Seanachai

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by PawBroon: That some of you could call him Evil is beyond me. He is not evil, but rather pathetically amusing. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> PawBroon, my Mad Froggie friend, Berli is not Evil because of his win/loss record, not Evil because of his manner of play, Berli is Evil by Nature. Now in my third battle against Berli, I've realized a real thing. Berli has played so much that any game he gives, any setup he takes, any choice he makes (no, goddamn it, this is not a song by Sting), is because: 1)It interests him. 2)It amuses him. 3)He has certain...theories, or qualities he wishes to evaluate. The Evil Daft Bugger has never played me in anything like a 'normal' setup, where tactical ability would pound the newbie into the f'ing ground. He's always chosen to do what he Wishes to do, and winning actually seems to be secondary. Not unimportant, just not as important as Berli's other, unspecified agenda. Oh, and although he seems to regard Peng as 'Pond Scum', he seems to regard Peng as 'More Significant Pond Scum Than the Lifeforms I Haven't Yet Experimented On'. Peng, of course, constantly warns me that Berli is Evil, Vile, and Not To Be Trusted. It seems to be a kind of Anti-Symbiosis relationship that is every bit as binding as the other sort. ------------------ 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 rune: I expect an email on your opinion of the battle afterwards. [Glares at two others he has yet to hear from] American vs Germans and bocage is all I will hint at. More details for the first two to agree to play. That is all.... Rune Commander Army of the Porcupine<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> You are doubtless glaring at Peng and I. That scenario is so full of carnage that it has taken away both of our wills to live. Playing it has made Peng despondent, and has given me a morally questionable attitude towards the sanctity of life. We will do what we can. ------------------ 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: And Seanachai... I understand your time is limited but I DON'T WANNA FREAKIN' DIE before I get your next turn so please be considerate and send that out right away. Thanks. Jeff<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Shandorf, my beady-eyed victim in training, your turn will be out to you this evening, as soon as you crawl out of Plymouth (doubtless with a relieved shudder) and crawl home to BP (with a distressed shudder), it will be there. Also Chrisl and Morse, I have turns for you, as well. Turns for all! American turns, French turns, German turns, Turns done to a turn, Ahhahahhaha! Even turns for the vile ianc and Moriarity! Generosity and gentility runs off me like foam from the mouth of a mad dog! There, now I'm thinking of Meeks again! He should at least show up to do AARs, don't you think? Now, everyone sit tight, and your turns will reach you this very evening. ------------------ 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.

Sigh. I miss the squeaking and gibbering. I miss the lunatic posturing and rants that reeked of mental instability. I miss the satisfying 'thunk' of the Brick going home. MEEKS, FORSAKE THY OPPOSITION AND AMBITION, RETURN YOUR FEALTY TO THE THREAD, AND POST AGAIN! A single, lucent tear drops on to the unused and slightly crumbling Brick... ------------------ 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: which take advantage of my fancy hardware, really improve my gameplay. Kudos to all you guys and keep up the good work. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Direct Divine intervention wouldn't improve you game play, Meeks. However, thanks to all the Mod makers feeding Meeks' delusions. ------------------ 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.

Ahem. As difficult as it is for the lay-person (Sit down, Bauhaus!) to believe, we are a self-regulating Thread. Far be it from me, who has 'Lost to Peng' to caution another soul, but even here, amid the lovely, dark, noisome plish-plash of happy rats, we should practice a modicum of restraint, lest we go too far over the top. After all, we are not merely worse than all other threads, we are also better. ------------------ 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 Elvis: 1st defeat since August....Just lost to Peng......I am humbled <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Humbled? You little toilet bowl brush, you should stand up on your hind legs and proclaim his majesty. Peng is Risen, Proclaim It! ------------------ 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 Mark IV: Here's a quick note to let you pathetic vermin know that I am watching from afar. Another week or two of traveler's purgatory, and then I am going to kill you all.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Well, good then. Mark IV will return. <BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>I have only caught up with about half this drivel, as I was truly in the wilderness amid the bears and coyotes, literally living on roadkill (which may explain the recent absence of certain regular contributors)<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> And we weren't in the wilderness? God bless the bears and coyotes, I say. They might have had something to contribute. On that other note about roadkill...Shaw? Shaw?! Good, Christ, has anyone else seen Shaw?!! <BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>I just wanted to share some general ugliness with people who would understand. The closest thing I've seen to a decent explosion in 2 weeks was an attempt to light a campfire with Coleman fuel.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> I used to have a buddy who'd start up a Weber grill with white gas. He'd light an entire book of matches and pitch it into the grill from about 10 feet away. We'd cook with whatever coals were left after the explosion. <BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>and damn the rest of you for forgetting me so quickly. I shall return. It won't be pretty.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Some have not forgotten. When you return, send me a setup. ------------------ 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.

