Seanachai

Moose Drool Brown Ale, if you must know. Now, I write and eat with my left hand; throw, shoot, and use a bow with my right. I mouse with either hand. Mousing being a new, technological skill, there cannot be any cultural or historical orientation to it. I find it quite interesting that I share my left-handedness with Persephone & Yeknod. The knowledge that Panzer Leader, Nidan1, and Aussiejeff also write left handed has had me sitting at my desk with a handaxe for 45 minutes, speculatively eyeing the offending member. But I finally realized that: Aussiejeff is an Australian, and lives in the Southern Hemisphere. Just as water runs counter-clockwise down the drain after Aussies have had a slash in it, AJ's left-handedness can be explained away as an Australian anomaly. Nidan1 is utterly indistinguishable from anyone else in this Thread who's name begins with N, so he is probably simply a rather stupid echo. Echoes do not have hands. Panzer Leader thinks he is my son. He's spent the last several years learning to write left-handed out of his strange, twisted sense of familial heritage. I haven't the heart to tell him that he's an incredible pillock. Oh, no, wait, I can tell him that without any problems at all. It was telling him that he is, in fact, illegitimate that I was trying to keep from him...bugger, cats out of the bag now, then, eh? Just as well. Currently neither parent is willing to take responsibility for having anything to do with him. He's either a Changeling, or generated like bread mold...

Shouldn't you be in an abbey or something?</font>

He might have, if he was an Advertising Firm whoring a new soft drink. You lot need to get a grip...

Your copy?!!! You piddler, I own your soul!!

Bah! I wave my hand at you! Two weeks? TWO WEEKS??!! You're a fragile blossom, and no mistake. You shouldn't be taxed so heavily by the vagaries of Real World game play. Put your underpants on your head, and dance through the moonlight in a dew circle. That ought to give you the respite you need, you Squarehead whinger! Who are you kidding? It's unlikely you ever had a social life. Now We are your social life. Such as it is, of course...

But Soviet 81mm mortars do not fit in jeeps? This little tid bit you failed to mention Seanachai . How may I sleep and dream tonight when this incedible factoid is left out of your oh so important post?</font>

Sorry, Joe, but this won't Go... The Peng Challenge Thread transcends all mortal boundaries. Except, of course, that imposed by UBB. Now, BFC could have given us our own Forum, but we have, all along, resisted that. Why? Not for lack of understanding our own significance. No, rather, we know exactly how important we are. We are the counter-point to all the quivering little Game Forum Hitler Jugend who declare: But I have something of vast importance to relate!! Not enough attention is being paid to what I am sayink! If only the Peng Challenge Thread did not trouble my nights! My sleep!!! MY DREAMS!!! BFC, MAKE THEM STOP, MAKE THEM STOP, MAKE THEM STOP!!! I CAN HEAR THEM, GNAWING IN THE WALLS! YESTERDAY, I POSTED ABOUT MY SUPERLATIVE KNOWLEDGE REGARDING EVERYTHING MILITARY, AND SOME OF THEM WERE THERE! I HEARD A SNIGGER!! ONE OF THEM FAILED TO BOW TO ME!! I CAN HEAR THEIR LAUGHTER!! WHY DOES THE BOARD ALLOW THEM THIS USAGE????!!!!! Ahem. Of course, we know our place. After a while, so do they. Even the Grogs acknowledge our position in the Food Chain. Which is, at it should be, at the top. Pissing down on them from a considerable height. Really, what else can keep the kind of knowledgeable, detail driven egos that populate this place in line? Now, to return to my original point: Old Foul Joe, our wisdom should be available to both forums. But such is not possible. We have moved on, as we must, as, indeed, the Thread itself constantly moves out into the Wasteland. We are all about Creation. But we must not turn our face away from the now foundering CMBO Forum. If I had my way, the Peng Challenge Thread would appear simultaneously in both, identical in every detail. But we are limited by our technology. Let us not limit ourselves because of the technology. We know our roots. We know where we are now. One day, we will all be One.

It occurs to me that the very best cure for all this creeping malaise, despondency, and lethargy is having a quick re-read of one of Terry Pratchett's 'Commander Vimes and the Night Watch' novels from his Discworld series. Turns out tomorrow night, doubtless imbued with bounce and insouciance.

