Seanachai

Here, everyone, the Lorak's back! He speaks for the trees! (and every bloody time you come back, we're going to trot that damn thing out and make a point of it, as well). Good to see you back. You should be contacting Persephone. We've got bucketloads of new photos of otherwise useless swine that need to be immortalized.

Why are you still up? Or are you working some hideous shift again. I guess it's true that 'Evil never rests'. Still I hope it at least naps, occasionaly.

Hmm, logistical error. I'm breaking my own call for Coventry, but I actually did make a mistake in my original post to him on the Outer Boards that should be explained. By asking others not to respond to your idiotic thread, I simply meant 'other members of the Peng Challenge Thread'. On this point I was not clear. I saw no reason for a run on that thread by other members of the Cesspool before the Moderators shut it down. And normally, a 'counter-Peng thread' in the past has merely resulted in even more annoying behaviour than the original. I'm glad to see, Sgt. Beavis, that you brought your irritation in here, rather than expanding a useless flame thread. Certainly my remarks regarding you were inflammatory, but given the nature of your attempts at a 'topic', I thought you seemed pretty much set on being annoying, starting a fight, and didn't much care how you were perceived. I would certainly regret and apologize for my thoughtless comment if anything you'd posted since contradicted that impression. Any comments, lad, that you might have regarding myself, you are quite welcome to. But I'd prefer if you left family members such as my mother out of this, as you know absolutely nothing about her, and I can see no way in which she might have injured you. Also, you might want to refrain from your rather aggressive use of expletives. Even in the Peng Challenge Thread, we show a certain restraint, out of our limited sense of common courtesy.

Yes. How truly special. I'm going out on a limb here, and sending this one to Coventry on his initial post. As I already have on the Outer Boards. I ask all our members to ignore this child until BTS takes him in hand and shows him out. Please do not botther telling him what an utterly sodding, useless, painfully disappointing waste of genetic material he is, as that will only convince him that he's been noticed. Given his member number, he's clearly decided 'sod this Board', and no longer cares to belong to this community. I pity children that grow up with the idea that 'liberty' is 'license'. As Frank Zappa satirically sang: "Freedom is where you don't have to do anything or pay for anything..."

Stupid arsehole's apparently decided to be banned. To all our folk: This is the last post here, until the padlock. Don't grace this with any further posting. Honour this ban, please. This is otherwise beneath our notice. [ April 28, 2002, 02:23 AM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

Ah, yes. Famous people. Reminds me a bit about my own story, up in Northern Minnesota, some years back... I remember a time when I was in a bar up north with Virginia Woolf, Dorothy Parker, and Colette, and three drunker women than they were that night cannot even be imagined. Woolf kept offering to armwrestle everyone in the bar, and was so obnoxious she kept calling all the Indian guys in the bar ‘chief’ and ‘tonto’. Parker kept falling off her barstool and lay laughing like crazy on the floor until we helped her up again, and Colette got up on the pool table (in heels, for the love of God), and started doing a striptease until we grabbed her and pulled her down. Charles Bukowski was with us, and he was so digusted he went home early. All these duck hunters and local guys kept coming up to Dorothy Parker and saying things like “Wow, Dorothy Parker! If I could say I’d traded comments and witty remarks with a woman like yourself, that’d be one of the most treasured memories of my life!” and Parker was saying things like “Yeah? Well why don’t you stick your finger up your arse and then suck on it like a popsicle. Is that witty enough for you, pissant?”. Anyway, it just got worse and worse. Virginia Woolf started swaggering around the bar knocking over guys’ beers and shouting “Who’s afraid of Virginia Woolf?” Colette locked herself in a stall in the Men’s room with this lumberjack, and Parker threw-up onto the pool table, the foosball table, and one of those bowling-lane games where you skim the disk down to knock up the pins, and then started whipping the disk down the lane to show everyone ‘how much slicker it worked now’. It was a horrible, horrible experience, and by the end of the night half the guys in the bar where in tears. Around 2 am I remember saying to Dorothy Parker “Why? You are three of the most erudite, witty, and well-spoken women of this century. Why are you behaving like this?” and she looked up at me from where she was all but hanging from the bar, vomit all down the front of her dress and a Grainbelt still locked in her fist, her eyes red-rimmed and looking like two pissholes in a snowbank, and said the words that have stayed with me to this very day: “Because we’re scum”.

