Seanachai

Umm... what exactly does that mean? Does this mean that I will finally be devoured by my own creation, and that no one on the Thread is ever again to acknowledge my existence? Do you mean that I'm supposed to magically internalize some form of 'Coventry' that will, under all possible conditions, including my being so drunk that I have to lie down on a stolen skateboard and scoot myself to the kitchen to get another beer because attempting to walk there would defy the very fabric of normality, lead me to never again post to the annoying creature known as 'Paul AU'? Bear with me a moment...I have to read that over again and see if it comes out to something like an English sentence... In any case, Joe...rumble of small wheels ratcheting over the irregularities in the hardwood floor...as I lie here on my back, looking at the crazy quilt cracks and patches in my ceiling, I think that what you are doing... fridge door opening ...Is that you are casting me out of the Thread of threads. There is, of course, no precedent. But that does not mean it cannot be done. Realistically, the casting out of an Olde One should not be possible to simply another, single Olde One. But I stand eternally ready to accept the judgement of my true peers. Should either Peng or Berli acquiesce in casting me out, I will go peacefully to that little portion of limbo that has long been prepared for me. Or, in keeping with the fact that we are a Thread where even the figures of our mythology are simply first amongst equals (not to mention the most demanding and arrogant), I will accept being sent to Coventry by a simple tallying of the lads. Or even two voices. I am getting old. Perhaps it is time for me to retire to that little patch of garden. Shuffling about in wellies and old clothes, mumbling to myself, chortling now and then, husking a bit of song, while I tend to the plants. Of course, it's December in Minnesota. There's a foot of snow outside, and the temperature hasn't gotten above 20 degrees in days. So I'll be retiring to a little 'Chia Garden'. The various Chia pets, the herb garden...the Chia celebrities... So, if you lend your voice to sending me into the senile retirement of 'Coventry' from this Thread, then be so gracious as to also send me a Chia pet. If you need my address for shipping purposes, apply to the Justicar. He knows where I am. My hairs are white, my back is bent...oh, ho! Is that a new frosting of chives I see on you, Chia Grammont? Let me get the small scissors...tonight, we will have an omelet, with cream cheese and fresh chives...

Oh, c'mon! This is almost exciting! It's been years since we had a banned arsewipe show up here to pursue some geeky form of vendetta!

Could be that MexiCanadian twit, though... He could manage bigger words and longer sentences than Gaylord...

Hmm, hmm, hmm...let's see... addresses the majority of his attacks to me... seemingly reads what I say to him only to look for something to hook his continued objections to, while showing no understanding of what I've actually said to him... Despite no supporting evidence given the nature of his posts, or my responses, endlessly pisses on about how I am controlling everyone else here, and every remark anyone else makes to him is a sign of Seanachai directed thuggery... Pretends in every post that he has absolutely no knowledge of who I am, or anything about me, ignoring the fairly basic data that are readily apparent in the posts of myself, and others... Also pretends to never having been here before, or having any familiarity with the Thread, yet ignores every effort to inform him about same (because he actually knows exactly what goes on here)... And keeps endlessly repeating 'BFC knows who I am', as if to say, 'BFC has banned me endlessly before, they simply haven't recognized that I'm back...' Oh, gosh! Gaylord, is that you?!

I'll start out: I'm working assiduously to keep this Thread alive simply to annoy. Not just you lot of tossers, but to annoy, continuously and forever, MrPeng. Because I love that bastard. Every day that he wakes up, I want him to think: That goddamn Thread is still out there. He's my Ahab. Call me Ishmael.

The year is ending. Another year of the Peng Challenge Thread. Time to assess. Here's our new home: I Love My Cigar

In keeping with the ideal that "I wouldn't belong to any club that would have me as a member", it's time for our annual Pledge Drive! That's right, all you useless shower of idjits from the Outerboards, it's your time to shine! Step up, step up, and be counted! Where have you all gone?! Where are you now? What are you touching, and why? What are you kissing, and when? We're moving right into the Holidays, don't you know, when posting from the usual gang of suspects slows down a bit. So, post away. Tell us what you think of the Peng Challenge Thread. Don't be shy! This is your chance. We're wrapping up the year. Another year of the longest running sodding Thread on the Combat Mission Forums. Time for everyone who hates it to weigh in with their hate. Time for those who love it tell us why they love it. Time for absent friends to chime in, for absent enemies to step in and cast fecal matter. There are rules, you know. Sod 'em! There are hierarchies, but they're in abeyance. Tell us what you really think. The Challenge, for this incarnation, is to tell us what you think of the Peng Challenge Thread. Justicar, it is Saturnalia! The usual rules of order do not apply. The only Challenge, during this period, is to the Peng Challenge Thread itself! So, if you come here, tell us what you think. We treasure every word from your lips, be it pearl or toad. Blooming rose or coffin nail. We breathlessly await your impressions.

I am filled with a Great Sadness. For today, I was informed that that most consummate of all humourists in the English Language, Terry Pratchett, has told the press that he's been diagnosed with a rare form of early onset Alzheimers. What a cruel blow to literature, and what a sad joke for Fate to play on a man of such invention, imagination, and wit. In his statement, he says: "Frankly, I would prefer it if people kept things cheerful, because I think there's time for at least a few more books yet. I know it's a very human thing to say 'Is there anything I can do,' but in this case I would only entertain offers from very high-end experts in brain chemistry." Not yet gone, and never to be forgotten.