I am now even more despondent, as I contemplate the horror that Hiram will experience when he realizes he is 'selfphobic'.

Hiram, did you read what I wrote about Mr. Night and his tendency to 'project' onto others? I have a sad, certain suspicion why it is you are so fixated with 'bums'...

Now, I know that some of you have been waiting for some time for turns from me. A few have been waiting an unusually long time, far longer, in fact, than usual. If this is possible. We're getting into Quantum and Chaos theory, here. Now, I would have had turns to all of you long before this, but I've simply fallen into complete despondency over Dalem's current inability to enjoy the game. I sit down to crank out some turns, and find myself thinking: What's the use, really? Will Dalem be any happier? In fact, I usually then slump even farther down, and find myself thinking how inevitable everything always is, and how little anything will mean, and how the whole plan just seems to be ineffable. Sometimes I end up just going to bed. Other times even that seems utterly pointless, and I just lie down on the floor right where I am and go to sleep. At least I think it's sleep. I'm sure it's the floor, because it's still there when I wake up. Needs a serious sweep, too. But then, as I brush off my cheek, I think: What 's the point of sweeping? So, I'm unable to get turns out, to take any delight in life, or even to motivate myself to clean up my apartment. I'm living in filth, depressed, and everyone I have games against hates me because I'm not responding to pleas for turns. I blame Dalem, of course, for all of this. Curse you, Dalem, curse you. You could at least come over and vacuum...

YK2, you know I think the world of you, but please, please, please never do that again. Internet Explorer crashed three times while trying to visit the previous page, requiring a reboot each time before it would pretend to remember how to function. While the dancing penguins and disturbing soundtrack where great fun, it made it extremely difficult to get to the wisdom of Hogswatch Night...or something like that...I had to read quickly for fear that IE was going to go west again at any moment. I may not have his name exactly right. Now, people, let us simply allow Mr. Night to skulk off into himself. There is a certain type of self-important and bitter poster that, every few months or so, feels the need to come in and talk big, mainly for his own enjoyment, and to prove that he can. From the wonderful anonymity of his dial-up and screen name, he can posture for a while here in the thread before going off to look in the mirror and tell himself what a tough hombre he is, while practicing sneering and his 'steely' gaze. Generally, responding to people like Mr. Night simply sends them into a frenzy of posting, then rushing to the mirror, then back to post some more, until finally they are so over-excited that they have to go indulge themselves in a bit of what so clearly is uppermost in Mr. Night's mind. Often to the point of chafing. Attention, after all is what Mr. Night so clearly craves. Which is, of course, why it was the first thing he accused everyone else of being desirous of. It's common for accusations to follow the pattern of projecting one's own problems and fixations on to others. I imagine that next he'll be in here accusing us of being effeminate, disruptive, and sexually dysfunctional. Pay it no mind. When ignored, he'll simply return to the mirror, with a few choice words about 'how he showed all that Peng bunch'. If we're really lucky, perhaps he'll fall into an argument with himself about what he/they should have said next, and do himself an injury punching out the glass... [ October 24, 2002, 12:13 AM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

This is Goliath, shouting out for Davey, so they can bring a message of Lutheran commonsense to all the watching children. This is Elvish. It means: 'A star shines on the hour when I was gut-shot' No, it means 'all gone', and refers to the vodka ration. Shouting this drove the Russians into an ugly frenzy. Hedges, a few more minutes with Bablefish could have easily spared you all this. [ October 22, 2002, 10:22 PM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

That was completely incomprehensible. Is English a second language to you?

Shudder. Shudder. Shudder

There's the pot calling the kettle black... No offense to the Old Firm, of course. How many times have you sent me a setup, unasked, and finally told me the rest of the conditions as we moved into the last third of the game?