Schnapps is something that only sodding Squareheads would drink. You Aussie's keep annoying me, and I'll do a 'special' on you on the next installment of "When Marlow Came To Schloss Peng". Peach schnapps. The gorge rises just reading it.

And the point of posting that IN this thread is?</font>

Fools rush in, as they say, and where angels have already trod, I feel quite safe in posting. ROIGHT! HAVE YOU LOT NOTICED THAT PERSEPHONE'S STARTED THE NEW PENG CHALLENGE THREAD?! BY THE NUMBERS, THEN, COUNT OFF!

Will the CMBB Manual be translated into Australian? Gods know there's an unnatural number of those buggers on the Forum.

Masterful. Disgusting, and still overly fixated on the colon (as would be anyone who would actually eat haggis, as opposed to just going on about it), but masterful. Had this been in anything other than bad Broad Scots, it would be something we could show the Squires. Which reminds me of the story of when OGSF met the SSN. It was on one of those incarnations when all the lads of the Peng Challenge Thread were having a pronounced good time, drinking, singing, and tale-telling. They were all after having had many a scotch, and ale, and other things less identifiable, and rollicking along like there was no tomorrow, which there isn't, actually, on the Peng Challenge Thread, because by the time you get to tomorrow, it's full of Australians, so it's just like today but with even less coherency. But the lads of the Peng Challenge Thread started to notice (and believe me, it takes a while) that there was a New Arrival who wasn't participating in the drinking, in the taunting, and the jolly sing-songs. So finally, vicious bastards that they were, they delegated OGSF to go back and invite the Newcomer to join them. So OGSF staggers over to the Newbie, and after clearing his throat and spitting broadly somewhere mostly to the left of the poor sod's shoes, says: "Here! This is the Peng Challenge Thread, and we're after wondering why you aren't joining in the festivities! Is it because you have not the background?!" And the Newbie said, "Well, I noticed you were all having such a good time, and I wanted to join in, truly I did, but I didn't like to, you see, I didn't like to because, you see, I wasn't sure what was going on. I mean, you were all talking about things far over my head, and going on about things I'd not the wit to understand. Occasionaly, when you'd talk loudly about defecation, and sodding off, I'd understand, but I couldn't have joined in on the more intriguing topics to save my life." And OGSF told the Newbie: "Ah, don't worry yourself, lad! I've a wee spaniel at home that's the same way!"

Actually, not. I rather enjoy writing that sort of thing. Wait until you get to the 'Australian bit' (coming up). I'm nowhere's near done, Stuka. But I will go out and find us another scenario to play, me old china. Admit it, you liked it. Certainly hope so, as there's a good half dozen, at the minimum, episodes left to do.

All hail our Aussie and Kiwi chums! All our best, despite the continuing, you'll have to understand, need to Crush You All. Grog Dorosh, was the song you heard "And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda" by Aussie songwriter of adoption Eric Bogle? It's a lovely sing-song. He wrote it in honour of Anzac day, to my knowledge.

The utter and complete lack of anything exploding? The absence of Grogs sitting around the table throwing piss on each other? Bugger, I give up. Wait! Is it the absence of a good LOS to the church rooftop?! This is way harder than most of these 'picture problem' posts...

