Seanachai

Ah, the populace of that Little Island. Eternally feisty in their unrelenting efforts to construct a palace of imagined superiority from a pile of straw and sticks. What was it William Burroughs said? "The English will never go into space. If they landed on the surface of another planet, the first thing they'd do is look around for someone to exclude."

Right then! I've got you on an 11.05am Flight out of StPaul on Lufthansa #9097 (its 1st class I hope thats OK), connecting at O'Hare Intl with Lufthansa #431 arriving Frankfurt 6.20am. You get 9 hours in Frankfurt so try not to get yourself arrested 'cruising' the reeperbahn area, then its a Qatar Airways flight 2434 departing 3.30pm arriving Doha Intl 10.35pm. That should get you into a cab and at my place by about 11.15pm which means you'll catch the end of the bog dancing but be in plenty of time for the bottle throwing. Don't worry about a visa, you can get one on arrival and just ask the cabbie for 'Beverly Hills Tower' in West Bay, they'll all know where that is. You can't bring booze in so I'll have to let you drink mine you cheap bastard. So thats it then, all sorted, see you tomorrow night! PS. there is a chance the check-in chick might want $10768 off you before boarding.... </font>

Sigh. Fecking Texans. I owe, I owe, so off to play I go...

Dammit you're right! And to prove it, I have my annual birthing ceremony tomorrow. There will be a christening of my new BBQ (a gift from the lovely lady Stuka, right NGCavscout?)on the balcony of our apartment starting around 7pm and I'd like you to attend Seanachai. There will be booze, steak and sausages but no pork (guess that counts Peng out) as this is the middle east of course, followed by Irish bog dancing down on the pool floor and a good old 'Aussie see how far you can throw your beer bottle from the roof' competition up on the 29th floor. Oh and its BYO pointy hat... </font>

Ah, the jolly singsong. Is any other bugger so responsible for knowing you lot? Its a beggars life, said the Queen of Spain But dont tell it to a poor man 'Cause he's got to kill for every thrill The best he can Everywhere around me I see jealousy and mayhem Because no men have all their peace of mind To carry them Well I dont really care If it's wrong or if it's right But until my ship comes in I'll live night by night When the joker tried to tell me I could cut it in this rube town When he tried to hang that sign on me I said take it down When the dawn patrol got to tell you twice They're gonna do it with a shotgun Yes, Im cashing in this ten-cent life For another one Well I ain't got the heart To lose another fight So until my ship comes in I'll live night by night Well I don't really care If it's wrong or if it's right But until my ship comes in I'll live night by night Night By Night - Steely Dan

The last refuge of the overpaid, homeless lawyer. Seeking comfort in the arms of paid professionals... Pretty much explains the Republican Party.

When we want you to defend one of ours we'll give you a squeeze. The squeaky noise is eternally amusing. Until then, his arse is ours. And he will answer to Us.

You're not fooling anyone, Stuka. You're getting old. You couldn't handle more than 3 of them in an entire night, and the only way we'd have to go away for an hour is if you were working your arse off to push your last steak dinner through your colon. But it's cute that you're still standing on 'Mount Stuka' with your pants around your ankles and posturing. I mean, how many failed marriages/relationships have we been witness to here?

Sir Sir Real (soon not to be bolded at all, at all), you have been called to task. You must answer charges before the Olde Ones. You know where to go.

Yes, yes, we've all had to avert our eyes at your self-absorbed little gandy-dance on the Forum. Will you continue to actually post photos and insist that we look at the contents of the plastic cup in the future, or will we be able to mercifully draw a veil over the annoying images that your posts insist we look at? </font>

Yes, yes, we've all had to avert our eyes at your self-absorbed little gandy-dance on the Forum. Will you continue to actually post photos and insist that we look at the contents of the plastic cup in the future, or will we be able to mercifully draw a veil over the annoying images that your posts insist we look at?

To those who possess it, it is precious gift. To those who understand it, it is a beacon when the darkness of stupidity encroaches upon life. To those who will never possess it, and who are too stupid to understand and appreciate it, it is a bitter resentment which cannot be dismissed too brutally. You dismissed it with only a modicum of bitterness. I figure you for someone who's mainly not good at it.