Well, well. Indeed, and again, well, well. Just a word, perhaps, or mayhap more than one, to my very dear chums ianc and Moriarity. These opponents, fine members of their communities, I am sure, were recently defeated by myself in PBEM. Ianc, who originally posted here (I believe before P1K) and does not presently post here, but who I will force, now, to check in so that he can see what new abuse I have heaped upon him, barely squeaked out a defeat in our last game. Moriarity was defeated more soundly, after a very good game in which he fought the good fight, but terrain, and, of course, all the gods, were against him. Both these, by courtesy and courtesy alone, Gentlemen, have engaged me in rematches. Ianc claimed that the game went on so long, and so evenly, that being subjected to my wonderfully witty and literate emails finally found him shooting his own troops in an attempt to end the game. Moriarity used as his defense the fact that having to work in the same building with Bauhaus so disturbed him that he found concentration all but impossible, and sometimes spent hours a night watching the local aviation/weather map reportage channel. So, as a Sportsman and all round Good Egg, I gave each of them another PBEM slot in my busy round of putting mere mortals in touch with humility (nothing like a loss to the man who 'Lost to Peng' to cast down the arrogant, and rehabilitate the sullied honour of Peng). And so, I received their setups. Where shall I start? Why not with ianc. Ianc. Dear ianc (are you related to chrisl?) What kind of traumatic childhood experience leads someone into such a complete loss of imagination, pride, and self-image that when asked to choose a name, they use first name last initial all in lowercase? I imagine it was a case of having your father come into your rooms late at night, seat himself on a chair, and begin whispering lies into the ears of the supposedly sleeping tykes. In any case, ianc, I received the setup. Yes, in a Combined Arms operation, having given me the Germans to play with their vehicle heavy table of organization, I opened your setup to discover we were playing on a rural, significant, no, make that 'total' tree coverage, major hills. When the file finished loading, and the map opened before me, my first thought was: My goodness, isn't that Julie sodding Andrews in a nun's habit singing her guts out over there on that alp? My second thought was: Well, we'll never know, now will we, because there's no way any of my troops will ever reach a point where they can see the silly cow through all these fornicating trees, now will they?! As I began to set up my units with an eye to maneuver, I couldn't help but notice that the few trails where I might have hoped to maneuver a vehicle of any sort, including an ATV, were already blocked with the bones of goats that had gotten wedged trying to proceed forward and were unable to either advance or retreat. Many thanks for this wonderful tour of 'The Hills are Alive, With the Sound of Impassible Terrain'. And Moriarity, my chum. I'm so very sorry it's taken me so long to return my troop setup to you. Most of the delay has been caused by the fact that I can't find the bleeding map, let alone my own units. I finally had to turn weather off just to get a sense of what I was attacking. Intriguing terrain. Not that it matters a ****e, since none of our forces will ever see any of it, including the portions that rise up to smack them in the face as they die. I worried less about a good tactical setup than I did about keeping my units close enough to each other so they don't continuously shoot each other by mistake. You lunatic sod, do you realize I purchased units that can't even open fire without injuring themselves? That your setup giving us 'high' quality units is about as useful as giving dead people 'The Best in Health Care?' My ultra-elite troops, the twelve of them not armed with frigging weapons completely useless in the environment you've chosen for us to fight in, will now creep forward to bite your sodding ankles, which is the first, and very likely only, portion of your bastards that we will ever see. Next time, please let me know that my mortars will be only useful as awkward clubs, that any vehicle other than a Flame Carrier will be useless, and that, in fact, any weapon of a greater range and usefulness than a butterfly knife will be completely pointless. How nice for you to get your revenge in the dark and fog. You rotter. Now, let me just say that Hiram, I hope you never take the path, as my Squire, that these two recreants have chosen. Take the High Road, lad. And, once you're on it, pick up really big, jagged rocks and cast them down on the heads of your enemies. The bastards. More invective coming soon. I'm