Marlow Comes to the Final Darkest Castle, Part II ...After the soft, green glow of the jungle outside, the transition into Schloss Peng turns out to be...well, dazzling, actually. Everything is beautifully and fullsomely lit, from many distinctive and tastefully disguised angles. Marlow, blinking and shuffling, makes his way through the entryway, hair stirring and ears thrumming from displaced air streaming past him towards the doors, which close as he finds himself in a hall where the room opens up, and up, daylight seeming to stream in from high windows set around the vaulted and arched ceiling. He stands, awed, staring at the banners that hang the length of the hall, rich with the figures and colours of Heraldry. Marlow: Schloss Peng. (his whisper of awe barely stirs the air, stilled and silent after the closing of the Great Doors.) I stand at the Center of all Time and Spa— (he shies aside as a harsh braying erupts from his left) Yeknod: Figgerines! Get yer Figgerines here! Lovely, lovely, Figgerines! Action Figgerines! Seniour Knights! Knights! Squire Sets! Collect 'Em all! Postcards! Get yer Schloss Peng Postcards! Staggered, Marlow swings to see an open, brightly lit Emporium, with row upon row of merchandise. A banner hangs from a pole by a cash register, reading: Schlosse Penge Gifte Shoppe. A donkey with distinctly human features stands behind the sales counter, waggling its eyebrows at him. Yeknod: Hello, Squire! Wonna buy a figgerine? Take it home for the kiddies, show the folks back home yer've been to Schloss Peng?! Send 'em a postcard? Nothing like an Humourous Post Card from Schloss Peng to buck 'em up back home! Marlow: I am no Squire! I am a Knight of the Cesspool, foul creature! Yeknod: 'Course you are, sir, 'course you are! I recognized it roight off! Says to meself, there, Yeknod, that's after being a Knight of the Cesspool! An' I wos right! Let me show you our collection of Humourous Cesspool plaques! with one hoof he spins forth a display of hammered metal and lacquer signs. They bear slogans like: "I Got Crabbes in the Cesspool, And There Are No Seafood Restaurants!", "Honk If You Hate Slapdragon", and "Beer! The Australian National Anthem In A Bottle!" Marlow: I...what sorcery is this?! Yeknod: Oh, well, Squ...er Good Sir Knight, the source of a lot of it's roight here in the Cesspool, sir, indeed it is. Native 'andicrafts, Sir. Take the Action Figgers! Lovely bit o' work, them. Lookit this! A quick flurry of hoof movements spreads half a dozen foot high figures over the countertop. Yeknod: Jus' look at the detail, sir! Every one a work o' art! Note the forlorn look on a' face of this Hiram Sedai figger, sir! And this sky-diving Stuka figger, all anatomical and correct, now there's Grog Porn fer you, sir, and wonderful work it is, 'specially given the scale! And this, this one of the Justicar, notice how the jaw never stops working?! How 'bout this Goanna figger, jus' look at the extension o' tongue! Dam' near put yer eye out, Squire! And how 'bout Meeks, sir, always a fav'rite! We've got three dif'rent styles, sir! 'Grand Inquisitor Elijah', 'Meeks the Apostate', and moi personal fav'rite, sir, 'Tree Full of Rats'. Lookit how each branch has half a dozen, sir, each more demented lookin' than the last! Marlow: I'm not here for toys, you...Er...just out of curiosity, do you have any of the Ladies of the Pool? The donkey looks around, and shifts nervously Yeknod: Well, sir, in a word, sir, in a word...no. Management frowns on it, sir. There were incidents. Mistakes were made. Although, Sir Knight, I do have a figgerine here o' Mace, and a whole flock of his loverlies! Marlow: No!! I am here for the Olde Ones! What of the Olde Ones?! Yeknod: Oh, them, yes, why din't yer Honour say so! Got all the Olde Ones here! Jus' lookit this! (again, a blur of hooves and the counter is filled with new wares) Why here's the Peng himself, sir! Note the crossed arms, either hand holding a mug or a jug, the stern countenance, the frown o' curmudgeonly judgement! An' here's the Berli! Lookit that! You can't barely see the sod, can yer?! Comes with refillable smoke pellets, so it does. And here, sir, here's the Seanachai. Very nice, that, caught in mid-caper. An' watch this, yer Honour. one hoof extends to...somehow...grap a ring at the back of the figure and pull. Immediately the figurine begins to sing 'Well I've been a wild rover for many a year...') That's quality, yer lordship! That's percision! That's value fer dollars! Oh, and no Aussie currency accepted, sir, just so's we're clear from the start. Real money only, sir. Marlow: I am here for the Olde Ones! Not toys, not 'figurines', not cheap imitations! I want to meet the Olde Ones themselves! Yeknod: Can't help you there, Squire. An' you shouldn't be calling me wares 'cheap', 'cause this is a licensed shop, and yer wouldn't believe the prices! (A merry tinkling of bells sounds) There, it's me lunch. And I'm that hungry. Back after me thistle and pint, Squire. (sweeps a 'Gone for Ye Olde Lunche' sign on to the counter, and slowly fades from sight, leaving only the image of a pair of arched eyebrows.) Marlow: What hell is this, that has such creatures in it? But I will not be stayed! I will not be put off! I will find the Olde Ones! A disembodied voice is heard, while one eyebrow waggles: Yer oughta speak with fewer exlamation points, lad! Yer goin' ta tire yerself! Marlow resolutely proceeds further into Schloss Peng.

