Seanachai

How long did it take the first time? </font>

Good point. I thought no one was paying attention. I will continue work.

I am about to put a new spelling on a word: GNOMADIC I fear that I am constrained by International Law to give 'Proper Notice'. Therefore, let me put all in the neighbourhood of the Irish Isles (called by some the 'British Isles') on notice that in the last week of March of this year, I will be in Dublin for 3-4 days, and in the west of Ireland for several more days after that. I do not know how difficult or expensive it is for UKers to get to Dublin, or for a drunken Gnome to get from Dublin to some portion of England. But perhaps, given the unlikelihood of my ever being permitted out of America again, I should investigate the possibilities. I will be in Ireland with Family, so I am not completely free to come and go as I would. But on the other hand, they tire of me very quickly, and the idea that I might disappear for a period probably wouldn't bother them at all. We are going there to visit my nephew, Danny, who will be studying art & design for a semester in Ballyvaughan just outside of Galway through his college. So, our current plan is to land in Dublin, spend 3-4 days there, go to Belfast, come back to Dublin, and from there proceed to Galway. I believe we're flying out of that area and going to Manchester for a brief lay-over combined with a chance for me to meet with various members of the British Government to explain to them why sucking up to the Bush Administration was simply a bad idea all round. And then I return to America, amidst loud rejoicing from the rest of the World, and groans of disappointment from Red Staters and Neo-Con whores. My Family is all abuzz with this opportunity to visit 'the Old Country'. Well, not my entire family. My youngest sister, Jenny's family, isn't going, as they have the youngest kids, and they can't afford it right now. It's going to be me Mum, my Step-dad, and my sister Liz's family (of whom Danny, that we're after visiting, is a part). And myself. I, of course, am excited at the idea of going to a far-away, magical land that my ancestors came from, and drinking a great deal of beer and whisky until I'm ejected. What makes it 'magical' is that, since I'm going to have to be thrown out of an entire Nation, it will probably take much longer than usual. I will keep this Forum posted.

I've got Mae West in my head, but I'm sitting in a corner shivering at the thought. Belgian bugger needs a right good kicking.

What? Piss off, you Aussie feck! Get us all a beer, and put it on my tab, eh? My shout.

Funny, I thought this was the thread were we wished the Queen Emma and her exceedingly lucky mensch all the best. </font>

Oh, so you're shutting up now? Well, win-win for all of us, eh? </font>

Hmmm now let me see.... *Thinks back* Yep... I'm still waiting for the reply to the last two mails I sent your way.. If I recall correctly I was waffling on about how wonderful life was and how wonderful my now husband is.... etc.. etc.. etc... </font>

THERE HAS BEEN NO MARRIAGE! That's right, you heard me. My Blessing has not been sought. Until I grant my Blessing, Mensch and Emma are simply indulging in endless, shameless wickedness. I will simply be sitting over here, quietly contemplating Wickedness in all it's manifest forms... What the hell's going on here, again? Oh, that's right. UNTIL MY BLESSING IS SOUGHT AND GIVEN, THERE IS NO MARRIAGE!

Hush, Aussie ****e. I am telling Leeo a Story, here, eh?

LAZARUS by Steven 'Seanachai' Pemble They came for him in the darkness, in that non-time that comes at the end of night but before early morning; not yet one, nor the other. The safe house was not as safe as they’d thought. The men who took him, the three who seized him and dragged him out to the waiting Bronco with opaque tinted windows wore no uniforms, and he felt the immensity of that dread. No official detention, then. No simple arrest; no official entity responsible, however laughingly, for his where-abouts or well-being. He rode through the streets of the city with a sack on his head. Twice he tried to speak, to ask where he was going, and was punched into gasping incoherence. [ January 18, 2007, 09:52 PM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

Will there be bares? Please, tell me there will be bares. Bared souls; bared hearts; bared feelings; lives laid bare; bare emotions; bare survival; bare cognition; bare lucidity... Yes, please, good sir, let there be bares. </font>

Hiram, you idiot. I have more books than you're likely to encounter in all the days of your life unless you should one day, no doubt drunk and lost, wander into a library. I have dictionaries leapin' about the place like gazelles, each one begging me to verify my least little moment of confusion with them. I have a grasp of language that makes your various valiant attempts at questioning me seem like a small child's attempt at 'talking like a big girl'. I told you, I gave Joe a Title. The Title was Justicar. Now, be a good lad, and send me some recent pictures of you and the family.

Some people pick up on even the barest of hints. And when they do, they command. I will prepare for you from my long ago catalogue the bedtime story of a man who was raised from the dead, that I wrote while I was in jail. I will do for you the extraordinary 'renditions' of everyday fairytale characters who were water-boarded into telling the truth. I will swirl scarves about, and gesture with both hands, and I will type you tales of the sad characters on the fringe of Society, whose only outlet was posting on a Message Board, who achieved a sort of legendary success by telling their stories to the sort of hapless idiots who can't take a piss without catching their privates in their zippers. I will tell you Stories of Wonder. For most of you lot of halfwit masturbators, they will be stories of: I wonder where I left my beer...