SHAMEFUL! SIMPLY SHAMEFUL! So all these claims of ÜberFinn artillery practices are based on some sort of primitive, northern form of roulette?! The world gasps in horror. I might say, I've read both these recent Finn arty threads with a great deal of interest. Very informative, very interesting. I felt that most all participants stayed focused, and, although sometimes the 'warriour passions' were elevated, everyone tried to stay focused on the issues, and were genuinely respectful to each other, even backing-off a position or attitude where called for, or where it was better to smooth the fur. Most of the really pointless rhetoric came from those who had nothing more to contribute than throwing pop bottles from the stands in order to interrupt the game. They should have buggered off. Oh, and tero, you lose points for constantly shifting ground and attempting to 'redefine' the argument when put into a false position. But you know I love you, ya bluff, hearty, ÜberFinn, you! Carry on. Quite a good on-going thread.

Someone bought a Sturmtiger and a Jagdtiger in the same game against another human being?! This looks to me to be poetic justice. Not to mention the gods stepping in and saying 'Wot the Bloody Hell?!' Vastly amusing. I can't tell if you're complaining about the fact that a 25mm anything got the luckiest hits in human history, or that your choice of Way Big Tanks didn't work out for you. I think we'll have to see if 25mm AA guns consistently get 'gun-hits' on extremely over-powered German armour, or if your perception of losing a couple of 'strap-on' units to a one time phenomenon constitute a 'bug', or an actually exploitable 'failure of the game engine'. Your experience , unsupported by the posts of other players, strikes me as the CM equivalent of 'Well, there was this one time I sneezed, and my penis fell off." Nothing against you, lad. It's simply that without more info, and a clearly defined and explained, not to metion 'infinitely repeatable' set of circumstances, everything else is so much 'my cat's been run over before, but it didn't die'

How very droll. You've made your mark there, and no mistake! Now show us a real trick, and crawl back up your own arsehole... We're waiting...waiting...

We, the Foolish, quite given over to a Love of Life, an Excess of Stupidity, and a Sheer Bloody Minded Belief That It Will All Come Off, Come the Night, Hereby resolve: THAT WE NEED A SODDING ANTHEM! Go to town. Spend hours penning your own masterpiece, or brutalize someone else's original work, adapting it to the Peng Challenge Thread.

Brooding. Silent. Remembering. The Scottish Chick is right! Ermmm.... that is, what this Thread needs is a really good Anthem! Nations have Anthems. Disappointingly Stupid teenage groups have 'Anthems'. Media designated 'conglomerations of idjits' have Anthems. The Peng Challenge Thread should have its own Anthem. How could we have gone this long without our own 'Anthem'? For a furtherance of the exciting new direction that Seanachai's thoughts have taken, see the next post!

Was it you that brought the crescent rolls? Or the Salsa dip?

And that 'reason' is that the strong, the gracious, and the forgiving can show us all how to go gently into that longest of nights. But there's no hand, behind the backdrop of life's curtains, moving her to 'be a good example', and move us with her strength. No, that's all done by herself, through her grace, and through her love of life and the people she's being strong for. I honour her for every moment she proceeds, and finds a good word to say to reassure the rest of you, and us, and to give the lie to her own fears, pain, and exhaustion. I honour her for looking for there to be something beyond the suffering, something to make sense of it all, some one reason to proceed in the face of a Universe that will snuff each and every one of us out of existence in an eyeblink. I honour her for her life. Do you, also. Don't consider where she tells you she's 'taking her strength from'. It comes from herself. And you. And what she's given to life. And, if there is anything out there that takes note of such things, then even they will have to give a nod.

I don't know that I will ever stop laughing about this. I can die, now. Not that I will die, of course! Certainly not hanging from the chandelier! And under no circumstances will there be long, merry posts about it! Although I've been feeling a bit depressed, lately. A lot of it has to do with the fact that Mace apparently doesn't listen to enough Bob Dylan. Also, Mickey Mouse. That bastard's still laying for me. Did I mention that every Sunday morning, at 8 AM, Satan calls me and says 'Hey'. And I say 'What?'. And He says 'Did I wake you?' And I say 'Yes'. And He laughs, and says 'Good'. Then we usually talk about life, and how much less worthwhile it seems given that you lot are allowed to participate in it almost for free.

Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Now it's all going to be confused again! That's it, Soddball, you bastard. I'm making a big marmite sandwich, and we're going to eat every bit of it. Except that I'm actually Argie, so I won't have to choke down bread covered with pressure cooked and spent brewer's yeast! AHAHAHAHAHA! If only you'd try and be a bit more like us, Soddball, there wouldn't be all this bickering.