Not now, Dorosh! I am fulfilling my responsibilities as an Olde One. Turns when the Wasteland has pushed forward...

A battered riverboat, scarred by arrows, it's woodwork hacked and splintered, with rails and flooring alike stained with old blood and things perhaps even less cheery, chugs its way up to a sturdy dock on the river's shore. Crouched at the forepeak is Marlow, rifle in hand, peering ahead, nervous as a cat. He goes unmet by battle, and the craft itself ties off and kills its engines. A courteously reserved figure awaits him on the dock. When no attacks are forthcoming, Marlow finally shoulders the gun and climbs on to the dock, then stands, clearly at a loss. The quiet figure awaiting him coughs politely and asks: Marlow, isn't it? Marlow: Yes! It is I, Marlow! Figure: Indeed, sir. Marlow: I've come to see the Olde Ones! None of your trickery! Take me to Schloss Peng! Figure: No doubt, sir. If you'd be good enough to follow me. The figure turns upon his heel and proceeds along a path from the river that winds its way through lush vegetation. Ahead Marlow can see it leave the trees and proceed up many switchbacks to an escarpment overlooking the river. Briefly clutching his rifle to himself, he hastens after the figure. Marlow: I won't be put off, you know! Figure: Of course not, sir. Marlow: I've sailed up through the very bowels of the Cesspool! I've seen Hell, and had it piss on my trouser leg! But I never gave up! I never turned back! Figure: Bravo, sir! Marlow: So I shall be taken to the Castle! I will meet with the Olde Ones! Figure: Never a question of it, sir. The path steepens, and for a time Marlow hasn't any breath for further declamations. Finally, it meanders more gently across the slope as they near the top. Marlow: And who are you? And what is your role, here at the Source of All Things? Figure: Oh, very nice, sir. I could hear the capitals. Not everyone can carry that off. Marlow: Answer me, foul spirit! Name thyself! The other turns his head and cocks an eyebrow Figure: Sir? Marlow: Er...that is... (suddenly wondering why his every statement seems like it ends in exclamation points) your name. I...um...I crave the boon of your name! (bugger, he thought, there's another one) Figure: Ah. Very good, sir. I'm Shaw, sir Knight. Joe Shaw. in the tripping and clutching after the rifle that follows, Marlow does a creditable job of neither losing his feet, dropping the rifle, or blowing his own head off. Marlow: Joe Shaw! Shaw: Yes, Sir Marlow. Marlow: The Justicar! Shaw: Indeed, Sir Marlow. You seem surprised, Sir Knight. Marlow: I...you are the Justicar! Why are you...that is, surely some Squire, or Serf...that is... Shaw: Ah. Indeed, Sir Knight. You're surprised that I should meet you at the dock and conduct you hence. Marlow: I am surprised! Er, that is, not that I hold you in any awe...that is, I am a Knight of the Cesspool! And thou a Seniour Knight! Shaw: Aren't we just, though? And, perhaps, if you'd care to, you might go easier on the exclamation points? Surely Sir Knight should conserve his strength. Marlow: Of...oh, well, of course. Yes. Shaw: As to my meeting you and bringing you hence, is it not written: 'No Man shall come to the Peng Challenge Thread save through me?' Marlow: Is it? Shaw: Oh, indeed, sir. Wrote it myself. Very clear on that point. And is it not also written: 'In Schloss Peng, there are many mansions, and I go to prepare a place for you. See you at the dock.' Marlow: Did you write that too? Shaw: Of course, sir. Marlow: But...then you're just some sort of...er, well, glorified Butler? frown Shaw: Ahaha! Sir Knight will have his little joke. I am the Justicar, Sir Knight. I will bring you to Justice. And here we are. They have arrived at a set of massive doors, set in an imposing, rich, but rather baroque looking building. Marlow stares up, stunned, but finds himself somewhat anxious. While impressive, the building isn't particularly...martial looking. He turns back to Shaw, who has turned away to leave. Marlow: Er, good Sir Shaw! Shaw: Yes? Marlow: This is Schloss Peng? Shaw: Oh, indubitably. Marlow: And here I shall confront the Olde Ones? Shaw: Oh, yes indeed, this is where you will meet them. Marlow: And here I shall stare into the very Heart of Corruption, and all my questions will be answered, and I shall look upon the Face of My Enemies, and Challenge Them? Shaw: All that, and more, sir. Don't forget to visit the Gifte Shoppe. It's on the left after the Entry Hall. Marlow: The what? What of the Olde Ones? Where shall I find the Olde Ones?! Shaw: In the Great Audience Hall, sir. Poke about a bit, and you'll find it. Oh, and sir? Marlow: Yes? Shaw: Flash photography's welcome, except in designated areas. Enjoy your stay in Schloss Peng. With a slight 'whoosh' of air that implies that no expense has been spared to impart dramatic sound enhancements to the Schloss Peng Experience, the doors part and slowly open. Shaw has disappeared. Clutching his rifle, Marlow enters the Darkness That Lies at the Heart of Everything. There's a mumbled curse as he hits his head on the lower end of the capital 'E'. to be continued...

