Seanachai

Take your medication and lie down, you halfwit. In the morning it will all be gone. I like your wife, by the way. Does she plan to remarry if you meet an untimely end? I have some younger, more intelligent than you friends. Perhaps her life needn't be a complete waste...

I wandered in because I, as a member of the Cesspool, was deeply concerned about redwolf and whether he was having fun or not. Of course, there was also that element of checking to see if everything I was hearing in other places was true, and whether you are, in fact, a gibbering, opinionated, arrogant, piss-artist who'd rather gabble about how 'others simply don't realize my genius' than actually contribute anything new, interesting, or even 'on target' to a discussion. I have to say, as a simple, fore-lock pulling peasant who hesitates to intrude on the discussions of his betters, that you seem like a puffed-up, clueless f'ing git. And not an interesting puffed-up, clueless f'ing git. No. You seem far longer on posturing and public displays of some supposed 'Grog Knowledge' than on actual contributions. You also seem big on flinging off tangents of 'let me mention something that doesn't apply here' and 'ooh, look, you're failing to acknowledge my obvious failure to contribute'. I think you're a bloody humbug, and that your 'credentials' are nothing more than so much ****e. Spelled S-H-I-T-E. Personally, I think you're enjoying posturing, pissing about, and behaving like people should treat you with a certain respect, when you're nothing more than an annoying bead merchant who's aggressively waving your privates in everyone else's face, and hoping that no one notices and comments comprehensively on how 'small' your contribution is. But then, I'm just a Cesspooler. Although I like to think that I recognize an annoying, posturing humbug when I see one.

Thank you, Steve. For the first time in almost a year, the American political scene suddenly makes sense to me! I never realized when I began playing CM that this Forum would provide incites into day to day phenomena that trouble me deeply. You are a credit to your species. Actually, I know the guy with opinion four; don't worry about it. He's quite right, from his perspective, but the rock will some more red-orangy to him in about 6 hours. Make sure he doesn't pick up anything more penetrattive than those round-nosed kids scissors, though. Redwolf, we of the Peng Challenge are deeply concerned about you. You just never seem to be having any fun, lad! You didn't, by chance, ingest the black acid that we were all warned away from?

Hello, I'm Seanachai, and I'm a Cesspooler! Okay, as time goes by and you become more comfortable with the game, you'll find yourself obsessing less and less with watching the movies and flashing around the battlefield to note every detail of what happens. Unfortunately, this means you've become either a sensory overloaded idiot, or that you've developed a serious drinking and/or drug habit that has numbed you to the importance of detail in each turn. Now, as time goes by, you will develop a greater degree of comfort and understanding of 'what's just happened'. You will also learn to shrug off and ignore the things that are unimportant in the Big Scheme of Things. But never, ever task yourself with paying too much attention to the movies. Unless, of course, you become completely obsessed and start watching them to try and isolate which of your squads seems to be whistling 'I've Been a Wild Rover' during combat. In 1 out of every 12 games, even on the Eastern Front, there is a squad that's doing this, but attempting to isolate which one marks the path to madness. The movies are all important. I'd be willing to bet that the truly great players (not that there are any, as it's all a load of bollocks; today's hero of the Reich/Supreme Soviet is tomorrow's "The Game Engine Does Not Admit That Mine Is the Superiour Intellect" shell of a human being) watch the movies over and over with an intense appreciation of detail. What you'll learn, as you play more, is how to get the most out of watching those movies. But any newcomer who doesn't switch back and forth between views, and doesn't replay portions over and over to catch the details, is a person who has no interest in winning. A PERSON WHO HAS NO INTEREST IN DEFENDING MOTHER RUSSIA/INSURING THE VICTORY OF THE FATHERLAND! Er...in any case, you only learn what's going on by this sort of 'obsessive' attention to detail. Do it now, while you learn, and later you'll already have the background you need, and it won't seem so 'chaotic'. And one day, if you're truly good, you'll be able to pinpoint with certainty which squad is intermittently whistling that tune, very quietly to itself.

"Genius 'round the world stands hand in hand, and one shock of recognition runs the whole circle' round." Art Linkletter, strangely enough. The man must've drunk like a fish!