unhappy with all sorts of useless swine. ------------------ 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 Germanboy: Senilitylosttopeng: Chicken chicken... So are you going to fight or try to paper over your incapability to beat Squeals, the shismatic heretic? <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> You low and vulgar fellow. Pederasts have more to offer society than you do. I hope you realize that the setup you sent me to battle Meeks on has taken away all desire to struggle. I sent my first move on to Meeks, but I moved all my units haphazardly; I just couldn't work up any interest in attempting strategy or tactics with a circus full of mimes, jugglers, and dancing bears. I've offered to make up my differences with Meeks because the setup inflicted on us by you and Berli has led me to question who my enemies truly are. He must seriously be considering my offer, because I haven't had a return yet. Either that, or his sister has moved to stage two of her plan to destroy him... ------------------ 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 Stuka: Yes Von Shrad you do have to beg... Now roll on your back with your paws in the air....... Thats right, now keep your tail wagging..... Theres a good boy. [This message has been edited by Stuka (edited 10-22-2000).]<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Seanachai, while viewing Stuka rubbing von schrads' tummy: Er, should we be seeing this? I'm all for kindness to animals, but do what PeterNZ does, and take it into the privacy of a shearing pen or something, you two. Von Schrad, stop playing around, pick out someone you want a game against, and torment them with taunts and personal abuse until they send you a setup. ------------------ 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: I'm sorry, this ...er...term Cannonball escapes me. Is this some sort of bathtub brew or a prison 'Hooch' recipe? 2 weeks serving of fruit cocktail 4 slices of bread from yesterdays bologna sandwiches 2 tablespoons of contraband sugar In slightly rinsed out shampoo bottle add fruit and any other fruit-like ingredients. Slowly crumble bread into container while being careful to sift out any mouse droppings. Add sugar clots Shake vigorously and let mature 3-5 <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Let me just say how happy I am that von schrad is here (you git). May I just point out that his recipe actually works, so I imagine he wasn't driving that SUV racing back to the suburbs, he was dancing around under the highway overpass with a bottle of white port raised over his head shouting 'Shaw, Shaw! Come out, the Yuppies are gone! We've still got half a litre!" And, finally, may I just say how nice it is to see jailhouse alchemists beginning to frequent the Cesspool in between arraignments. ------------------ 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.

Alright, I've begun the Holy Cleansing, the struggle ordained by Powers beyond that of the merely mortal for who shall control, determine, and name the Peng, I Take Our Challenge Public, aka Cesspool, thread, and to whom all glory shall accrue. I have this very evening sent the vile, treacherous, and heretical Meeks a turn that shall... Okay, crap, I can't even go on. That isn't a setup that Berli and Andreas sent us, it's a bloody public humiliation and display of ill humour. First Berli sends us the most nightmarish map outside the St. Paul street system, then Andreas assigns us a gang of joke units that seem to be evenly distributed around the map in some kind of unnatural 'starfish' pattern. Your setup wasn't quite airtight, Andreas, as when I got set to do my first turn, I actually had a line of sight to an 'APC?' just barely visible through the driving rain. I look over, and imagine my horror when I see Meeks himself is sitting in it drinking from a paper bag and flipping me off. I imagine there will have to be reinforcements in this 'Let's Use the Opportunity of the Peng Thread Schism to Jerk Seanachai and Meeks Around Because We Can' battle, because right now there are about as many VLs on the map as I have units. I have sent my first movement turn over to Meeks, along with an offer to make up our differences, declare ourselves joint Emperors for life, appoint a board of Cardinals to resolve any difficulties between the 'Peng rite' and the 'Cesspool rite', I will declare myself the Holy Peng Thread Emperor, and Meeks the Patriarch of the Byzantine Cesspool. This is easier for me to contemplate for two reasons: 1. That hideous, abusive piece of ****e setup delivered to us by Berli/Germanboy. Making setups to annoy and humiliate Squires is one thing, tormenting belted Knights (or at least, Knights not above taking a belt) is another. 