There, there, Marlow, you'll be alright. The lovely thing about the Peng Challenge Thread, you see, is that it is all things to all men, and a few things that are at least occasionally funny to a handful of women. That's not bad, really, given the nature of Reality™. Now, I think it's nice to unwind sometimes with a lovely run of utter idiocy about things like Star Trek, and John Wayne, and all the little inconsequentials that make the World such a very odd place. But you're right, of course, on a deeper level, and we must never lose sight of the true purpose, nature, and raison d'etre of the Peng Challenge Thread. And, on that note, please see my next post after this, when I shall be Taunting you and Challenging you to a game. But, before that, I feel a sudden, very 'lowly mortal' need to make a few observations on recent topics. Shaw, dear fellow, 6 of 9 is indeed quite, er, 'robust', and rather wonderful in her sense of 'alienness'. But hardly classic, although looking at her does always make me think of Wisconsin. Now, I'm in complete agreement with Berli regarding Dr. Who. A fabulous program, and although John Pertwee was classy and quite a decent Doctor, Tom Baker will always be Dr. Who for me. I remember a program where he was captured by some Evil Bad Guy's henchman, who cast him onto the floor at the feet of his master, and Baker popped his head up with a disarmingly goofy smile and said: "I love your manservant, he's so wonderfully violent!" Now, although the lovely Leela did go scantily clad, and was herself wonderfully violent, the loveliest assistant of the Doctor, who would make any but a heart of stone go pit-a-pat, was Sarah Jane Smith. Dalem, drunk or sober, only a toad could find anything worthwhile in Kirk. His only interesting achievement during the course of his existence was in "The Wrath of Khan", in which the character of James T. Kirk was the only being to actually make a shout 'echo' in the vacuum of space, reaching all the way to the surface of a planet. It forced humanity to amend a slogan to: "In space, the only one you can hear scream is Kirk". [ April 24, 2002, 12:15 AM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

It is an early Monday morning. The sun is becoming bright on the land. No one is watching as he comes a walking. Two bulky suitcases hang from his hands.

Enough with your 'unzipping' lad, and questions regarding 'how you dispose of them'. Have you no shame?!

Ahem. Much as I would desire to remain above this sort of 'Pop Culure' cheapening of our sacred Peng Challenge Thread values, it behooves me to say that James T. Kirk was the lowest and most feeble Garden Gnome of Starfleet Captains. Everything about Kirk was hateful in the eyes of the gods. From his horrendous 'over-the-top' pretenses at acting, to his willingness (shared by 'Next Generation's' Riker) to have it off with everything in space, he defamed and belittled everything that would have made Mankind's leaving this planet worthwhile. As our 'First Ambassador', the only 'logical' response of every race encountered would have been the genocide of humanity. Normally, I would have bridled at this remark of Shaw's. But the latest news regarding La Pen has left me despondent. I will not believe that so great a nation will take such a path to perdition. It is not to be borne.