Oh, deary, deary me. Two years ago I said she was two. She will be four years old on July 31st. Because I hate you, by which I also mean that I respect you, I'll give you a choice: Do you want me to characterize your remark as the result of stupidity, dementia, or chemical abuse? Your choice. Go crazy, eh? You deserve it. [ July 18, 2007, 07:30 PM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

Joe, you unworthy vessel of my trust. I had, whether your aging mind can grasp it, already read both Peng and Berli's remarks. Not that I really need to. The truth is, Joe, that I am so completely in communion with the other two Olde Ones that I often know what they are thinking before it has been voiced. This is easy enough with Berli, of course, as it primarily involves the complete physical, mental and emotional dismissal and destruction of everything else that Berli does not approve of, which is pretty much everything except probably Peng, a handful of authors, and beets. But I also sometimes find my self puzzling over the best roster for a girl's soccer team, and I'm almost sure that's coming from Peng, or possibly Stuka, but most likely Peng because there's no pornography or grandiloquent self-delusions of potency involved. You see, Joe, the great thing about being an Olde One is that we have no leaders, we are all simply first amongst equals. Rather like the Vikings and other psychotics who could invest heavily in the concept of individual rights and self empowerment because everyone was so heavily armed and apt to violence that anyone who tried to lord it over everyone else was looking for an axe stroke up the arse. So, while what the other two had to say certainly matters to me, it had absolutely no freaking effect on whatever I decided to froth out that evening. I'm not a fecking Greek Chorus, I'm an Olde One of the Peng Challenge Thread. We could do with a lot more of that attitude, frankly. Unless, of course, people are actually delusional enough to think that they are an Olde One of the Peng Challenge Thread, because there's only three of us and we are quite adequately, in our own ways, performing that function. We are your Ancestors. Capital 'A', rather than the small 'a' ancestors that bequeathed to you your rather disappointing genetic legacy, for which they are most probably heartily sorry, in whatever dull limbo their souls have been sent to to 'think things over'. We haven't gone off to some ridiculous fairy kingdom 'heaven'. We exist within the Wasteland, the emptiness that fills up all the spaces between the posts of you, the Folk. The Nothingness that precedes their posts, and awaits the end of their posting. We are eternal, and beyond you, and yet we post amongst you. I was reading a bit ago some gibberish by the various Outerboarders once again discussing the Peng Challenge Thread. The usual jibes and insults, dismissals and cattiness. But remember this, you lot, about the Outerboarders. Their Names do not live on after them. When they are gone, they are dust, and they leave no legacy. No one remembers them. No one preserves them. No one offers a good goddamn to their putative memories. They are devoured by Entropy. And no one cares. But here, in the Peng Challenge Thread, the World is a long, tangled, many branching tale. A tale told by an idjit, perhaps, but a tale, so far, without an end. How many have suddenly returned to us, and found their gibberish still fresh upon the walls of the cave? The only hope for the Outerboarders, the only way they can weasel their way out of the gray entropy of the Wasteland, is by posting or being noticed here. The Peng Challenge Thread. That is why they skulk in from stage left, and exit with curses stage right. That is why they want to attract the attention of the longest, strangest, stupidest Thread on the Combat Mission forum. Some for their contributions, and some for their disapproval. We are Altamira. We are the Dreamtime. Before the fall when they wrote it on the wall When there wasn't even any Hollywood They heard the call And they wrote it on the wall For you and me we understood -Steely Dan

I post more by 2 AM than you lot think of in an entire week of shameful existence.

And Dalem is thinking: I feel the words building inside me, I can't stop them, or tell you why I say them, but as I reach the top of the bridge these words come to me in a whisper. I say these words as a prayer, as regret, as praise, I say: Lowenstein, Lowenstein.

You've got two choices. You can either pretend it never happened, and put it in your freezer, or you can eat it. Whatever you choose, I'm not going to be the one to call you a cheap neo-con whore. Even though you are.