2. Meeks's most recent major opus...well, I was proud. I think, perhaps, we've hit just the right harmonic between Brick use and Meeks's native, unnatural, and thorough-going insanity to achieve a rather nice melange of pithy gibberish, humour, and weirdness. Only time will tell how things will shake out. Since the very earliest days of this Thread, and the beginnings of the Order of the Knights of the Cesspool, there have been only a few Masters of the Order. Peng, of course, without whom "None of This Would Have Been Necessary". Berli (try and keep the Evil Swine out; he shows up in your dreams and does things to your pets). And, of course, there have always been senior Knights, those feared in combat, like Mark IV, Germanboy, Geier. Now, we have to deal with Meeks. Bardic, in his own spittle streaked way, and he seems to be kicking a certain amount of arse, making him a force (hey, am I the only person who's played Meeks and been confused by his very strange style of play? I mean, we had an infantry battle, and the f'ing lunatic packed in infantry, nothing but infantry, all the goddamn infantry he could buy, with little or no support units, no artillery, and when I'd exhausted my resources in trying to disperse him, did a Russian wave assault on me that finally overran me, partly because I couldn't believe that after winning for 2/3s of the game that he had the resources to swamp my defenders, and I made the mistake of going on the offensive. Crazy bastard.) Anyway, the "Peng, I am Still Taking Our Bloody Challenge Public", aka "The Cesspool", aka "It's a Mutha Beautiful Thread, and It's Going to Be There", Thread, has gone to combat. This schism must be resolved. But know this, oh Knights. On the night before this combat began, I had a dream. And Chuck Brodsky appeared in the dream, and held up a picture that he told me was of Meeks's sister, and, strumming a rather nice accoustic guitar, he sang: We kill for our gods- we wage holy wars Assasinate presidents- and burn down bookstores Massacre children to settle old scores Yelling, "Our gods are great!" Our gods must be proud- of the blood on our hands And the way we go conquering- far away lands In the names of our gods- may the glory be theirs Let the spoils & the plunders be ours So, Meeks. What shall it be? A serious rasberry blown at Berli and Andreas, Patriarch of the Eastern/Byzantine Cesspool rite, or bloody and humorous combat? ------------------ 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 Moriarty: Aye, you're probably right there. Meeks' brick is a nearly sacred thing. How about that ol' barn scoop out back. Prang 'im a coupla times in the head and then reach through his eyes and grab his entrails. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Now you're thinkin', lad! You mean the one we used to shovel dung into the new 'Pool? The very thing! Probably best to just ignore him, though. This is especially easy in his case, as he was more unbelievably soddingly boring than any crank we've had stop by. ------------------ 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 Moriarty: Squire Croda I merely put that out for your consideration. If you should so choose to hang him with his own entrails, make liberal use of Meeks' brick on his head and neck and access said entrails via the eye sockets. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Here, we're not using Meeks's brick for a little pile of dung like that. That brick has a history, lad. It's seen some serious useage against entertaining madness. Why dishonour it by taking it to the skull of boring lowlifes? And Moriarity, you tit, where's my turn? You said you were having trouble getting it back to me, not that you'd entrusted it to Bauhaus for delivery. ------------------ 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 10-21-2000).]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by chrisl: I'm not that sort of a doctor.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Oh, yes, so many of them say that nowadays. <BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR> You ought to try reading profiles occasionally. Rather than blathering on about how you would love to be an Irish-French-Canadian, swilling beer, chopping trees, and trapping furry little animals in the woods of Kay-bek. I can imagine you now, in one of those throaty Quebecois growls: "You 'amsters, you are de worst 'amsters in de world. I 'ate you all". Yet at the same time, you put on an english personality as well. Are you preparing to secede from yourself?<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Ah, I see you're a physicist! Does that mean you have to be paid overtime from a grant of public funds to try and focus in on the Real World, you posturing lunatic? Not that there's anything wrong with that; no, of course not! <BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR> I was at 16th and Park. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Well, so you've already paid a portion of your bill. <BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR> Some time tomorrow night. Any particular terms?<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> I prefer to play Commonwealth troops, but will play either side; a PBEM in the 1,000-1,500 range. ------------------ 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 Mother Theresa: Viva la Minnesota!!!, eh. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Ah, now they show up. Okay, Shandorf, here's another...er...of us...of...who in hell are you, anyway? All are welcome here (well, all who've the stomach to stay), but we need more than that before we're going for a beer with you, laddy...lady?...whatever. That's crust, that is, taking on the name of a soon to be Saint. Mind, it's somewhat weird crust on a thread devoted to combat, but mayhap a bit over the top, nevertheless. ------------------ 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: Check your mailbox cretin, I sent it before my last post. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Milady, may I just say how proud I am to bend knee before you, and enter in to a noble contest of wits between us. SOD OFF, YOU USELESS PECKERHEADS, I'M TRYING TO SHOW YOU HOW A PACK OF RATHOUNDS LIKE YOURSELF MIGHT APPROACH A TRUE KNIGHTLY CONFLICT AGAINST A LADY, UNLIKE THE UNSEEMLY BLEATING, POSTURING-ON-TOE-TIP, AND THINGY-GRABBING THAT WE'VE ALL BEEN SUBJECTED TO LATELY! I received your setup in my email, but did not recognize the address of the sender, and so did not realize it was your own fair self. THAT'S HOW SOMEONE WHO ISN'T SO FAR GONE INTO TESTOSTERONE POISONING THAT 'JOKES ABOUT SEX WITH RELATIVES' SEEMS FUNNY SPEAKS WHEN ADDRESSING AN HONOURABLE OPPONENT, YOU GANG OF NEWBIE NITS! Now, should our conflict prove intriguing to you, and full of pith and marrow, I hope that you might reconsider your desire to merely lurk here, in this admittedly vile environment, and prove a true knight, and stride forth to enlighten the heathen in combats of wisdom and justice. THAT MEANS, YOU GANG OF CHIMPANZEES, THAT I HOPE YK2 MIGHT IGNORE ALL THE LAME REMARKS AND PAUNCH & GROIN SCRATCHING LONG ENOUGH TO CONSIDER TAKING THIS GAME AS A SERIOUS FORM OF INTELLECTUAL ENGAGEMENT, UNLIKE THE PLASTIC CUP COMPARISONS OF COLLECTED DROOL THAT ARE BEING PASSED OFF AS WIT AND STRATEGY LATELY! YK2, I hope that our forthcoming battle shall enlighten and enrich both our lives, and I anticipate Stomping you into the Mud Utterly, and forcing your troops to worship me as the God of All Punishment, and make them bend the knee and weep petitions of utter abasement in the hopes of avoiding a more thorough brutalization of their very being. Bar that, I hope to avoid you making me put on anything pink and singing songs in praise of your troops. But, hell, isn't everyone up for a bit of a sing-song? NOT YOU LOT, YOU USELESS, DEGRADED, UNSHAVEN AND FOUL-SMELLING EXAMPLES OF WHY THE POLICE PERIODICALLY ROUND-UP EVERYONE LIVING UNDER HIGHWAY OVERPASSES! YOU MAKE ME PUKE! YOU'RE ALL HORRID LITTLE MEN, AND I CAN'T THINK WHY ANYONE EVER THOUGHT YOU COULD BE BROUGHT ON AS DEFENDERS OF THE REALM! Now, YK2, I accept your challenge, and you shall recieve my return file later in what is now a very early morning. THE REST OF YOU LOT OF HOPELESS WANKS SHOULD TAKE AT LEAST SOME NOTICE OF HOW AN ACTUAL WARRIOR, RATHER THAN A SEWAGE CONTROL OFFICER, DEALS WITH AN OPPONENT, AND HUSTLE ABOUT TO KISS MY NETHER BITS IN APPRECIATION OF A LESSON THAT'S COST YOU NOTHING EXCEPT THE EMBARRESMENT OF HAVING TO DWELL ON YOUR OWN PAST POSTINGS IN AN HIGHLY UNCOMPLIMENTARY WAY. ROIGHT, THEN! YK2, my soon to be defeated suppliant, pray to the Goddess for guidance in this, our conflict, and make further prayer that YOU NEVER END UP ON THE RECEIVING END OF AN ALL CAPITALS ASSESSMENT OF THE USELESS SACS OF PUS, AND PECULIARLY PUNGENT, YET IMPOTENT PUS, THAT MOST OF THIS THREADS POSTERS ACHIEVE. I look forward to our game. ------------------ 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 Roborat: Damn, it's still there. I notice hamsters managed to crawl out from under his rock for a few minutes, appears to have gotten into those mushrooms again, wasn't somebody supposed to be watching him. Good to see he is still alive, in body anyway. I salute you, my sponsor (inserts thumb firmly up nose and wiggles fingers) <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Oh, no, it's quite alright, Meeks is here for our combat as to who will lead the Brotherhood into the next 3K posts of filth, weirdness, gibberish, boasting, literary