Seanachai

Dear Joe, "I'm not on that committee, I'm chairing the Extra-Special Sub-Committee on the Use of Company Time to Surf for Pron (E.S.S.C.U.C.T.S.P.)*") </font>

Because I'm no good at dancing. </font>

Ha! I saw this post before you fixed it, you bugger.

Because I'm no good at dancing.

I am so going to kick the snot out of you some day...

Ah, the joys of being me. Small Emma loves me. I'm the only adult she can order around. Even the sodding dogs don't pay any attention to her orders. But I do. Her Mom and Dad play with her, but they play with her on their terms, whereas Grandma Steve plays with her on her terms. Her weird-arsed 2 1/2 year old games that are completely incomprehensible to anyone else. Like: Here, Grandma Steve. Here are your Letters! (and she hands me several carefully selected refrigerator magnet alphabet letters). Now sit down here! (on the sodding floor in their dining room, over by the combination glass topped/wrought iron credenza like table that incorporates a twelve bottle wine rack into the base; Grandma Steve hopes that soon she will decide that 'big girls' play at the table in comfortable chairs. This sitting on the floor ****e is killing my knees and aging bum) Now, touch the tiger's toes (The aforesaid table is flanked by knee high plaster gargoyle type heraldic lions that she calls 'tigers'). We then touch the tigers's toes, and put our fingers into the tigers's mouths, and say 'ow! The tiger bit me! Silly tiger!' and then laugh like loons. Each week she incorporates a new element into the game. This week it involved adding the antics of 'giraffe and zebra', realistic plastic animal figures I bought for her because I know she has this fascination with giraffes and zebras, as well as upping the number of refrigerator magnet letters from 3 to 5. Which, when she counts them, always come out as '7', because she always counts the larger letters twice, even though I have cautioned her about this over-zealous behaviour. The glory of being Grandma Steve is that I can take an almost clinical approach to the delight this little booger brings me. Normal parents can't do that. They're so overwhelmed with the whole business of parenting, earning a living, and being exhausted that they can't sit and analyze, from a drunkard/drug addict's perspective, the antics of their children.

I used to be a farmer and I made a living fine I had a little stretch of land along the C.P. Line But times were hard, and though I tried, the money wasn't there And bankers came and took my land, and told me "fair is fair". I looked for every kind of job, the answer always no "Hire you now," they'd always laugh, "we just let twenty go!" The government they promised me a measly little sum But I've got too much pride to end up just another bum Then I thought, who gives a damn if all the jobs are gone, I'm gonna be a pirate on the river Saskatchewan. 'Cause it's a heave-ho, high-ho, coming down the Plains Stealing wheat and barley and all the other grains And it's a ho-hey, high-hey, farmers bar your doors When you see the Jolly Roger on Regina's mighty shores You'd think the local farmers would know that I'm at large But just the other day I saw an unsuspecting barge I snuck up right behind them and they were none the wiser I rammed their ship and sank it, and I stole their fertilizer. A bridge outside of Moose Jaw spans a mighty river Farmers cross in so much fear their stomachs are a-quiver 'Cause they know that Tractor Jack is waiting in the bay, I'll jump the bridge and knock them cold and sail off with their hay. 'Cause it's a heave-ho, high-ho, coming down the Plains Stealing wheat and barley and all the other grains And it's a ho-hey, high-hey, farmers bar your doors When you see the Jolly Roger on Regina's mighty shores Well, Mountie Bob he chased me, he was always at my throat He followed on the shoreline, 'cause he didn't own a boat, But cutbacks were a-coming and the Mountie lost his job So now he's sailing with me and we call him Salty Bob. A swinging sword, a skull-and-bones, and pleasant company, I never pay my income tax and screw the G.S.T. (Screw it!) Prince Albert down to Saskatoon, the terror of the sea If you wanna reach the Co-op, boy, you gotta get by me! 'Cause it's a heave-ho, high-ho, coming down the Plains Stealing wheat and barley and all the other grains And it's a ho-hey, high-hey, farmers bar your doors When you see the Jolly Roger on Regina's mighty shores Well pirate life's appealing but you don't just find it here I heard that in Alberta there's a band of buccaneers They roam the Athabasca from Smith to Fort McKay And you're bound to lose your Stetson if you have to pass their way Well, winter is a-coming and a chill is in the breeze My pirate days are over once the river starts to freeze I'll be back in springtime, but now I've got to go I hear there's lots of plundering down in New Mexico. 'Cause it's a heave-ho, high-ho, coming down the Plains Stealing wheat and barley and all the other grains And it's a ho-hey, high-hey, farmers bar your doors When you see the Jolly Roger on Regina's mighty shores 'Cause it's a heave-ho, high-ho, coming down the Plains Stealing wheat and barley and all the other grains And it's a ho-hey, high-hey, farmers bar your doors When you see the Jolly Roger on Regina's mighty shores When you see the Jolly Roger on Regina's mighty shores Silence, you Canadian whore! I shall subdue you with the power of jolly singsong!

Oh my god that is sooo sexy, I could just imagine my wife all sweaty n wearin Daisy Duke shorts givin my John Deere 8030 tractor a bath! </font>

37mm... DANCE LIKE AN ORGAN-GRINDER'S MONKEY FOR ME, YOU LIMEY FERRET!