Well, have I done enough to let you all know that I'm back? Shaw! You posture and pose, but what have you delivered? What is the State of the Thread?! Actually, I'm pretty sure I'm sober, so I'll make it easy for you. Do I currently have any Serfs I'm responsible for? Any Squires? What, other than the clown Bunyip, should engage my attention? Fast up with it, dammit. This is the height of the kayaking season. Which means it's the height of the season for God to be screwing with my health. I remain, however, as indestructible as a cockroach and three times as intelligent and amusing as any six of you lot put together. The Olde Ones and Ladies of the 'Pool, of course, being raised far above you, and left out of the accounting. Berli! Peng! Isn't there something we should be doing to these idjits? I mean, occasionally I go over and get Dalem drunk and send him forth to post on the Thread ("My Laser Horn aches to pierce the bowl of Night"?; Jesus to Jesus and eight hands around, someone get me a taser). But it seems like there should be more... pain. They're about as engaged with the concept of the Thread as a bunch of Lotus Eaters complaining that the opium is harshing their buzz by making them constipated. Turns have been sent to MrSpkr and Dalem. Boo must do penance and send me a setup. A round of adoration of my own fine self would be appropriate. Rleete should send me some pictures of the child I begat upon his wife by means of my intellect. Joe must answer my call upon his Stewardship. NG Cavscout and Rune must address the alleged Diprotodon. Mace must consider whether he'll continue to drink Fosters for free, or buy a shout. And finally, I will tell you a brief Tale of Small Emma. Recently Small Emma was introduced to the concept of what a 'brat' was, in her mother's attempt to head-off an interest in the Bratz Dolls that she was inadvertently exposed to. If you don't know what the 'Bratz Dolls' are, think 'skeevy hooker dolls aimed at very young children'. Emma was told that a 'brat' was a bad thing. It was a person who was naughty, and mean, and icky. So, of course, ever since then she's been fascinated with, and trying to come to grips with the whole 'brat' concept. On the one hand, to her it looks like dolls that wear a lot of pink, purple and black, and have a lot of accessories. On the other hand, her Mom, the Law-giver (and therefore a figure that must, for some reason, be questioned), tells her that they are horrible creatures. So, the other night we are playing with her dolls. She gets the real, Trademark Barbie, and I get the hideously cheap 'knock-off from China' doll that should probably be called 'Babie'. My doll seems to be looking slightly down with a fixed expression and mouth-splitting grin that is the last thing that some scuba-divers ever see. And she, in the roll of 'speaking for her doll', tells me: "Grandma Steve...my doll is...a brat". And, mindful of my duty to her and her mother, I tell her "But Emma, we know that brats are naughty, and icky." And she tells me "It's just 'pretend' brat, Grandma Steve". So I tell her, "Okay, Emma. Is your doll naughty?" And she says, "Yes". So, as an anthropologist of Toddler America, I ask her "How is she naughty, Emma?" And she tells me (remember, she's speaking for 'the naughty doll' at this point), slowly and with some thought: "Well..sometimes I pull people's hair" (a thing she has recently experienced, brutally, with her younger, year-old sister). And I tell her, "Well, Emma, that is naughty". And she tells me "And sometimes, if someone takes my toy, I bite them". And I tell her, "Yes, Emma, that's very naughty". And then, waggling the doll around gently while looking at me, she says "And sometimes, I like to kill people." And 'Whoa, Doggies!', I rear back and tell her "Emma Sine Bunny-Ears, that's very naughty, even if we're pretending!" I have a vision of being on-camera, saying 'She was a quiet child, and kept to herself' while the bodies are being gurneyed out in the background. It's all silliness, of course. At four years old she has no more idea of what death or killing someone means than she does of entropy and the end of the universe. But I told her Mom, just to be sure. And her Mom looked a bit non-plussed, and said "As long as she doesn't actually try to kill her younger sister, again, I'm not too worried." After that, we played 'Cinderella' again. It was the basic, Disney story. This time, she added, all on her own, the fact that the Evil Stepmother shouts at the wicked step-sisters, Cinderella, and Barbie: "You insignificant fools!" I, as the voice of the the 'wicked step-sisters' (played by two soft toy dogs), and 'Barbie'(whose role is yet to be determined), that we were not 'insignificant fools, but were, in fact, extremely significant fools'. Her Mom told me: You know, you're not impressing her with your wit by those remarks. And I told her, Yeah, but I make them for my own amusement. It's the only way I can keep playing these strange, repetitive, weird-ass games over and over again without going mad. It's a lot like the way I play with you lot on the Peng Challenge Thread.

Free beer, loose women and great health insurance? </font>

Well, the feck showed more initiative than many in writing to NG Cavscout directly. It's a mixed bag. I think NG Cavscout (how you doing, bucky?!) should have some serious input into this matter. He's a Knight, and I figure hanging out in freaking Iraq while your kids are wondering where you are qualifies you for a take on stupid ****e like this. Man ought to get something for all that other than not having his arse blown off. What says NG Cavscout?

MrsPeng not putting out? </font>

He's got the right of it, there. Or at least, he was granted some sort of special status. The Truth is rarely pretty, and almost never palatable.

Well, hell, I don't give a rip about a Bunyip, but I deeply hate Rune and unlike strangers, his tears are more than just water. On the other hand, I'd only take the piss out with Berli if Peng did too, or the lout had shown real promise, or there was money involved, or I needed leverage with Satan. So, what to do, what to do... Oh, hell, these sorts of situations aren't all that freaking difficult. You just stand in the Wasteland, taking a piss on an open patch of nothingness, and ask for a Sign. Bunyip, if you're still around here and reading this ****e (can't tell, I'm still getting caught up), provide us with a poem. Versify for us, or sing a bit of gibberish, or do something that would cause me to roll onto one cheek long enough to pass wind in judgement. Otherwise, if Rune is willing to get all strident about it, he's got to justify why I should intervene on his behalf, along the lines of 'You come to me, on this day, and you ask me for a favour, but what respect are you willing to show me?' sort of thing.

He is the current Eldest Australian for a reason. Mace, I'm currently carrying a grudge. Work out on the Limeys for a while. The gods know you Aussie buggers have better reason than most...

Where is everyone? Are you people having a pig roast without me?!