The buggers probably got chronic wasting disease. Which reminds me: Panzer Leader, enlighten me. Are you trying for the 'Lifetime Achievement Award' for Thread titles that should have been flung to the pit bulls? I mean, really. Fifty percent of all respondents indicated that your thread titles induced vomiting, while the other fifty percent, after being revived, indicated it caused catatonia. Twelve percent indicated that both occurred (results equal more than 100% because of rounding, statistical error, and because your sodding Thread titles are that bloody awful). Now, having properly chastised our very own Thread Fool for his endless efforts to carry out the alternately hissed and screamed demands of Peng to kill the Thread, once and for all, it's time to acknowledge a very good bit, that made even an aging Gnome chuckle with enjoyment. Kudos to our own YK2 for her frabjous Bedtime Story! It is efforts like that, from those who are not so lost to the catholic rote of abuse/boast/belittle/flaunt that make getting caught up on the Thread of threads a treat, rather than a chore. I don't ask everyone to think outside the box, but I ask that some of you at least start going to the bathroom outside it. Extremely high-powered negotiations, brain-storming, and very high-end muttering are going on in elevated circles via email regarding the Cesspool Tournament of Winos. Treeburst (did I mention that the average serial killer would envy his energy levels and attention to horrific detail?) has agreed to help organize things. Winecape has not yet denied an interest in rewarding the winner(s) with alcohol from a land down under, but not quite as far down under as Australia, so, in fact, a land rather around the base of the spine, rather than the lower round of the arse cheeks. I believe he'd be willing to donate some actually decent wine, but, in keeping with traditions of the Cesspool, it might be more appropriate if he sent the South African equivalent of 'screwtop piss noir'. Then again, there's a certain twisted rightness to the idea of Cesspoolers swilling fine South African wines out of ceramic mugs shaped like cowboy boots, souvenir Euro-Disney plastic cups, and currently unused urine sample jars. The sticking point, of course, is the Justicar, whose sense of tradition makes the Hassidim look like a bunch of New Age Dadaists. But I'm sure that suitable brib-... er, arguments, will be found to lead him into the light. Preferably fully clothed, and without that distressing tendency to sing show tunes. Finally, let me say that Peng and I have bought our forces in the New Game, and stand poised to flail the skin from each other with a great gnashing of teeth and many a profound curse. He is attacking, as the Germans, in an 800 base point game. I'm defending, in a village. 'Village' is a serious misnomer, on the Battle Generator's part. You couldn't get a blue collar New Jersey boy to spend a night in this place, and if this is what the Supreme Soviet has achieved for the People, then bring on the Romanoffs. Now, unlike every single game I have ever played against Berli, I cannot expect God to intervene on my behalf and smite Peng as he so justly deserves. So stay tuned to this 'Battle of the Olde Ones'. Oh, and it's 11º Fahrenheit here with light snow on the ground. You lads and lasses from the 'lower round of the arse cheeks' will never achieve manly, virile temperatures like this. Or, if you did, you'd die. But we Northern types simply curse, and shrug it off. Oh, and drink a lot. [ December 02, 2002, 10:49 PM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

Bugger Mods. Mods are on your computer, and affect nothing, other than the pretty pictures that you see. They are not transmitted, affect not the file size, and go unreguarded by your opponent. Omit this from you concerns over 'large file sizes'.