I am angry and...dare I say it? Unhappy. I demand that a number of the lesser squirrels around here be forced to dance and juggle for the amusement of myself and other long-standing members. I know this is an abuse of my position and such, but, since it will also amuse most of the other seniors, I figure it's not going to cause that much outrage.

Well, I might well be wrong, but I think that Gasmask character was a complete fecking humbug. Peng, my thoughts are with your Mum. Good on her, and I have every confidence that she will do well.

I shudder to think what was smeared across the screen...

I decided to refrain from posting on this issue until everyone had had a chance. I will make only one point: Rleete is my former Squire, raised to Knighthood by myself. Whether the Master or his Journeyman takes on Stoat as Squire, a tradition of intellect and insight will continue. Only not as much if Roger takes him on, because he's got all the wit and sense of humour of a dissected fetal pig.

Goddamn everything but the circus, and pirates, says I... Works for me. Bloody testosterone level around here on a good day wouldn't light a match. I say, let's give the bloody Belgian Gay Boy a title, and inject a little manhood back into the damn Thread.

What the hell?! Have your buddies finally gotten the raisinjack works up to speed in time for you to try out posting during a bout of methanol poisoning? Dalem hadn't ever seen 'Firefly' until I brought him up my copies on DVD, you useless oick.

Yeah, and you try to touch me like that again and Rose will be all over you like a duck on a June bug, Sparky. </font>

I despise a man who cannot overcome his hideous chemical issues long enough to make a coherent point. I hold myself to a rigid standard of behaviour when it comes to being completely fecking wacked out, and you sir will by the gods stand up straight, get a grip on your tongue, and learn to write prose that makes some modicum of sense.

Um...Gasmask? What about your reply? You know, your MOS, and everything? Busy with Google?

Why are you still only a Squire? I mean, what the hell is wrong with you? If I had a pet with as little initiative as you, I'd have it put down.

Well, no. It seems to me that anyone who had really been in the military, when asked a specific question by another guy who had shared the same experience, they'd speak to one another in the language of their shared experience. That's how people with the same shared experience speak to each other. To be polite to those without that shared experience, they'd most likely throw in the comment: 'That means I was a 'logistics marine' to the rest of you guys'. I guess my real point is, what was your MOS and actual duties? Be as arcane as you like, and go into incredible detail! I'm like a giggly schoolboy for all that military talk!

Bugger. In my entire time on this forum I don't think I have ever seen one military type ask another one what his MOS was and get back anything other than something so arcane and specific that us non-military types might as well have been trying to crack code when we tried to follow it. 'Logistics Marine'? Nidan, lad, should I understand by this that all the time that buggers like you and Berli were asked your MOS, you could simply have said something like: I did Marine stuff involving mortars, or: I was a Marine guy with a rifle?

Eh, here's a joke, eh? Fellow walks into a pub in Belfast with a plastic bag under his arms. The bartender asks "What's that?" "Six pounds of semtex", he answers. "Thanks be to Jaysus; I thought it was a bodhrán!" Man, I love percussion jokes...

Oh, and Bugged? Why are you still awake? I know you're gone west there, in Canada, but even there it's extremely late...

Oh, don't worry about that. The time you spend reading posts here you'll never get back. And attention span? If you actually read some of the posts here, you'll have shown a longer attention span than those who wrote them... Too late. You're already soiled. You might as well stop dabbling a toe, and simply plunge in. Some day we plan to do an entire Peng Challenge Thread Opera, complete with dancers and big production numbers and such. Good on you, lass! Try and put the heel right into Grog Dorosh's nose! You've gotta love a woman who'll do a spin kick right into Dorosh's face!

Actually, what I've noticed most about news out of Iraq is that the Marines have been foremost in their pursuit of 'winning hearts and minds', while the Army has been far more heavy-handed. After all, we've won the war in Iraq, eh? According to the CiC, we won it a couple of years ago. Now we're trying to win the Peace. When your enemy no longer wears a uniform, or fields organized forces, then it's not fire missions, assaults and search-and-destroy, it's about who can gain and maintain the peace without creating new enemies. In such circumstances. the better the training and the less cock-posturing, the more likely victory will be. After all, we went there to free the Iraqis, didn't we? And now they're free. The mission should be to keep them free, not 'kicking the fecking snot out of them'. So, since 'Mission Accomplished', the real question amongst the Services is: Who's doing a better job of ensuring peace in Iraq? I've read some very good articles about how the Marines are fighting the Insurgents, while respecting the people we went over there to free. I only knew a few Marines before joining this Forum, and they were pretty good people, in general. I've seen a lot more of them since I started posting here, and I was rather more impressed than I thought I would be. But frankly, GasMask, your comments are belligerent, arrogant, and, well...kinda stupid. I don't think that's your intent, but I also don't think you're representing the Corps well. Maybe try getting to know people here before you posture and throw ****e at them. There's a lot of Marines here, many of them vets from Viet Nam on. Pride is one thing. Arrogant belligerence is another. And not everyone here has been in the service, either. Every one of us posts as an individual, but those who've served their country also posts as a representative of that service. When you post as a Marine, you're also posting to a lot of people who haven't served. Marines are still holding ground in Iraq, and they're doing so as the reps of America. What I've read and heard from friends is, they're doing a good job at that. And when you post here as a Marine, you're posting as a rep of your Service. Take the chip off, and do a good job here, as well.