Seanachai

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by von shrad: Koopa-Troopa has brought us an omen. Mr.T in the Matha Beautiful Thread can only mean one thing; the cesspool will rise from the ashes like a Phoenix (hopefully igniting many of the inhabitants) bent on more anarchy. BTW it is rumored that Mr.T is the second coming of Christ. Seanachai, all I can say is that sometimes my anger gets the best of me. I, like you, do not wish to continue like a bad Elvis/Kitty after school special. Not to make excuses as to not sound like the pond scum amoebae I really am, I had a kicker of a day yesterday. I am talking major auto repairs to the death of a close friends wife. That is no excuse for the way I said what I meant though. Looking back and settling down I see that I was wrong in at least one aspect. I should have E-mailed you personally. Now that was not an apology. I could give you one but then I would have to jab long metal objects in your ears, wiring them to the car battery and dragging you behind at unsafe speeds until you forget what a complete waste of oxygen you are. But enough about my pastimes. If I can't perform a root canal through your ear drum I will instead round up your little troops that have no choice but to listen to all your hot air on the field of battle. VS<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Why, Shrad...here on the Peng Challenge Thread...that's...that's rather like a hug, isn't it? I'm almost sure it's as close as we all ever get! I appreciate your posting. Do not worry too much over momentary anger, and some of the points you made angry I wouldn't necessarily disagree with. I hope you realize that although I'm occassionaly a little dismissive, I actually like newcomers to the Peng Challenge Thread. Firstly, I love an audience. Secondly, folk such as myself need a constant influx of people who haven't yet learned to scream 'oh bloody hell, Seanachai's spewing his apalling gibberish into the Thread again'. And certainly recent activity has shown me that there's certainly life in the old Thread yet. I shall remain, I believe, and teach a new generation to mutter 'good god, why can't that pompous nutter just shuffle off to Bedlam where he belongs'. Now, who's for a bit of a reconciling sing-song? ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by von shrad: That's right you pompous ass. After reading enough of your absolute arrogant post to kill a small army...You shoot off your fat mouth like you own this thread. You own none of it newbie...You sir are an asshole, first class...You are so pathetic...The original idea for the kniggits was to establish a 'crazy ladder, so to speak. A way for others to test their skills and HAVE FUN...Its a game clown...Who the #$@^ made you God? So in short, do as you said and leave until you feel this thread is worthy of you again and also take a good long look in the mirror. Do you see yourself as a lot of people here do? An Asshole! Sorry for the rant but could not stand your pompous ways anymore NEWBIE! <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Odd. I seem to have exactly the same effect on most of the clergy. Only one point of order: Peng has already clearly stated that everything in this Thread belongs to him (including the above description of myself, which he'll probably frame), so of course I don't believe this Thread belongs to me. Now, von shrad has had his say, and I have every reason to believe he doesn't intend to continue in the Kitty/Elvis vein, so I think only those who wish to pick up torches and pitchforks and help drive Seanachai from the village need to chime in! Otherwise, I suggest we go about enjoying this Thread, this little patch of weirdness, this Cesspool. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by jshandorf: You know where to shove it Hiram. Just make sure you push aside the Gerbils to make way. Jeff<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Jeffrey. Can we not, just for a moment, allow the hamsters and gerbils out of their mythical container? Let them romp and play upon the grass without supposedly evolved primates portraying them in a place that rodents do not, and were never intended, to inhabit? Can you forego complaining of the gerbil in thy neighbours bum, given that you cannot remove the camel from your own? Now, telling people to shove it is counter-productive of a good, rousing dialogue. Suffer the little rodents, Jeffrey, to come forth. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Croda: Well I for one still enjoy the Mutha Beautiful Thread. And I'd have to say that anything worth complaining about, has to have a shred of worth to it. I've tried, be it perhaps fruitless, to beat Anubis to death with a duck...a DUCK for crying out loud! Will I be the only one to show an emotion other than sorrow or apathy? <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Oh, sod it, no. THAT DUCK SHALL NOT HAVE DIED IN VAIN! Actually, it most likely died in Pennsylvania, which is as good a place as any for it to shuffle off to join the choir celestial. Now, having just shouted out that no duck shall fall but that I take note of it, I feel the need for a bit of a lie down. But, may I just say in the interim: Let me speak proudly: tell the Constable We are but warriors of the working-day; Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd With rainy marching in the painful field; There's not a piece of feather in our host— Good argument, I hope, we will not fly— And time hath worn us into slovenry. But, by the mass, our hearts are in trim; and my poor soldiers tell me, yet ere night, They'll be in fresher robes... -Henry V IV, iv ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads. [This message has been edited by Seanachai (edited 11-21-2000).]

