? Are you eyeballin' me?! I can't be havin' with disrespect. If you can't honour the man, honour the Office of Master of the Universe! You want to walk right, Barrold. You want to walk in the light, you do. You want, I know you want, to do the right thing, make the right choice, and look me in the eye when you do so! So you bring your eyes up, laddy, from where yer staring now, and tell me that you want to see me ensconced as Master of the Universe. Sing out, now, lad! Tell everyone that you're on board with me as Master of the Universe.

Ah, Funkybax. Sorry, it should be clear by now that your thread has been hijacked in the most brutal and unpleasant way. As recompense, I promise that if I am made Master of the Universe, I will get some little idlers to create your 'Vietnam War Using the Combat Mission Engine' Wargame. To be realistic, lad, having an egomaniacal lunatic offer you the game you want will get you about as close to your goal as posting a 'poll' to get CM gamers to vote for it. Maybe closer. After all, when I'm Master of the Universe, I'll be able to offer the lads of BFC everything they've ever desired. And, as far as this 'Master of the Universe Wannabe' is concerned, they're the only ones likely to be able to meet your request. Now, if I can only find the right buttons to push to garner their approval...

As current ruling Master of the Universe, I will have all that show up at the polls shot. Thank you for your attendance</font>

You'll take your proper place as my Fool. I prefer the traditional usage. But rest assured. When I am finally pronounced Master of the Universe, we'll only be throwing away unwanted portions of the really good stuff! Top quality everything, lad. You want rags, bones, and empties, haul your arse over to the Republican National Convention. With my inauguration, even Fools will be treated to a taste of heaven. Lagavulin, Laphraoig, and Greek Food for Everyone!

You idiot! Don't screw around with digital tricks that could misfire and take you directly into the brain of Boo Radley. My understanding is that it's like being trapped on the 'It's a Small, Small World' Disney ride for eternity. Gods, how I hate New Yorkers. Always stepping forward with their fists clenched and their tongues out to: 'see if it's really urine'... [edited to change one, simple letter that turned the whole post from 'merely weird' into 'unnaturally disgusting'} [ December 23, 2002, 10:14 PM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

Oh yeah? Well I just gave away Akron to the Slovenes on my 'Make Me Master of the Universe' thread (previously, 'Next CM: Nam', thread, shamelessly hijacked in the most vulgar way, but seriously, what kind of poor lackwit thinks that 'what's next for the CM engine will be determined by idjits voting?)

SaTyR, when I am Master of the Universe, the Finns in Combat Mission will be... Well, hell, not even the Master of the Universe could get everything you Finns want put into Combat Mission. I mean, c'mon, it's supposed to be a hyper realistic depiction of WWII, for Godsake, and there's simply no bloody way that Finland could have managed what they did in the Real World™. So, when I am Master of the Universe™, I promise that any bits of Russia that the Finns might still want are theirs. Also, the entire Russian military will be forced to attend a series of lectures by all Finnish CM Board members speaking on 'How We Beat the ****e Out of Your Fathers, And We're Just a Scrappy Little Nation of Pathologically Committed Patriots'.

:eek: BTW IMHO .......I....think.......master .........of ............Peng (whatever) Love Alice</font>

I wasn't aware the NVA carried FN's...</font>

I will too if he sends me enough money.</font>

There will be cake for all! Really, really good cake. Several flavours. With little icing decorations shaped like AFVs. You can trust me, because I never lie, and I'm always right.

Oh, yes, it's in their charter. "All that is necessary to determine the next use of the Combat Mission Engine is that the will of the people be made manifest through free and openly conducted plebiscites. Once the will of the people is determined by vote, Charles will be shackled to a desk until that will is made reality." Didn't you read the full Manifesto?

By God, Soddball, you're welcome to try, sirrah! But I stand ready to crush you and your ineffectual minions under my jackboots! Grovel, worm! Once I've amassed enough votes, I will have you whacked on worldwide television, so that all may see my glory, and realize that no one could ever have mistaken us for the other!

Your kidding, right? You can't see the picture? It shows up fine for me. Are you running on a Coleco-vision, or somefink?</font>

Perhaps I could take this opportunity to start a poll, as well, asking how many of you would be willing to declare me Master of the Universe. Should enough of you vote in favour, it will become legally binding, and I will take up my position, privileges and duties in February.

Pointless, Fair Emma. Harley-Davison Ken is no more anatomically correct than is Panzer Leader

No, no, we're firmly in the middle of it.

Dearest Persephone, How my heart flutters, and my stomach knots, when I come in of a Monday morning to find new and precious treatments of my visage on the Peng Challenge Thread. The shot of myself and Dalem disporting ourselves on a bridge was fairly horrifying (aside to Berli: When I saw the GB my first thought also was 'Gnome Brigade') But my moment of true 'soul torment' came when I hit the picture of the Gnomish Hordes Attacking the Goldfish Pond. The soul shattering scream I let loose actually caused one of the people here in the office to drop their coffee. People rushed to me from all sides as I turned magenta with horror. They said later that I was trying to talk, but I sounded like a raccoon. After being slapped several times, and having glasses of water thrown into my face (this actually went on for a while after I was able to say that I was all right...), I was finally able to dismiss the browser from the screen, while shudders of loathing ran up and down my spine like Panzer Leader in fuzzy bunny slippers. Kudos, to you, Persephone. I think you actually managed to weaken my immune system, the blow was so horrible. Hope everyone has a lovely Holiday. I will try and get online quite a bit over the next few days, though, to make it as unpleasant as possible. I may even send out turns, now that I figured out why CMBB was slowing to a crawl and occassionally freezing up on me (installed new software that shouldn't have had any effect on it, but go figure).