Seanachai

He's got you there, Lars...

Okay, I'm off to bed. It was a slow weekend; I was only out on the water for about 4 hours all told. Of course, I did get to watch Dalem stagger around his neighbourhood with a cigar in one hand and a glass in the other, declaiming about Beethoven, at Midnight. A departing singsong: Oi am 'Enry the eighth I am Henry the eighth I am, I am Oi got married to the widow next door She's been married seven times before And every one was an 'Enry She wouldn't have a Willy or a Sam (no way!) I'm her eighth old man name 'Enry 'Enry the eighth I am. Second verse, same as the first! Repeat until Sir 37mm either falls asleep, or begins to trickle blood from the ears..

On Friday, at the place I'm working, I told them the story about how Lars left Lord Fletcher's at closing on one of our first lake get-togethers, ended up falling off his own pontoon boat while taking a piss off the front end, drunk, and, after avoiding the motor props and grabbing a trailing line, was dragged across the lake for half a mile at 2 AM before he was able to struggle back aboard and take control. As I stood there, wiping the tears of laughter from my eyes at the memory, I realized that not only were the other two guys in the office not laughing, they were staring at me with disbelief and horror. Matt: So, he was like alone on the lake, in the dark, being dragged behind the boat? Seanachai: Yeah. Isn't that priceless? Chris: Holy ****, he could have drowned, man! Seanachai: Uh, yeah, I guess he could have. Matt: He could have had the boat go right over him, and been cut to ribbons by the prop, you know? Seanachai: Well, I suppose. But, you gotta picture it: Here's Lars up in the bow of this chugging along pontoon boat, taking a piss over the rail, and he leans over to check his running lights, and he does a header right into the lake! Right into the lake! Chris: Man, it's just amazing he wasn't seriously hurt. Matt: So he was just being dragged along, holding onto a rope? Seanachai: Yes. He said it took him forever, slowly thrashing along at the end of the line, to claw his way back onto the boat! Hi-larious, eh?! Matt: What would he have done if he'd gotten tangled up in something while the boat was dragging him? I'm amazed he was able to get back aboard. Chris: Yeah. He was extremely lucky. You know, that's not funny, man. Seanachai: Oh for the love of all the gods, you fecks! It was Lars! A man who's destined to be hung is never going to die by drowning, fer chrissake... Later, when I thought about it, I guess I realized that Lars could have died. But since the drunken bastard didn't, it just made it all the freaking funnier! I dunno. What do you guys think? Is there something wrong with me? Has exposure to people like Lars and Dalem desensitized me to cosmological doses of chlorine in the Gene Pool? Am I...a horrible little man? Say it with me now, loud enough for every lackwit to hear: YES YOU ARE! Man. Half a mile. I wish I coulda filmed it...

Amazing. That showed a sense of maturity and Knightly wisdom I'd thought you all but incapable of achieving. Here's the hammer. Sorry, Sturmy...

What dragged you from sleep was the sense of remorse kicking in for that vile bad versification you inflicted on your betters. Go shatter one hand with a ball-peen hammer, and get back to bed. The shrieking pain in your newly crippled hand should drown out the sense of loathing you rightly feel for your attempt at poetry, and allow you to finally sleep.

Speaking of which, last night I left Dalem in a puddle of rum, mumbling incoherently about George Takei and a 'wrap around, chest-baring Federation uniform top'. At one point I attempted to lead him in a jolly singsong, but he sounded painfully like a raccoon being neutered by a hunting dog. So I sang several songs me own self, instead, and then drove home. Young people today. They can't hold their rum.

Student of the Dalem School of Versification </font>

Because I like Ales. He's a giddy bastard. Ah, Joe. If only you'd been there on the river today. I know that it would have made your life more joyous. HAPPY AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE DAY, YOU USELESS LOT OF PUSTULANT BOILS ON THE BUM OF HUMANITY! It's quite busy outside. People celebrating their arse off with near constant explosions. The whole neighbourhood sounds like the battle for Hue...

I stand up and piss right into the river, in front of God and Man, as any right minded individual does. Are you drunk again, Dvorak? With you, I can never tell.

Sorry, Dalem, I should have called you back the other night. I was actually in town, but pretty much every single moment was committed to people, from making Small Emma happy, to having meals with friends, to kayaking. Today was the big one. I kayaked 16 miles down the Cannon River, from Faribault to Northfield. Low water in a number of places made it a bit of a challenge. We headed out not knowing what to expect. But do you know, we brought plenty of rope. Charles Bronson always brings plenty of rope, and he always ends up needin' it!