Well, what a marvelously unproductive period. I'm assuming Kitty has departed, and will not return. Since her posts here were something that might better have been worked out in emails, or through a mediator, we shan't cry. Elvis, I would take it as a personal favour to myself if you would let this whole thing just drop, and not post on the subject anymore. This Todd and Lord General MB, what masterful posting of unbelievably dull, insipid, and, dare I say it, stupid ****e. Normally we are, in our own foul way, a very welcoming thread. You two can bugger off, however. You have nothing to offer the folk here, nor, I imagine, anywhere else, but you're welcome to prove me wrong by finding new threads where people jump up with joy when you enter to post. That won't be this thread, however, where you barely caused people to gather the energy to tell you that you were dull and isgnificant. Chupacabra, I think you might well be right. The whole Knight/Squire thing was originally based on the perceived need to determine who should get acknowledged by merit of their taunting and posting skills. Lately, it's deteriorated into something other, and taunting and invective have deteriorated to people bringing in stool samples, most of which would cause a physician to proclaim the bearer quite unhealthy and in need of care. Let us now return to the normal business of this Thread, whatever that has become, and drop the whole Kitty/Elvis thing, and please ignore some of the rather useless rodents who've wandered in here to make their rather drab little obsevations that they can, in fact, type. At this rate, when the world is again unmade and the Peng Challenge Thread sinks into the digital mud as the Server once again rejects it, it won't be myself restarting it. Unless things improve, Berli, Peng, and I shall be waiting in the desert for when the Board is once again ready for the Peng Challenge Thread. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Hiram Sedai: Damn...Mace beat me to the incontinant joke.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Like I haven't already scattered enough urine over the heads of both you baptized babes to make you envy the ones who only got a smear of oil and a bit of water on the forelock. Take your snivelling half witty remarks back to the Peng Thread, children, so that I may re-dedicate your otherwise worthless lives to CM. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Lord General MB: Soldiers, The gravity of the Peng thread is increasing, I can feel the level of relavance droping.... Were all doomed, DOOMED I say DOOMED! <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Certainly if we rely on you to lead us to safety. Now, rather than post gibberish threads, why not come over to the post you mention so we can slit you up a treat, as it were? ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by chrisl: Now that, Lewis, is the stuff you ought to be posting to the Cesspool. None of this "truth" stuff, or football scores. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> You gibbering little toe demon, 'Lewis' should not be posting in this thread at all. I'm extremely unhappy with PeterNZer for dragging ****e like that in here, so don't play to it. He harps on 'honour' but he'll play against Lewis. Even a sodding Kiwi should know better. Now leave off, and get down to doing the right thing by letting Peng cave your head in. Thanks for sorting out how to use your email program to attach files. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by chrisl: If we wanted truth we'd be out there reading Seanachai's mind. This is the Cesspool-- we demand creative descriptions of the destruction of your enemies, whether it's true or not! If you can't come up with that, then creative insults of Seanachai's enemies, or if you're like Seanachai, a bit of sing-sing inspired by a love for all things. Oh, and one more thing-- don't apologize for anything in the cesspool. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Well said, young Chris L. Now, with all that in mind, you are aware that your last post (the one threatening to burn the rest of my Cromwells) was not accompanied by a file? For the second time, one of your emails to me had no turn attached? Not to harp on your troubles with file attachments, but just so's you're aware. Right. I await your scurrying to put this right. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Hiram Sedai: MRPeng is a "Wussy Boy" Having a multiple personality convey your sad message is well, sad. Anyway...hope to see you soon. PS I told my mom I converse with Elvis on a weekly basis and she suggested I go back to church. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Sorry, Hiram, but Peng cannot be contained in a single personality. He covers vast spaces of psychic real estate. And your mothers remark is the funniest thing I've read here in days. I'm sure she'd still say the same if she met our Elvis, and realized you weren't talking about 'the King'. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Geier: The signs: I'M REALLY REALLY BORED and have decided to kill you all. Have a nice day, <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Now you can't ask for fairer than that from the Swiss, or the Swedes, or the Swazis, or whatever 'Sw' nation Geier belongs to, now can you? ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Berlichtingen: Seanachai, Well stated... if a bit long winded.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Exactly, Berli. That is how I have fun. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