The amount of aimless, useless, pointless poncing about that goes on in this Thread lately, often for days at a time, simply defies human description. It would make me feel old, if I weren't already as old as dirt. Most of you lot, of course, are not that old. We'd have to describe you in terms of 'as f'ing dim as dirt'. Now, it is simply impossible to take 'points' away from a Lady of the Pool. It has nothing to do with gender, and everything to do with the fact that, unlike the rest of you puddles of piss, they give the place at least a patina of class. Now, I know what you're thinking: "Seanachai, it's 4 AM your time, what are you doing up?" Well, if the truth be told (as it is here when I speak, and almost never otherwise), I'm suffering from an unseasonable bout of insomnia. At this time of year, when it's a pleasant 20º here (that's 6.6º Celsius for the primitives amongst you), I normally sleep quite well. But lately, and probably because of the complete idiocy I read here on the Thread, I do not sleep well. And, rather than fight it, and lie there counting Mace doing Sheep, which always gives me incredibly disturbing dreams, I got out of my warm and comfortable (if sleepless) bed, and got online to say a few words to all of you. First off, that very nice lunatic Winecape was in here, and offered a prize for a Cesspool Tournament Winner. And what's been done about The Details, as it were? Bloody nothing, of course. This lot couldn't organize a bottle party. Or at least most of this lot could not. Fortunately, we have amongst us one Treeburst155, who, I know from my own experience, is almost pathologically organized and detail oriented. The words of Berli still echo in my head "What the hell? Is he high, or what?!" So, Treeburst. Please to coordinate with the Justicar, Winecape, myself, and, for reasons never sufficiently explored, Noba, regarding this concept of a Cess Tournament. Lad, I well remember your emails to me regarding the dedication you wished to bring to making the Peng Challenge Thread work, and I have never been more impressed, nor more frightened, in my entire puff. Now, I'm almost certain there are other points I wished to raise... Ah, yes! MrPeng and I are beginning our first game of CMBB. I will attempt to keep the pile of butcher's offal that currently inhabit the Thread up to date on our 'learning experience'. It may, perhaps, be a bit slow, as apparently Peng is once again cursed with respiratory infections that make him chant children's rhymes in hopes of staving off the plague...although all right thinking folk know that that whole plague/children's rhyme thing was an Urban Myth. Points to the Justicar for recognizing and isolating the source of infection! Points to the Fair Emma for posing something that brought a discussion more interesting than 'what breed of dog ended up eating Panzer Leader's yarbles mixed with horsemeat and rice by-products?'. And points to OGSF for consistently, and steadfastly, making the effort to maunder on about something while attempting to balance his 'wee spaniel' atop of his nose. To conclude my remarks for tonight, and, hopefully, fall asleep sometime before dawn, let me finish by saying: Cherish each other. You will never again be so likely to be in a community of souls so needful of your abuse, nor so worthy of receiving it. Set aside personal animosities, pettiness, and grievances, and stay focused on the big, broad issues of posturing and tormenting each other that make this all worthwhile! Remember: You never pass through the same stream of urine twice. [ December 01, 2002, 05:57 AM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

What is the sound of one wolf whimpering? Why not drag your useless, worthless...here, that's negative. Why not choose to visit the Peng Challenge Thread today?! We can't wait to hear all about your 'making noises with your mouth' ideas! We'd be especially interested in what one halfwitted Swede sounds like after all his teeth are dashed out with a ballpeen hammer.

My gods, stop displaying your ignorance. You are currently mangling a bit of Shakespeare that halfwits have been similarly mangling for years. What you are, in fact, asking, as you've phrased it, is: Oh England, Why are you now? That whole bloody quote, in the original, has constantly been mis-read as 'Romeo, where are you?' This is not what the young woman was saying. What she was asking is: Oh, Romeo, why are you Romeo? To wit: she was questioning the rotten luck that made the lad that is Romeo, the son of her family's most virulent enemies, also inhabit the body of the likely lad that she'd gotten all hot and bothered about. Even supposing there is an Englishman in here with enough brains to actually have read and understood Shakespeare (oh, a nation quite, quite fallen...I blame Thatcher), I want it noted and acknowledged right now that when it comes to bloody Colonials displaying ignorance and sordid disregard for the beauties of the English language, not to mention an almost magical inability to understand the classics, that it is the Australians who sound like a bunch of nose-picking boobs. 'Oh, England, wherefore art thou now'. Jesus wept. [ November 30, 2002, 04:29 AM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

Yes you do. They're in Austin.

You were doing jello-shots for Thanksgiving? What were the children drinking, Thunderbird? I never realized you heartland trailer trash types were so staunchly traditional about your holidays. Did the porn movie you watched while eating your pumpkin pie feature indians and pilgrims?

Stop using the term 'Sunshine'. It's giving me the red-ass. Oh, and 'Cupcake', it's not any better. Must be a sodding Ohio thing. Women from Northern Ohio insist on calling their 'Significant Other' Punkin. This is, of course, a corruption of 'Pumpkin', an Ohio term of endearment. One could wonder at why any woman would use 'Pumpkin' as a term of endearment....unless, of course, you'd hung out in the various Burger Kings, MacDonalds, and Roy Rogers that constitute Ohio's concept of 'fine dining'. One look at the 'Xtra Large MotoCross/Drag Racing/Monster Truck Rally T-shirt' spreading out like a ballerina's tutu over the belly of the average Ohio male, and missing the belt by 3 inches, combined with their round-faced, side-burned, dim-as-a-pit-bull look of complacent stupidity, would quickly lead anyone to the conclusion that 'Pumpkin' is not only apt, but the very nicest thing that one could say about this most primitive of 'Midwestern States'. [ November 28, 2002, 03:46 AM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