We are poor little lambs, that have lost our way, bah, bah, bah! Seriously, Aunty Jack, if you want to spew bile all over Slapdragon, just pop into the Cesspool now and then. You can hate him to your hearts content, and most of the regulars won't even look up from their pints. I mean, this desire to despise and expose him for cause is just daft. Hate him the way we do, for himself. Then the Grog threads can get back to having a purpose. 'Strawman' arguments? Bugger, we're starting to see a pattern of 'Strawman Chorus and Dance Line' threads! Time was when a Grog thread was simply incomprehensible to one of my limited intelligence. I used to read them, eyes as wide as a child's, for the Brave New World of esoteric knowlege they opened before me. Now they're completely comprehensible, but dull, stupid, and irritating. For every post that attempts to sort out some sort of truth, there's two more trying to get the knife in. Believe me, I'd never have come in on some of those threads as I have on this one if I thought any good, however limited, would come of it. But this...whatever Mr. Kettler's original intent, this is just an excuse for the same dogs to have another slash on the same rusting signpost.

Oh, certainly, Andreas, History. But I wasn't on about History, now was I? Confronted by sweeping rhetoric and an exercise in prose, your narrow, German educational bias kicks in and starts telling the beads of 'history', brow furrowed, lips twitching to note each divergence from some 'standardized' vision of History, which has naught to do with my own actions. I can almost hear you: "Are they all in a row, my little ducks of History? Are any out of place, forgotten, or unpleasingly displayed? I shall not forget one, not one, and show that Yankee fool the error, the shameful error, of using facts for impact, rather than to build a house of History! Ah, Mutti, I feel the horrible cords of metaphor choking me as we speak!" Still, I forgive you, for you but follow your Grog nature, and have forgotten those days when you, too, stood within the 'Pool. Go, now, and correct the plays of Shakespeare, my troubled German friend, for there, too, will you find innumerable errors in 'History'.

Yes, Grog Dorosh, our time has come. They posture. They mewl. They have become weak, and worthless. What better time to forge a union of Grog and Cesspool, and sweep them forever into the toilet of history? Do they not long for it? Does not their every post cry out for the lash of satire and knowledge, equally combined, to drive them to their knees in an ecstasy of abasement? Here, perched on the brink of CMBB we see how their feuds, their self-serving arrogance, and their dark fantasies have weakened them, diminished them, and made them slaves to their own petty needs. Is this not how Rome fell? In Aunty Jack, can we not see a hissing Cassius? In his arrogance and pomp, can we not see Slapdragon draping himself in purple, and thinking to himself 'Caesar'? How long before the Board must suffer Nero? Caligula? Shall we two sit by, and watch the degradation of what was once great?! Now let us seek our time, and make our pact to rule these weaklings, these straw men with their petty angers and their poisoned dreams! Rally you those Grogs who yet remain true, above base intrigues, untouched by vendetta, undemeaned by all that is unseemly and low. And I, I will bring to our cause the raw and unruly forces of the barbarian Cesspool, whose energies are not yet spent, not diluted with endless and sneering self-congratulation from Grogs who've given over any love of Truth or Forum. For the Peng Challengers strain against these bonds of propriety, these hollow courtesies, these mincing forms of observance that they have made due with all this time. But their lust for battle, to be made free of all such restraint, remains unslaked. If we but give the word and let slip their chains, like Berli's Hell Hound that guards the gates of the 'Pool, their chaos shall run forth, and snatch to madness all that the Poseurs would maintain. When Chaos, unleashed, has run it's course, and the mean and and useless have been destroyed in the rush of Cess, then might your rallied Grogs, firm of purpose, well-spoken, and reasonable, reassert the ancient verities, and redeem the Forum. Then shall you and I, smiling, and most Canadian-like in our self-effacement, receive the accolades of the folk. And, our enemies destroyed, our brows wreathed with wise counsel and on our lips the words 'it was but needed, it was but right', then shall we be almighty, and, without seeming to, so shall we rule. My hand upon it, Grog Dorosh!

Isn't it time for you to return to your role of 'pathological stable boy' from the play Equus over in your utterly silly 'Cavalry' thread?