A backpacked figure makes its way through a dark and formless landscape. The terrain is completely flat, featureless, and extends away into dimness in all directions. Slowly it moves towards the only point of reference, a fire alight on the plain. As it finally draws up to it, three seated figures confront him across the low burning flames that barely illuminate the scene. On the left sits the figure of what seems an old man with long, unkempt hair, mumbling and laughing to himself. Occassionally low snatches of song and rhyme fill the air around him. The middle figure sits with arms folded, silent except for an occassional sound of angry muttering, too low to catch any meaning. An aura of judgement and indefinable loss radiates from it. The third sits completely silent, eyes glowing. It is the hardest to make out, seemingly seated amidst clouds of shifting smoke, and resonates with a feeling of evil. None of the figures are those of giants, but all seem somehow to loom over the landscape around them and the figure that comes to a stop on the far side of the fire, and waits to be noticed. The three figures remain as they are, and finally, shifting uncomfortably, the standing figure calls out. "Hail, Old Ones!" Two sit on indifferent, but the figure of the old man looks up smiling, peering into the flickering light where the figure stands. "Who calls?" "I, EveryNewbie!" They regard him in silence, then the old man answers him. "Bugger that, you're Marlow." "How do you know that?" "Saw you coming, now didn't we?" "Then why did you ask who called?" "To see what you'd answer, you silly little sod." "And who are you?" The figures all smile. "If you don't know, our telling you won't do any bloody good. Who do you think we are?" "You are the Old Ones of the Cesspool. The Creators. The ones who brought it all into being." "Why not. So what does that mean to you? Is that who you believe we are?" "The others say you are has beens. They say you don't even exist, or you are all the same person. They say you don't matter anymore. They say you're all pretenders to importance." "Goodness, they have quite a bit to say. And what do you think?" "I have come here to find out! " "Have you indeed?" The lone figure of Marlow, everynewbie, looks around nervously. "What is this place? I've walked across it for many days." "Why, this is the Cesspool, lad. Didn't you say you were looking for it's creators?" "But...but I've been in the Cesspool! This can't be the Cesspool, there's nothing here! It's just all emptiness, and...and...nothing!" "You think so, eh?" "Yes! It's all just dim, and flat, and dull." "That's right, lad. That's what the Cesspool is." "That's not true! I've been there! There's people, and taunting, and vast caverns filled with effluent, and rats, and hamsters, and PT boats, and castles, and sing-songs, and Knights and Ladies, and Islands, and laughter, and, and—all sorts of stuff!" The Dark Figure wreathed in smoke picks up what looks like a carved human figure from a stack beside and slightly behind it, and tosses it on the fire. It seems to writhe briefly, then the flames leap a little higher. "This is the Cesspool, lad." Says the Old Man. "This is what it was, and is. Everywhere where no one's been yet. The Cesspool you know is where we've been, and where folk followed. Now it's filled with things that didn't ever exist before. But before we went there, it was all just like this. An endless plain, filled with nothing. But you can walk the 'Pool, lad, and it becomes whatever you wish." The figure of Marlow looks at them dubiously. "Whatever I wish?" "Of course. What do you think? We waltzed in here one day and took over a furnished flat? No, there was nothing. There was this, that you see, which seems less than nothing." "Then you are the Old Ones, the Creators!" "Sure we are, lad. We created everything you see around you." Marlow looks around again. "But there's still nothing here!" "Now you begin to see. We made this place. It exists because we wished it. We let you and the other folk in, and you make it into what you want, or need, or desire. But it's all just this, lad. Just what you see." "But...here, where You are, it's formless?" "Looks like ****e to me. Do you see anything better?" "But if you're the Old Ones, you're all powerful!" The Three laugh. It is not an altogether pleasant sound, especially from the Dark One. The Old Man leans forward. "Lad, cut open an apple, and there's a seed. Is that the center? Cut open the seed, and there is nothing. Is that the center?" "I don't understand." "Of course you don't. We were here when the others came. They didn't see this plain of nothingness. They saw us. They saw taunts and PBEMs, challenges, and insults. They saw lawyers, and mormon wives. More came, and they saw the cartoons, and hamsters. More came yet and they heard sing-songs, and they found the knowledge of 'Lost to Peng', and they saw Chupacabra's 7 score. More and more came, and they met TC Schutz. The Germans came, the French came, the Australians came. The World entered into the Cesspool. Discord came, and some railed and belittled. Others defended and laughed. Some came seeking challenges. Some came seeking sanctuary. Some came seeking experience. There was literature. There was weirdness. There were even Women. And the more who came, the more Cesspool