Ooh! That'd sting! That is, if you ever bothered to finish a game against me after that first one that you won by the narrowest possible margin, after doing every bloody thing wrong against a shattered force that still managed to hold you to what the AI, if I remember correctly, characterized, outside the parameteres of the engine, as 'that piddling little victory by Panzer Leader'. My goodness, Panzer Leader! What a very large hat you have! Now, shall we go look at your herds...

Exactly how does one go about losing to AussieJeff? Are there special 'Re-Education Camps' the government has to send you to? Of course, I only played the stuttering platypus in CMBO, but I can't remember ever not handing him his arse. Mind, I was subjected to all sorts of hooting and wooting for the first 15 turns, while he imagined himself invincible, and then a sort of receding 'dying quack' noise for the final 15 turns, interspersed with a few blusterings about 'reading the mission briefing' (clearly a lie; the man cannot read), and 'the Tac AI doesn't recognize my true genius, and won't grant me full control of my routed troops!' type thing. Now, AussieJeff, before you stumble on to center stage, spraying spittle and foam and demanding a setup, know that I've simply too many games now to show you your place. But that time shall come (again). Before I could reasonably play you, I must play your obvious better, Noba, and before I allow Noba a game, Stuka has first right of refusal. So go quiver in a corner, dear AussieJeff, until I've time for you. Fantasize about one day perhaps achieving a Draw against me.

Why? No one loves you more than we do. You might as well stay here. And that photo you sent around to the Minnesota Miscreants. Where did you get it? I...I...I feel that I've known her. In a past life, that is. And I'm almost sure I need to make amends for something. So, if you actually have any idea who she is...

Only the fact that I am drunk is keeping me from taking my own life, right now. Gaylord, you are a great burden to me. Almost as great a burden as your potential 'Liege'. It's strange, actually. I always envisioned the Peng Challenge Thread as a place where a Jolly Band of Idjits could poke you, and people like Panzer Leader, with sharp sticks. Really, really long sharp sticks. Pointed like needles. With at least a 16 foot shaft. And, strangely, my dreams have come true. But the both of you are still here, and I feel a certain sense of...responsibility for the fact that you're both as sodding stupid as a pair of gerbils. But you're Our gerbils. I think I'm going to throw up. With any luck at all, I'll aspirate the vomitus, and choke to death without ever, ever having to come to grips with how nice I've been to either Gaylord, or Panzer Leader

Undoubtedly you're right. But you're still an idjit. And, from this post, we have to figure a 'drunken idjit'. Be quiet. Go back in the Peng Challenge Thread. It pains me beyond my ability to express to have said that.

Gaylord, you're an idiot. But you grow upon one. Your statement above is like Lao Tzu. I don't know where he's getting his intelligence upgrades from, but I ask the people to consider the very strange evolution, such as it is, of one Gaylord Focker. By any stretch of the imagination, he's dim. He's annoying. He's daft. But, in some strange, never to be explored nor admitted way, isn't that what the Peng Challenge Thread is all about? I...have suffered a Sea Change. I ask Berli and Peng to consider whether the unbelievably dim and idiotic Gaylord Focker, should not, in fact, and against all that we know is right and true, be taken as Squire to the equally half-witted little horror that even the gods do a rinse and spit-take over: Panzer Leader. I swear, it's like watching two really stupid hooved animals wander through the woods in search of each other. I reverse my position, and I ask that the sodding idjit known as Panzer Leader be allowed One Squire: Gaylord Focker. Fer Chrissake, they were made for each other! There will be Only One

Indeed. And back in your inbox again. Ah, a gnome's work is never done, is it? Too bad. You can warm yourself in the fire of my artillery...</font>

Welcome, lemmors! Do not go into the Peng Challenge Thread unless you are at least this tall... (hand held far over the heads of most people, with same hand making a humourous gesture...) [ November 26, 2002, 12:24 AM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