I proposed the Title. I spelled it Justicar. I did it for reasons of my own, but amongst them were the fact that it made it unique. Here, we are unique. Here, we have a Justicar. I knew all the alternate spellings, more definitions than most of you butterflies can flutter at on a Spring day, and I chose as I did. I did it. For one thing, Justicar rhymes with more words than 'Justiciar', which is a hissing and a slurring. 'Justiciar' is a soft latinization of the solid, harsh consonants of the solid anglo-saxon of Justicar. We have a Justicar. It lets everyone who hears it know that Justice is Here. When Justice arrives, no one should be left in doubt about it. 'Justiciar' is too much like a snakey hiss that rhymes with 'lawyer'. Sod that. Judgement is Judgement. Handed down by the Justicar. On a festive note, the Olde Ones once got really, really drunk listening to Reggae and drinking Single Malt Scotch. After all, above every Judge, there are the Powers That Be. Of course, there's that whole thing about the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypso. And then there's the whole thing about BFC, the Powers That Are. For the most of you lot of fecks, the main thing is to remember this: The Universe is a constant, dazzling exchange of energies. In this Thread, the exchange of energies is always, for-fecking-ever going to run up against the Justicar. It's like a goddamn magnetic pole. I created the son-of-a-bitch, and I'm as helpless to navigate without him as you lot are to piss without getting any on your shoes.

And I agree. Bolding the name requires an application of UBB code. It requires noting when you use the name of a significant 'Pooler. It requires the fussy business of typing a correct sequence of symbols, and checking afterwards to see if you've done it right. What it mainly requires, of course, is attention. If you're not willing to take the time to sort out the UBB code to bold a 'Pooler, then you're just another Wanker posting, eh? Any useless waste of Human Sperm can post here, almost endlessly, about any sodding thing that comes into the portions of his or her brain that the Aliens have left clear of a fascination with bodily functions and Lego toy configurations, and we have only a handful of remedies for dealing with it. So why should we respond to anyone who can't take the trouble to sort out [ b ] Name [ /b ]? Also, it makes you pay attention, hopefully to what you're actually saying, so that you don't just go off like a freaking lunatic and rave. Of course, for the experienced, it all becomes a rather amusing game...

You golf?! You are far more sick, disturbed and irredeemable than I had ever previously imagined. And I have an imagination that's pretty thorough-going. We could even call it 'supple'. I dream in full colour (or even, when required by the material, in sepia tones), and most of my dreams involve serious story-lines, characterization and even strange plot developments. I have, on occasion, woken up from a dream and wondered about plot holes, only to realize upon reflection that they were covered by an earlier aspect of the dream. Also, in my dreams, I deal on friendly terms with the dead. And, in other dreams, I have been known to get up to all sorts of hi-jinks. But never in my most base, vicious and pedestrian dreams did I think that you golfed. I had always held you above that sort of thing. It grieves me to find that I was wrong.

Well I'll be goddamned to a better Hell than this. That was a masterful rendition of History. I can't remember the last time I was that sober. I dunno. I imagine that every few months we get some sort of challenge to the existence/provence of the Justicar. Can't imagine having that much energy. The bugger sends me emails, now an then. Never much questioned his Special Covenant. Was there, you understand, when it was given out. Pretty sure he looked all triumphal. Maybe did a little dance. Preened and bobbed. I try to ignore that sort of thing. I'm drunk and unhappy. Too many goddamn days gone by without paddling. Where's my kayak? You lot are just another substitution for Happily Ever After. Can't believe you cocksuckers didn't want me to tell you one of my stories...

I love it when Families can come together...

No one wishes to know. No stories for any of this lot.

Now it's said, and said truly, of the Peng Challenge Thread, that if one day goes by there without a post, then the World will surely come to an end. So, judging by the way things are going, it's just as well I've posted here tonight. I could tell you a story, if I chose. And if you chose, I could tell you a story. But there's none here, I think, that cares about stories anymore...

I left a message for you there you Faux Scot. Joe </font>

Indeed, I do. Indeeeed, I do. </font>

For 'flips sake'? What the freaking hell is that? I am the Nice Olde One. Do you gang of pederast's cast-offs understand what the hell that means? I am the nice one. This does not mean that I am 'nice'. It means that I am the closest that you stupid sods are going to get to 'nice'. It also means that I am the One, True Bugger that understands what a puddle most of you have been washed into.

The Gods bless the Holidays, and all the posters on this Thread, and all those who have loved and suffered sadness, and all those who have loved and known joy. The Goddess send every good thing to all Her children, and shield them from affliction in this New Year.