Seanachai

By God, he was a puppet's puppet, and let no one tell you different!

No, this is the age where nations & militaries will continue to withhold information about their capabilities, weapons-systems, and actions because that is what nations and militaries do. Nor does anything you say invalidate the fact that secrets will, often for years, remain secret, that NO nation wants to publicize the details of a serious screw-up, and that the reasons a brilliantly carried out operation were so brilliant may involve factors that will never be known. Events will move faster, but analysis still takes time. History isn't written by bloggers, even if they chronicle the events. The pace of analysis might quicken given the ability to move information around more quickly, but wading through lies, misinformation, secrecy, misunderstanding, and just plain BS will continue to take time. In the wake of a battle, a weapons system may be widely trumpeted as 'the deciding factor'. 10 years later, analysis of the incredible tonnage of information that your 'information age' deluged the world with may prove that the system in question was flawed at best, and a complete waste of time at worst, and that other factors, unrealized at the time, are what led to victory. What Emrys said is not invalidated by the belief that access to instant information produces instant truths, because arriving at the Truth will remain a time consuming, laborious, and difficult process.

Oops. Guess it's time to respond to your email, then, you non-turn sending feck. Even when he's happy, he thinks of us. There's something wrong with that boy. I, too, will be glad, but I wouldn't make any assumptions about the hardware. When it comes to smashing things in a vague and inept way, he's an over-achiever. You haven't met the guy yet, but he comes off as someone who, if he hadn't been saved by marriage and children, would be living in a cardboard Whirlpool dishwasher delivery box with a crusty sock-puppet named 'Dante', and whose most prized possession would be a set of silver fondue forks stolen off the gift table at an outdoor wedding held in one of Beloit's city parks...

Shuffle feet to this new and pleasant Isle of Aves, you bunch of scunners: I Will Show You Where the Iron Crosses Grow, Peng!

Rules, rules, there simply has to be some sort of rules, or a high-pitched whining noise begins in Utah until it finally hits a decibel level heard all over the world. So, here are some very straight-forward rules. First, the only reason for you to post here is to amuse ME. All the other people you see posting here are figments; possibly of my imagination, possibly of the imagination of some poor sod locked in an institution who thinks his name is 'Seanachai', and that he's the esteemed member of a Web Community somewhere. It matters nothing. Amuse ME with your post, or piss off. Nextly, you will treat the 'Ladies of the 'Pool' with honour, and even reverence. In fact, you should treat most women that way, although I don't insist upon it for Margaret Thatcher, Leona Helmsley, or Imelda Marcos, and you can be catty and a bit vulgar with Martha Stewart if you like. Finally, there are lots and lots of rules here. You don't need to know what they are, because every time you violate one, there will be someone along in minutes to inform you that you're a world class pillock, and that you've broken the rules. There is an elaborate, and, in fact ever more elaborate hierarchy of people posting here. You don't need to learn what the hierarchy is, because whenever you fail to take it into account, someone will be along within minutes to inform you that you're a dog's todger and explain to you how you've violated the inviolable hierarchy. Basically, there's only three names you need to go in awe of: Seanachai, Berli and MrPeng. Joe Shaw will explain to you at length all the other things you should know. He has many henchmen, but they all despise him, so they will probably tell you something completely different. And, at the end of the day, remember: We are already in the End Days. The Apocalypso has begun. You are a cipher in the scheme of the Universe. Your passage through our midst, this world, and life itself won't mean a good goddamn to a tree. Not even one with dutch elm disease. So sod off.

Uh, yes. Very nice, John. I think it far more likely, though, that the Israelis are simply unwilling to incur even minor casualties against a minor enemy in what is, practically speaking, a punitive move against a sovereign nation that is simply too weak militarily to hold extremists in check. Reduced to a Fourth World country by Israel previously, they're now being shattered again because previous Israeli incursions left them too politically and militarily weak to hold their own. Israel has based both their military and political policies on regular 'culling' of their neighbours and the irregular forces that blossom in the vacuum that nation-shattering military incursions leave in their wake. The weeds have gotten too rank in southern Lebanon, so it's time to prune back their capabilities. But there's no point in paying much for it, especially if you're going to have to turn around in a year or two and do the same thing in Syria. And now, not only is Hezbollah fairly de-clawed, but Lebanon has been reduced once again to tatters. No strong nation to the north, current irregulars battered: Why spend any more lives or military capital than you need to? Well, for one thing, before we start trumpeting Hezbollah's 'effectiveness' against that of 'Arab Armies', Israel hasn't fully engaged any 'regular Arab forces' since the '73 war. That was 33 years ago, John, and the Syrians managed to make that one hurt, even though they could not win it. Also, changes in technology have, as the US is currently discovering, made irregular forces effective far beyond their actual capabilities, if the only criterion is 'short term, immediate damage'. If the Big Player nations wanted to end the effectiveness of insurgents and irregulars, they'd get on top of the International Arms Market and shut it down. But for all the Neo-Con snarling and yapping about France and Russia, the United States does absolutely nothing about instituting effective control of arms sales, and, right up there with such slut nations as France and Russia, our equipment is just as available, albeit a few more hoops have to be negotiated before the insurgent seal can blow the head off the ringmaster. We wire-tap, and trace the money (a far more effective and useful policy, in my opinion), and we posture endlessly. But move to regulate the world's Arms Industry? Never happen. Good for them! It'll make it much easier to identify the dead. Oh, yeah, before I forget: I think the game should...um...you know, take into account the whole 'Arab' thing. You know. And Iran. They're almost like 'Arabs'. There should be rules that, like, take into account the Arabs. There. That should be enough to keep my post from being taken as 'political'. Christ knows it doesn't take much, given the Game concept. Oh, and John? CNN isn't out to inform you. They're out there to grab your attention, titillate you, and make you tune in for more. Just like 'Survivor'. The special you watched? That was the CNN take on 'who will get voted out of the Middle East next?! Stay tuned for all your Middle East Crises here!'