references, madness, awkward excuses, mendacity, Losing to Peng, abuse, invective, bouts of Pure Evil, and sing-songs. Whoever wins, I insist upon the sing-songs. I've just this evening sent him the file for our Knightly combat to decide whether I get to stand in the rain, bellowing laughter while holding the unchewed portions of his liver over my head while singing Kurt Weil and Gilbert&Sullivan songs and doing the Underpants Dance (which resembles the Scottish 'sword dance', in that it's a complicated, syncopated, and agile dance performed to the music of the pipes with the variation that it's done while wearing your underpants on your head; in the more expert mode, it's done with the underpants pulled down over your eyes), or he gets to say: hey, I win, give me your allegiance or die. And on that note, let me just say, whoever wins, it is apparently The Peng's Birthday (or it was when I was last somewhat in charge of anything this last evening). And so I sing: Ya te puckety ring ting fatoo Ni Ni Ni! Yarroo! Happy Birthday, Peng, without whom None of This would have been Necessary (and Jesus to Jesus and Eight Hands Around, Peng, the whole bleeding edifice has been Immense, Bizarre, and has already Suffered Resurrections! A Testimonial, Dear Friends!) Oh, alright, Peng, give me that pen. Now, where does Berli, good old Satan Hellspawn, want me to sign? ------------------ 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 The Cheesehead who pretends he's a minnesotan who wants to be canadian<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Sigh. This should read: the Minnesotan (proud furbearers of the North), who spent a brief time as a Cheesehead (read: Wisconsinite, Biggest Drunkards of the Entire Upper Midwest; Two Bars for Every Church, and Three for Every Inhabitant), who's love for the Canadian border country is deep and abiding, and stems from his happy childhood/lifelong visits, combined with his many visits to Winnipeg for their Folk Fesitval, not to mention never having met a Canadian he couldn't at least put up with for 3 beers; and should also have included: who talks/writes like a Brit for no apparent reason at all that is reasonably apparent to aberrations like yourself. Must I do/define everything myself?! <BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR> I went to Evil Doctor School in Minnesota (lived on the edge of downtown Mpls the whole time), but if you called me a minnesotan I'd probably have to crush you in a game with mostly mech troops (representative of my current place of residence).<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Well, does that mean that you're actually a Doctor? You know, the form of life that is the natural prey of, and just below Lawyers on the acceptability/food chain scale? I live in South Minneapolis, around 38th & Grand, just to give you perspective. <BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>You sure have a big mouth for a Minnesotan-- musta been too much time at the U. I'm also a bit surprised that you haven't been demanding a scandinavian mod-- your troops could say things like "Sven- got any more of that lutefisk", or "Sure looks like snow, Ole" And all the tanks would have rusted off bumpers held on with string. I suppose with it nearing halloween you're about due for a ton of snow...<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> I attended, actually, Carleton College in Northfield, Minnesota. And I have, in fact, one of the most loquacious personalties to be found in this entire jaw-clenched-head-bobbing-nostril-flaring-one-eyebrow-raised-as-a-form-of-extroverted-communication-community that you could ever hope to find, you nasty, sodding, 'I went there for an edication and came away every bit as ignorant as the average daytime television viewer' first-name-with-initial-using piece of intestinal blockage, Hmmmm? Send me a setup, you fur nuzzling, 'George, tell me about the hamsters?' 'Chrisl, I already told you about the hamsters' half-witted, don't-my-hands-look-interesting-when-I-do- this-but-mother-why-should-I-stop-when-the-results-are-so-much-more-interesting-than-anything-I-could -ever-accomplish-in-any-other-way piece of ****e. Now, who's for a bit of a sing-song? ------------------ Slayer of the Original Cesspool 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. [This message has been edited by Seanachai (edited 10-20-2000).] [This message has been edited by Seanachai (edited 10-20-2000).]