SHUT UP, YOU LOT OF USELESS ****ES! ONE MORE GO AROUND ABOUT WHO'S EDITING WHOSE BITS, AND I'LL NOT ONLY PUKE, BUT AIM! There, that didn't hurt me a bit, did it? But if you'd like to continue life without a Gnomish boot lodged so far up your arse that you can't lick your lips unless I curl me toes, you'll get over this pissant back-and-forth of idiocy and try to find something interesting to say! Now, let me begin with a belated, but heart felt salute to our very own Berli (that bastard). HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BERLI! Sod 'em all, sod 'em all, sod 'em all! The daft, and the short, and the tall! If the bastards weren't guilty, they wouldn't be here So in the name of Peng, sod 'em all! Now, as me auld Mum used to say: If you can't say something that doesn't make you sound like a brain-damaged buggerer of other people's pets, then shut the hell up! Sorry. That wasn't me Mum, actually. She's probably the nicest, most generous person you'll ever meet, although the chances of you lot ever meeting her are bloody slim in this life, and non-existent in the next life, given where all of you but the Ladies of the 'Pool are going to end up. That was me Father that said that a load of bollocksed idjits should maintain silence until they find something interesting to say. And he meant ever syllable. Now, on another note, turns are once again out. It's awful cold up here, and it's not even that cold yet. It seems to get more unpleasant as you get older, and besides my own age that drives on toward senility and feebleness, there's the fact that I have several thousand years of experience to call on as an Olde One. But, even should I live to be as lack-witted as Gaylord, as demented as Mensch, or as impotent as Panzer Leader, I will never live long enough to gladly suffer the gibbering of Fools! So, for the sake of an aging Gnome, let's try to sound off like the dog didn't eat our intelligence, shall we?!

Actually, because of your intellect, and disturbing Socio-Political views, I've always regarded our relationship as rather like that between Henry II and Thomas á Beckett. "Oh, who will rid me of this troublesome Marlow!" Or, to quote from the movie starring O'Toole and Burton: "I always loved you, but you never loved me!"

While it is, in fact, true that we mock and deride 'ladder playing' and 'tournaments', we mock them because of that whole 'My Very Manhood is Tied Up With My Ability To Win or Lose a Game' which, frankly, is just too depressing. Let's face it. No war was ever started by such a simplistic and half-witted mind set, but what made it possible to actually find people to serve in them relied heavily on this bit of testosteroned idiocy. Now, it is important to note, though, that here in the Peng Challenge Thread we have never actually derided 'Tournaments' in the same way that we've derided 'Ladder Play'. For example, did we not send off our own brave boys, not to mention that idjit Shandorf, to play in a tournament on behalf of the Peng Challenge? Of course we did! Let's face it, Gents, while there is something to be said about 'Ladder Play' for those wishing to test themselves, and as a means of finding opponents, a great deal of it involves walking around with a ruler and pulling it out after each battle and holding it alongside to see if, in fact, 'It's' gotten bigger since the victory splash screen. Now, a properly conducted 'Tournament' is quite a different thing. For one thing, you know who you're up against. Secondly, and as a result, you can agree to be, or not be, or really not be Gentlemen. And, finally, the difference of the greatest significance here, is that we'd be playing for something of real significance! Not 'mine's big, yours is small'. Not 'How my Nazi idols would approve of me, and take me into the bunker for that secret ceremony involving manly embraces and the mystic transmission of bodily fluids that those losers who mock my Oh So Hip and Significant screen name based on a German rank/vehicle/officer/weapon/ideologically-psychotic-fanatics/soft-toy would never properly understand'. Not 'You May Now Call Me Master'. No, we're talking about playing for Wine, for the love of all the gods! I say, if the lunatic South African bugger (hats off to Winecape, all!) wants to set up a Cess Tournament, and actually reward one of the resident sodding idjits with wine, then I, for one, see no reason why we shouldn't profit by his almost magical willingness to give some decent bottles of wine to people that wouldn't be allowed onto an international flight with a set of nail-clippers. Obviously, this will involve some negotiations to make sure that the proper amount of cheating, lying, weaseling, and 'I'd kill Bambi, Thumper, and Flower with a Flame-Thrower in front of an entire audience of Five Year Olds For a Bottle of Wine' sociopathy takes place. Justicar, Make It So! [ November 24, 2002, 03:35 AM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

Teenagers, sheesh. Seanachai, do something about your youngun ... maybe teach him about the finer points of after-shave consumption.</font>