That's inaccurate, Michael. It should have been: Insignificant lowbrows from uncultured countries.

That's too horrible to contemplate. Can't we all take poison just before the asteroid hits instead? Michael </font>

Here's to that bastard Berli! A good host, a good sort, a hell of a guy, and a guy from Hell. Would The Almighty stand you to a drink and put on a good song? Not him! In Heaven, the off-sales all close at 8 PM, the harps jangle with feverish praise, and any attempt at jollity is drowned under the onslaught of adoring sycophancy.

Eh, Boo was on AIM (or Messenger, they're all the same) but he dropped off before I could begin to harangue him further. Coward.

Boo, stop talking like some sick, wrong Ohio hayseed. You're creeping me out.

Her Babooshka video has always been........stimulating. </font>

I love it when she giggles and says the last cloud "Looks like Ireland..."

If you think that's bad, try watching Narnia with him some time. We shouldn't castigate him too much, though. It's just his nature. He probably is the Witch King, though. Still, he'll be right there with us in the End Days, doing an aria about the 'Joys of Hell', like a good Neo-Con.

Hush, thuggish one. Our man Emrys is after being all Eternal. He gets a certain 'lilt' to his posts when he does, and it pleases me. Of course it is. Soon all those who have a role to play in the Apocalypso will be locked into the same soundtrack. The Grand Alignment has begun. You do realize that, in the later stages, all of us will not only be posting to the same soundtrack, but living it? And even...gods help us...dancing to it? In the End Days, all the members of the Peng Challenge Thread, as significant primaries in the Apocalypso, will be in the streets, caught up in a hideous cross between a Busby Berkeley musical and The Rocky Horror Picture Show...

You only remember being young, but we both know it was a delusion. A daydream you had to trick memories around the fact that you were born Eternal. A bit like that poor sod in Bladerunner with his 'childhood photos'. And if I only could, I'd make a deal with God, And I'd get him to swap our places, Be running up that road, Be running up that hill, Be running up that building. If I only could, oh...

Actually, I was listening to Hounds of Love. Although my first love will always remain The Dreaming...

When I first read your 'versifications', I thought I understood pain. But 37mm's horrendous works of ****e make you look like fecking Robert Frost.

Vaguely? You ended up on your front lawn staggering around flipping open your official 'Star Trek Communicator', with a pair of another, even weaker guest's pants pulled awkwardly on like a jacket, shouting "Beam me up, Scottie" and "KHAN!", and demanding that we set fire to your 'annoying' neighbour's house. Thank the gods for the swords, or we'd never have distracted you from celebrating Alvistide in the middle of the street.

Are you challenging me to start drinking NOW? at 9:14pm?</font>

Sorry, but I'm heading up to the Sauk River Chain of Lakes early in the morning to go kayaking. I'd never be in shape for that if I came over to your house and drank all your rum and smoked all your cigars, and chased your cat around the basement shouting 'apostate' and watched Sealab 2021, now would I? But, in your honour, I am smoking an Onyx Reserve. Also, I need to stay here and show Nidan how to drink. The bugger is already 'fingerless' with alcohol, and is dangerously close to getting maudlin. We can't be more than 45 minutes away from 'You guys...best bunch of...I mean it...why aren't I...what a world, where I can...and gnomes...' You know, a bit like you two weeks ago.

What's that, Lassie? You're just a dog, and can't actually type English?! Show us, girl! Show us where the the other verbs and nouns are!

The alternative is less amusing. You've already fulfilled yours. Now shut the feck up, get drunker, and continue being happy. And no, you're not 'a bad person'. Just an idjit. Yes, but it will have to learn to fight to the beat of Travis Tritt...