Planchet Lars needs to put on a few pounds and Dalem is more Madam de Winter... </font>

You were here in Minnesota last week? </font>

You Aussie feck.

Maybe De Guiche...and even that is a huge stretch... It's good, though, that you've had something approaching a Classical education.

Oh, please. That would make you...my son. And a perfect, heroic nobleman. Wounded in love, and yet striving after a romantic ideal. Christ on a crutch, Stuka. I figure you for one of the more competent Cardinal's Guards. Someone with a lot of elan, but not a lot of brain. You know the sort: Gets all the women, but with no more sense of the bigger picture than a household pet.

Happy Solstice to you, Abbott!

And Joe Shaw. You are a natural born Rochefort. I'm comfortable with that.

Boo, that would make you Grimaud, rather than Planchet. I may have to trade you to Dalem. Perhaps we could dice for your identity...

I will humble myself to admit it, but the fact that I live in a town with at least 3 other Forum members, who are also members of the Peng Challenge Thread, has enriched my life. To Dalem, Lars and Papa Khann! The Minnesota Miscreants. Only in Minnesota would you have so many chances to interact directly with your fellow CMers. And only in Minnesota would they be so disparate, and yet so worthy. If I may liken them to another band, then let me characterize them thusly: Lars is Porthos. Papa Khann is Aramis. Dalem, is probably D'Artagnan. And I? I am Athos.

What? Tab of LSD today? </font>

Berli, when he came here to town, started singing in the middle of a suburban pub. Bold as you please, and without even doing a shoulder-grab, eye-to-eye to confirm that anyone else at the table would join in, or even knew the song. Bastard doesn't write poetry for ****e, of course. He doesn't want to. If he did, though, I'd be willing to bet it would be decent stuff. Kiplingesque, I'm thinking. 'Course, he's got a bit of the romantic about him, our Berli. Not so as you'd notice. But he's always been the perfect, parfait knight. Maybe some Tennyson. But he could never do Yeats. Berli's ancestors were russian. Bloody russians.

The gods see you, and they see the things you distill upon the folk. That was horrible. Not your worst effort, by any stretch, but that simply means no one with a weakened immune system ended up on plasma, and no pets were accidently neutered. You know, I have been to your house. I have drunk your rum/whiskey/beer/vodka/whatever and I have smoked your cigars. I have attempted, on numerous occassions, to teach you to sing. The way men sing. Songs robust with the foullness of being alive, and men, and having been with women, and yet still more horrible than can be described. It's almost like you can see it, leering at you out of the mist, but you still don't sing worth a tinker's damn (bloody pikeys!). Until you can learn to sing, you must not versify. For every true man must learn to sing, before he can write poetry. Until you have the courage to sing, how can you have the courage to look like someone who would write poetry?! And until you have the courage to look like someone who can write poetry, how can you write good poetry?

Jesus, Joe, are we paying you by the 'Coventry' these days?! That was fast up with it, to be sure. Shouldn't we at least let the halfwit attempt to respond to me first? No? Perhaps you're right. Of course, the Olde Ones can always respond, at any time, to anyone, for any reason, despite any ban. Yeah, I just made that up. But we have done it, which implies that we can do it. Or something. I just can't believe he's that clueless, to posture around like that. Makes me think he's another revenant.

And as for Paul AU? He's beginning to bore me. Perhaps we're just whiffling swords and failing to get a good 'clang' out of it, but I think he truly doesn't have a clue as to what goes on in here. Paul AU, no one gives a rat's arse that BFC knows who you are. We simply won't waste our time with people that we don't know who they are. There's no need to post your home address and given name, but we're not going to continue to piss about with someone who hasn't got enough hair to at least post an email address and some general idea of their inhabitance. We've seen plenty of 'internet anonymity' bravado on this forum. Right now, you look like another of those we've suffered through in the past, whose manhood is even smaller than their brains. Hell, I've posted my given name and home address on this board several times, when anyone's accused me of 'talking big from behind the mask'. And from that info anyone who wanted to could also get my home phone number. I'll post 'em again, if you like. And, yeah, I endured abusive emails and worse. In every case, it was from people that were so brave that they were just a screenname on the Board. But also, after I posted my home address, I got an incredible bounty of hatred! I got letters, cards and postcards filled with hate. I even got CDs filled with songs of hate! It was...magical. I take the album filled with them out, periodically, and look through them. I'm trying to come up with a way to mount them all in the living room. It's a great bunch of guys that post here on this Board. I asked them for their hate, and they nearly made me cry with happiness over how much they hated me. Some of them hate me so much they've actually come to my home to visit me. Some of them hated me so much they've had me to their home for a visit. You can't buy hate like that, Paul AU. You have to earn it. For myself, right now, I repeat what I said before: You are boring. If you're too brave to post an email address and a general location (which, quite frankly, is no more than a form of 'anteing up' in this place), and you continue to strut around being dull and self-important, than coventry seems the right call.

As the gods are my witness, Dalem, you have been repeatedly warned about your versifications. Do the right thing, and drink until you're a puddle on your couch, rather than inflict the horror of your verses upon the yet unsuspecting world. Consider the Season, you horrible little man.

[total amazement] You've given up drinking? [/total amazement] Michael </font>

to be stomped on, abused, belittled and generally taken the piss out of.....and don't you love it! </font>