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by YK2: Time for me to bow out and do what I do best. Back to lurking mode for me. Cya all in Hell someday... <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Oh, bugger, now look what you lot have done. I thought YK2 gave the place some tone. Never even got a game from her. Oh, well, maybe she'll return. Now, that aside, I'd like to see a little less about 'thingies', for that matter. Some of you people are beginning to make Bauhaus look like the Bard of Avon, for the gods' sake. Let us get a grip on something other than ourselves, shall we? ------------------ 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: Hey! What Cesspooligans other than Seanachai and myself are from the Twin Cities in Minnesota? I was thinking we could swap insults and looks of boredom over a few cheap beers somewhere. Speak if you dare! Jeff<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Oops, missed this post earlier while trying to read the Thread at work while attempting to look like I was doing something significant and appropriate (like unclog a toilet) with another fine Microsoft product. I don't think there are any other Cesspool Minnesotans, they are all either foreigners or lesser americans. I wouldn't mind staring into the demented, beady eyes of another Cesspooler (I prefer it through a x10 scope, even over beers, but it does kill conversation, as it were), and as a fellow Minnesotan I suppose our esprit requires a game, so send me a setup. I prefer Commonwealth troops, but will play any side, 1,000-1,500 points, and I believe we should forego snow, as we will be arse deep in that any time now, as it is. ------------------ 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 Lorak: ahh, another loss for the Lorak. to...Seanachai. What can I say? He promised me my Chinchilla teams! What did I get?! A damn flock of seagulls! And they ran, the ran so far away. They just ran, they could not get away, couldn't get away. Lorak the loathed <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> True, and it's apparently having deletarious effects on you. Lorak's troops, as we all know, had come to the peaceful little valley where our combat took place to visit a small wood in the center of the map, there to erect a brass plaque to the effect that Erwin Rommel had once pulled off the road there and took a pee (given how far the Feld Marshall had strolled off into the woods, I'm thinking there might have been more to it than that). Anyway, vowing to resist any such 'evil German' business, my brave Brits secured the forest, in a few short turns blew up all of Lorak's various HT (this was a 'Mechanized' only battle), and then rather light-heartedly butchered his troops who attempted to make a series of rather odd rushes on the VLs. Lorak then withdrew, apparently to brood, become more manic, and move heavily into his 'Loathed' mode, then, when my boys had become some what bored and gone poking around in the bushes to see what had become of him and invite his lads to give up the plaque willingly and join them for a bit of a sing-song, he rushed forth like a rabid weasel and began tearing at everything in sight. Finally, his ammunition exhausted and despondent over the apparent loss of the plaque they had come there to put up, he surrendered, giving my boys a Major Allied victory. Right now I have my lads all singing the Captain's song from HMS Pinafore while prodding his sullen and surrendered troops through the underbrush searching for the lost plaque, which will then grace my offices as a legitimate trophy of war. Chupacabra, you're quite wrong to loathe Gilbert and Sullivan, as they are most amusing. In fact, I may be forced to do a Musical Comedy version of the Cesspool. I think it's a natural for such treatment, actually. Good on you, Roborat, for using G&S, and shame on me for not recognizing it. ------------------ 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 bauhaus: Or you could become a couple, have 1.5 children, live in a suburb, drive a blazer and live happily ever after. Love is in the air. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Huh, if we did, Bauhaus you wretch, you'd be the .5 child. ------------------ 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 Roborat: Hey SenileGuy, I think you lot may have scared rainpoet away. A gentle soul like that cannot handle such mean talk. As for Fatbovine, he is probably out molesting moose, or mice, depending on member size, it's what those east coasters do for entertainment. I found a new sig, what do you think?? <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> I was as courteous to Rainpoet as anyone is ever going to get in this place. I hate it when they mistake the vicious, ironic tone of this place and scurry away. Ah, well, wasn't the first, won't be the last. And sometimes they go off, think about it, and come back spewing. Nice sig, who's the attribution? Patboivin! Patboivin! All, all, in are Squires! ------------------ 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.