You pass. Get me a beer, and toss Panzer Leader some kibble, you long-lashed, fluttering Belgian bastard.

GODDAMN BELGIAN HOMOSEXUALS! GO HERE TO RESPOND!

And Oh, the Endless Rules! Here's the Rules as are Quick, and Pretty. Mind you, they're more like...Guidelines. Arrr! Sound off like you've got a pair! A Classic line. Wonderfully fraught with significance. If you're overly concerned with your pair, put them on a leash and take them to the Men's room in the park. As God is My Witness, I thought that someday, somehow, I'd be amused by the responses here. It's never too late for you to give me an Epiphany... Take all your anger, your bitterness, your prejudices, your hatreds, your poetic reminisces by the Big Sea Shining Waters, and roll them up into a small, easily swallowed pill. Don't ask anyone to put anything into their minds that you wouldn't put into your mouth...and swallow. Revere the Ladies of the 'Pool as you would the Virgin Mary, Mary Magdalene, and 'Mary, the Really Hot Chick With Tattoos' down at the bar with the really, really great beer list. In other words, treat every woman who posts on the Web as you would the Mother of God, a Respected, Spiritually Redeemed Whore, and The Woman You'd Most Like to Hit the Clubs With. If you can balance all those elements, you've seriously reduced the chances that you're going to die alone, reviled, and touching yourself 'without a happy ending' in a men's room in a rest area in Idaho. For all the rest, the Justicar makes up rules, the Knights laugh at you, the Lower Classes bleat like sheep, and the Olde Ones are working on a system of genetic profiling where we scrape your tongue after every post, to see if you've evolved far enough to fetch us a beer and feed our pets. Say 'Aaahhh'. [ June 30, 2006, 12:25 AM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

Stand down. I shall do it.

They are available now? Did the AA meeting just let out? </font>

Berli! You Bastard! Peng! You Swine! What should we listen to, this Holiday Weekend? And what should we drink? And what should we sing? And what should we watch? And what should we do about this shower of half-witted bastard's gets that have been prancing around the landscape with their trousers around their ankles, attempting to 'wave it at us'?

How quaint. Now that you've stood on tip-toe to see what's going on, can I ask you if the pressure from the rock you're crawling out from under has increased forehead slope deformation to the point where frontal lobe response is badly lagging behind the curve for mean intelligence in Horrible Little Lackwits? The confrontation between Apocalypso Horesemen and Knights of the Peng Challenge has been going on since The Beginning. Ach, Gods! I need to commune with My Peers...

Could be worse. You could have to post sober. Should we take a vote?

YOU HORRIBLE LITTLE FAGGOT! IF YOU LIVED IN AMERICA, ALL I'D HAVE TO DO TO TEACH YOU A LESSON IS CONTRIBUTE $500 TO THE 'RELIGIOUS RIGHT' TO HAVE YOU PICKED UP BY TEXAS GUARDSMEN, BEATEN HALF TO DEATH AND TIED TO A FENCE POST WITH BARBED WIRE IN A FIELD FULL OF HUNGRY CALVES WITHOUT MOTHERS! It's good to post in the Peng Challenge Thread. When you put all your Tokens together, you can take the train all over town.

*Imagines Seanachai lying back on a chaise lounge, cold drink in hand, waving a dollar bill in the air while shouting orders at Boo to "entertain" him in various ways.* </font>

Hmmm... carefully reads the Large, Thuggish Reply...considers the nuances of voice, usage and wit... I win.

Hang on a second there, Gepetto! Seneschal to the Bardic House, along with my duties as Associate Back up...whatever... Justicar, AND being the Knight with the most seniority in House Lex, who is still active? </font>

Bah! Italian food? Load o' ****e. Greek food, now that's the ticket for a man! Indian food, that'll keep you fed and happy. A man wants his pint and his curry. Here, point of order! You fecking Australians: What do you lot find more hideous, a Pommie or a Kiwi? I mean, if you were pressed to it, which one would you let into the lifeboats last? I've been wondering about this, lately.

Uh huh. And may I ask just why you want to call your kayak A'Tuin? </font>

Where? In your living room? I imagine it's better for all concerned that way. </font>