Dear God. Someone get Dalem in here to write a poem, stat! If we do a musical, you will NOT fecking be working on the libretto... I think I might be bleeding internally. [ July 22, 2006, 06:55 PM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

Ah, that dear little mite! She always wins. She's becoming quite the 'person', these days, as children do. She toddles off to do something, and then turns and says 'Follow me, Grandma Steve'. And I do, bless her imperious little heart. I was an observer to a 'battle of wills' the other night. I had stopped to see my friends Jen, Tiny Nora, and Small Emma. At one point, when Small Emma was far busier screwing around than eating her dinner, her Mom told her: 'Emma, eat your rice, or you won't get any ice cream for dessert'. Now, Emma loves ice cream. But she looked up at her Mom and said 'Okay. I'm done.' 'That means no ice cream, Emma.' 'Fine. No ice cream.' Jen, whose carrot/stick bluff had been called, and who was very irritated by the fact that Emma hadn't managed to eat any dinner at all, for all practical purposes (and who was also worn a little bit thin from sleep deprivation given the demands of Tiny Nora), told her 'Emma, you haven't eaten any dinner at all! All you've done is drop enough food on the rug to make the dogs fat. You are going to sit there and eat five bites of rice, and three bites of peas, or you're going to bed RIGHT NOW!' And Small Emma looks at her and says, very pugnaciously: Emmasemma! Jen: Emma, eat your rice! Emma: Emmasemma! Jen: Eat your rice! Emma: Emmasemma! Jen: Emma, stop saying that word and eat your dinner! Emma: Emmasemma! Now, I have this theory about children and words. They spend the first couple of years dealing with the fact that everyone around them can use language, and they increasingly come to realize that 'words have power'. And they slowly become more and more adept at using language and words themselves, which fills them with pride, and increases their own power with those around them. Add into this mix television and movies involving 'fantasy and magic', and they hit a point where they, probably much like Early Man, become convinced that there are 'magic words'. Words that, if properly used, will give them the power to exert their will and overcome opposition. I'm convinced, as I sat there, that Small Emma was attempting such an 'imposition of will by magic spell'. But what was extremely entertaining (for the observing 'Grandma Steve') was the fact that I could look from Jen, 5' 9", dark-haired, with her oval, lovely face set as implacably as steel, to Small Emma, 2' 5", golden-haired, pretty, chubby-cheeked face with jaw pushed forward in a look of determination beyond her age, and it was like looking at the same person through a mirror distorted by Time! Fascinating. And then Jen, trumping the childish use of the 'magic word' with the more powerful spells of adulthood, said 'That's IT, Emma. You're going to your room for a time out!' And, after a bit more staring, Small Emma dropped her eyes and said 'No. Three bites of rice.' (Equally fascinating for Grandma Steve has been watching the evolution of 'child negotiating skills'...) Jen: 'Five bites of rice, Emma. And three bites of peas!' Negotiations ended. Emma proceeded to piss about with her food for a while, clearly torn about whether to capitulate or not. During all this, of course, Grandma Steve, Follower of Small Emma, but Somewhat Responsible Adult (who's afraid of her Mom), was saying things like 'Hey, Emma Sine! You can eat five bites of rice! I've seen you eat far more bites of rice than that!', etc. etc. After a short while, Small Emma deigns to look up and say: 'If I eat my dinner, will you be happy, Grandma Steve?' in an ingenuous, smiling sort of way. And I told her 'Yes, Emma. That would make me very happy.' And she proceeded to eat not simply five bites of rice and three bites of peas, but all her dinner. She didn't even insist on ice cream, afterwards, because she'd already moved on to new things to be amused about. At the end of the night, when it was getting very close to Small Emma's bedtime, her Mom told her: 'Emma, it's time to pick up your toys'. She ignored her Mom, of course. So she was told again 'time to pick up toys'. And she continued to pretend she wasn't being told anything. Finally, her Mom told her 'Emma, pick up your toys or you're going to your room'. She finally, slowly, got up and gathered up her things from the floor. And then Grandma Steve, yours truly, heard the small voice say: 'Stupid'. And her Mom, who has the kind of hearing only Moms have, said 'What was that, Emma?' I, of course, was sitting there whispering to myself 'Oh, bunny, DON'T repeat it!' And she says, louder 'Stupid!' 'What is stupid, Emma?' I sat there, and I held my breath. And then she replied, with her arms full of her toys, 'All this stuff is stupid'. Now, I knew that her Mom wasn't pleased with that sort of talk, but I could she was also going to let it pass. And I heaved a great sigh of relief. And then, in her clear, dulcet, cute and childish voice, I heard her say 'And you're stupid!' That was it. Her Mom's eyes shot fire, her jaw clenched, and 'That's IT, young lady! You're going straight to bed!' And Small Emma was summarily marched away to her room, crying, screaming 'NO, NO, NO' and carrying on as though Hell gaped wide before her. I didn't get to say goodnight. Jen came down later, and told me 'Well, I went into her room after a bit to tuck her in, and I asked her: Is there anything you want to say to Mommy? And she said, in a tiny voice 'I'm sorry'.' And I told her Mom 'Well, I'm glad you two made up your differences'. The same, set-jawed, steely look was turned on me and she said 'There are no 'differences'. There is 'right' and there is 'wrong'!' I told her 'Hey, you're not my Mom! Down, girl!' And, after she looked at me for a while, I mumbled 'Well, I'm just after saying, is all.' And then I went home.