there was. It spread in every direction, it became whatever the people brought with them. It became a world as large as any other." "We are the Powers within the Peng Challenge Thread. Within the world you call the Cesspool. But around us, unseen, are the Testers, and the Scenario Creators, and the Mod Makers. Above us are the Moderators. And above them all are the True Creators, that made the Game, the Board, the Moderators, the Testers, the Mod Makers, the Peng Challenge Thread, and even you, little Marlow, and even such as We. What were you before the Game, before the Board, and before the Peng Challenge Thread? Were you Marlow? We think not. You were something else, but not Marlow. Not standing here on this empty plain, asking us for a vision of the Truth. And that is what all the squeaking children in the Cesspool forget. That is what they do not see. This empty place, this is the Cesspool. Formless and void, completely unimagined. We came here, and imagined it. And there was taunting. There was laughter. There were PBEMs. The Cesspool, little Marlow, is Fun. It was so because we wished it to be so. It was so because others wanted there to be fun. And if it ceases to be fun, it will cease to be." "Why is all this place where I've been, where you are now, why is it empty and drab, dull, dim, and ugly?" "the Cesspool is what the people make it." "But what about all the things that you mentioned, all the things I've seen in the Cesspool myself?!" "That is what was. Where is it now? This is what is. What will it be? The first Peng Challenge Thread is gone. As the people move forward into the Cesspool, it becomes what they make it." "So you are telling me it won't always be formless and empty here?" "It will be unless it is made otherwise. Create well, little Marlow, you and the others who are coming. You push aside the ones you call useless, but what have you made on your own? As far as the light of this fire, is what you have made so far." Marlow looks around and behind himself. "There's still nothing here. It's all empty and ugly!" The Three laugh again. For the first time the other two figures speak, and the Central Figure mutters "Even a blind pig finds an acorn occassionaly", and the Dark Figure softly says "exactly, you silly bastard." Unnerved, Marlow shuffles his feet, and shifts the straps of his backpack. "And what of you? What will become of you, if the Cesspool ceases to be 'fun', and is unmade?" "We abide," the Old Man tells him. "I know who and what you are now!" Marlow boldly and angrily yells. "Indeed. And who, and what, are we?" "You, Old Man, are Seanachai, that they all call Senility! And that one in the middle is Peng, the Curmudgeon! And the other...the other...(gasping, suddenly weak), That's Berli. They claim he's evil!" "That is who we are, or at least what you can grasp. Those are names, and we do bear them. But they are only names. Now, who are we?" And the Dark Figure named Berli reaches out and taps Marlow on the forehead, and he goes very still. "You are Seanachai, that means Bard, but you are the Fool, and the Trickster. Peng is Judgement, and Loss. Berli is...Berli is...Berli's evil." Seanachai smiles at him. "Don't be so stupid. Berli isn't Evil. Berli is Death. You couldn't even say it, could you?" Marlow nods. "Or rather, let us say that we are the Past, the Present, and the Future. Now, do you know which is which?" "Er, Peng is the...the Past, and, and you are the Present, and...Berli is the Future?" "Don't be silly, Marlow. You have to keep all this within the context of a wargame, after all. Peng is indeed the Past, with it's judgements and losses, but Berli is the present, filled with destruction and death, and I am the Future, filled with whimsy and celebration. Aren't I always after a sing-song?" "I see. What shall I tell the others?" "Well, lad, you could tell them you met with the three of us, and we were figures out of legend, and explained the mysteries of the 'Pool to you, and that we are the Three Fates, but I imagine they'll just laugh themselves into the necessity of putting on dry pants. Tell them you found an empty and formless desert." "I'm going back now, then." Seanachai nods and smiles, Peng mumbles 'right, get on with it, you pillock', and Berli throws another carved figure on the fire. Marlow strides back into the darkness from which he came, and can be heard muttering 'right, then, if the Cesspool is whatever we imagine and make it into, I'm going to have a harem, and live in Schloss Peng, and I'm going to be a Grand Master Knight and have a duchy..." Peng: What did you tell him all that for? Might as well tell it to a cat. Seanachai: Oh, I don't imagine he'll retain any of it. They never do. Tomorrow he'll be shouting about penises, and making defecation remarks, and practicing low-key homophobia and misogeny like all the rest of the new arrivals. Berli, stop throwing newbies on the fire, it's getting uncomfortably hot and smoky. Berli: That's the thing about newbies, they don't cast much light, but they burn fast and stink. Peng: Do you think they'll reach us anytime soon? Or even ever? Seanachai: Hard to say. Not anytime soon; not at the rate they're going. I imagine it will be empty out here for some time to come. Berli: You made a good story of it. Except for that lie at the end. You know that you're the Present, and I'm their Future. Seanachai: We know that Berli, but why ruin the poor little tyke's day? And after he'd come all this way. Much nicer for them to think they had something to look forward to, like a sing-song. Now, what shall we do while we wait for them to make something of themselves? Berli: How 'bout a QB? Peng: Why not, I believe I'll win this time. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by jshandorf: Does that mean they don't have internet service in Antarctica yet? Sheesh, what a back water primitive place THAT must be. Why on earth would anyone want to go there? Jeff<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Because although the weather's worse than here in Minnesota, there are no Shandorfs. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by YK2: Actually, being Scottish myself I LMFAO every time I read his posts, Guess they make me feel at home, I can see it would be pretty difficult for anyone not used to the Scottish slang to get through his posts with ease, but to me, well, its like shelling peas really, easy peasy. Croda my little sweetie, don't be so hasty in your views, if we are to adopt you then you will have to get used to much more vertigo inducing accents than OGSF'S. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> I have to agree with YK2, I read them. And besides, you're original analogy was horribly flawed. None of Adam Sandler's movies were remotely funny. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

I laughed, I cried, I think I wet myself. I will definitely download this once it's available. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE?!! EVERYONE SIT DOWN! STOP THAT! AND THAT! AND MOST ESPECIALLY THAT! Hiram, go check the 'Pool pharmaceuticals vault. Also the beverage cellar. I'm sure you'll find nothing but broken glass and empty plastic containers, but give it a quick look anyway. Good gods, the reek of testosterone in here is actually suppressing the normal vapours. I stepped out this evening to visit a friend, and return to some kind of Saturnalia turned into Sawdust Death Pit Match. YK2 is indeed a Lady of the Pool. Kitty is whatever she wishes to be, and is most welcome here. I am quite confused, as we are 5 days past the full moon. A little less frenzy, lads. Liberty is not license. Now, as I am very tired, and it is snowing here in Minnesota, I am going to sleep. By morning, I expect most of the chemical imbalance achieved here tonight will have self-corrected, and my Squire and I can start a little tidying up. Good night to America, good morning to the Europeans now arising, and down to the pub for you Aussie/Kiwi types. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

I did not originate this, it was sent on to me from a friend. I have no idea on authorship, but it is apropos to some recent discussions. NOTICE OF REVOCATION OF INDEPENDENCE To the citizens of the United States of America, In the light of your failure to elect a President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective today. Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchial duties over all states, commonwealths and other territories. Except Utah, which she does not fancy. Your new prime minister (The rt. hon. Tony Blair, MP for the 97.85% of you who have until now been unaware that there is a world outside your borders) will appoint a minister for America without the need for further elections. Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire will be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed. To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect: 1. You should look up “revocation” in the Oxford English Dictionary. Then look up “aluminium”. Check the pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it. Generally, you should raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. Look up “vocabulary”. Using the same twenty seven words interspersed with filler noises such as “like” and “you know” is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication. Look up “interspersed”. 2. There is no such thing as “US English”. We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. 3. You should learn to distinguish the English and Australian accents. It really isn’t that hard. 4. Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as the good guys. 5. You should relearn your original national anthem, “God Save The Queen”, but only after fully carrying out task 1. We would not want you to get confused and give up half way through. 6. You should stop playing American “football”. There is only one kind of football. What you refer to as American “football” is not a very good game. The 2.15% of you who are aware that there is a world outside your borders may have noticed that no one else plays “American” football. You will no longer be allowed to play it, and should instead play proper football. Initially, it would be best if you played with the girls. It is a difficult game. Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which is similar to American “football”, but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like nancies). We are hoping to get together at least a US rugby sevens side by 2005. 7. You should declare war on Quebec and France, using nuclear weapons if they give you any merde. The 98.85% of you who were not aware that there is a world outside your borders should count yourselves lucky. The Russians have never been the bad guys. 8. July 4th is no longer a public holiday. November 8th will be a new national holiday, but only in England. It will be called “Indecisive Day”. 9. All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap and it is for your own good. When we show you German cars, you will understand what we mean. 10. Please tell us who killed JFK. It’s been driving us crazy. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Elijah Meeks: And what the bloody hell is going on with you multiple squire knights? We put this up for discussion some time ago, and the comments on allowing two were positive. I think you were drunk somewhere. And another thing, Pawbroon and I still haven't started our battle, dammit Seanachai, so get it back to us, lest we hang your naughty bits off the flagpole! I posted here days ago that I couldn't get the sodding file to load, it's corrupted somehow (I consider the source). It won't load from the Scenarios folder, it won't load from the Saved Games folder, and it creates a file entitled 'junk file (string of gibberish)' in whatever folder I'm trying to load it from. You could try resending, but I think the file might be buggered. I'm on a Mac, but I've loaded scenarios created on PCs before, so I wouldn't think that was the problem. Didn't I also send you an email about this? I might not have, but definitely posted here. These amateur knights need to be taught a lesson. I say we institute lordships, so that knights have something to strive for. We've become lazy and stupid, posting the kind of tripe we'd never have accepted from squires. Yes, lordships, and they should be limited to five or six. I declare myself Lord of Schloss Peng, given that Seanachai never completed that battle and therefor it is mine. Anyone who wants it will have to take it from my dead hands. Ya ha! Let the insanity begin! I have no problems with lordships, but Peng and Berli are automatics, of course. Even Hell has Heirarchies. As for our battle, you're right, and I abase myself in my contrition; it needs to be finished. I will find the files and we will continue. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by mensch: ...and straped on his Unholy Chaos Sword "Festering Pie Hole" §Your mine you bootless dizzy-eyed flap-dragon!$ er FPH, let me do the talking..ok? §Right boss, sorry... being stuck in this sword makes me testy§ right where was I.. oh yes.. so my frothy bly-bitten clotpole, prepare to be smitten once more and your small-minded neanderthal of a Knight can't help you.. §A Squire smashing we go.. a Squire smashing we go.ooohhh! ..eer we go eer we go eer we go!.. eer we g...§ FPH! §sorry boss§ Die-a-lots-now plebeian. §ya lots be dying soon§ B]<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Wonderful. Either Mensch has started internally processing some sort of Wagnerian germanic racial memory involving cursed swords, or he's entered the 'Elric of Melnibone' phase of his decent into madness. In either case, the neighbour's dachshund is in for some new and disturbing experiences by way of Mensch's hand-me-down meds. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by jdmorse: Well put my faithful squires, this rune and his misbegotten git know not what they have unleashed..... <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Anyone notice how much grovelling and unity of purpose Morse gets out of his Squires? Must be the result of the ability to pull someone's criminal record and make it public. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Croda: You are like one of... ...Now that is how to get rid of... <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Croda, I would take it as a personal favour if you never shared that much of your daily routine with us again. Truly. I would even say something nice about you, if you would restrain your pathological need to publicize such personal details. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Hiram Sedai: Sir Lorak, the sod known as Seanachai is my sponsor. He took me in and fed me breakfast when I was wandering in the woods and fell face first into the pool August last. I was stupified by his verbiosity and was amazed that he would brag and taunt, only to lose to the Pod known as MRPeng. He did the same with Hamsters (God rest his furry little soul) So, the cycle of taunting and then losing made me wonder if perhaps taunting is overated. *I would rather win. In concusion, Sir Lorak, I would like to humbly submit that my addle brained sponsor is Sir Seanachai and hopefully he will remember who he is sponsoring. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Ah, Hiram, I know that being my Squire has not always been easy for you. I know that after my 'Loss To Peng' the other Squires must have teased and abused you unmercifully. I know that this has made you sulky and despondent, so I have turned a blind eye to remarks about my literary adaptations. But you must not despair. I know that you have the stuff of greatness in you. Now, we are currently involved in a match. Think how cheerful you'll be if you defeat me. I have been remiss. Like a father going out to toss the frisbee around with his son, a Knight must battle his own Squires in order to help them hone their skills, and further the bonding process (bonding, everyone, bonding! Now, Everyone Sit Down!) Remember, Hiram: ”People that are really very weird can get into sensitive positions and have a tremendous impact on history.” ...Governor George W. Bush, Jr. So, Lorak, Hiram Sedai is indeed my Squire. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads. [This message has been edited by Seanachai (edited 11-15-2000).]

Within the walls of a massive, crumbling, disreputable fortress stands a small building in a courtyard. It is a chapel (C of P, that is, 'Cesspool of Peng', or 'the Peng Rite'). Voices, predominantly male, are upraised in a hymn who's tune is hauntingly familiar, though the words are...not. It's a joy to be vicious It's a joy to be cruel It's a joy to laugh and call the others fools It's a gift we've been given 'cause we dwell in the 'Pool Where the rights of taunt and invective rule. Taunt, taunt, wherever you may be For you are the vile and disorderly And you shall taunt, wherever you may be And the joy of the taunting will set you free. As the voices trail off, one resonant voice is raised within. My, my, isn't that a lovely old Cesspool hymn? Yes indeed. And how in keeping with our sermon today, my brothers! (catcalls, unprintable expletives, unspeakably obscene gerunds, and the odd hiccup greet his remark). Yes indeed. NOW SHUT YOUR CAKE HOLES, YOU DISAPPOINTINGLY EVOLVED BIPEDS! (silence slowly falls) Today's sermon is one familiar, I'm sure, to all. Except, perhaps, to some of our new, enthusiastic, but thoughtless Squires. It is from "Peng's First Letter to the Cesspoolers: Sod You Lot, I've Regurgitated More Interesting Things Than You Are". (Polite clapping from some of the older, seated congregation.) (aherm) Though I speak with the tongues of men and of grogs, and do not taunt, I am become a sounding ass, or like tinkling on a cymbal. And though I have the gift of tactics, and understand all the mysteries of armour, and all knowledge of units; and though I have all most needful to play Combat Mission, so that I could assault mountains, and have not taunting, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my troops to instill fear, and though I give my opponent's armour to be burned, and have not taunting, it profits me nothing. Taunting makes suffering long, and is harsh; taunting does not envy, instead it boasts of itself, it is always arrogant and rude. It does behave itself unseemly, seeks always its own, is easily provoked, and thinks evil; rejoices in iniquity, and totally buggers the truth; Taunting makes bare all things, would have others believe all things, belittles all things, and endures no slight. Taunting never fails; where there is ability, it shall fail; where tongues speak well, they shall cease; where there is knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know in part, and we have ability in part. But when perfect taunting is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I insulted as a child, I mocked as a child, and I taunted as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through the 'Pool, darkly; but we taunt electronically. Now I taunt for my part; but I shall taunt even as also I am taunted. So abuse, vulgarity, and taunting abide, these three; but the greatest of these is taunting. (wipes away a tear) Are these not the greatest words to taunt by ever written? (hushed silence from the gathered swine) I want our newer members to consider these words the next time they post. For taunting, as the Book of Peng tells us, is not playground boasting. It is not merely wins and losses. It is not genitalia. Taunting is the way, the path, the lie, and the glory. Now, all rise, and go to your duties. Bauhaus, remain seated. Oh, sorry, force of habit. Bauhaus, you may file out with the rest. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads. [This message has been edited by Seanachai (edited 11-15-2000).]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by rune: jdmorse dares to defy me? A mere evilness ....but do not fear...even now my demented horror that votes will need florida. so, tomorrow begins the formation of my dare to Mark IV. And others have played me long LONG; there was a "list". Dare not to mock me.... i just may give you a play thing... Rune Commander Army of the Porcupine<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Although Rune is deteriorating at the same rate as Mensch is improving, he really is a Knight. We wouldn't just give Knight status to any wanking beta tester that wandered in here. But by the same token, there are some, like Madmatt, that we wouldn't deny it too, not for any money (money don't do ya' no good, kid, when ya' look like an accordian). Not to mention that we actually really like Madmatt, and, in his own useless Illinois way, Rune. So, I challenge Morse's challenge. Rune also went head to head with Mark IV during the days of the original Peng Challenge Thread, so he has, in fact, fought within the Pool. The splashing ruined a pair of brushed suede black Timberlands I'd just bought. Miserable sods. ------------------ After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.