Seanachai

So far as I've been able to determine by long, deep, and searching conversation, there is no perversion you wouldn't descend to.

I was almost the next Pope. You're a big big vile freak, and you're going to Hell. Well, you asked!

Bugger, just heard about HerrSpkr's impending change of status. Here's a jolly singsong going out to him to show the way... In 1649 To St George's Hill A ragged band they called the Diggers Came to show the people' s will They defied the landlords They defied the laws They were the dispossessed Reclaiming what was theirs We come in peace, they said To dig and sow We come to work the land in common And to make the waste land grow This earth divided We will make whole So it can be A common treasury for all. The sin of property We do disdain No one has any right to buy and sell The earth for private gain By theft and murder They took the land Now everywhere the walls Rise up at their command. They make the laws To chain us well The clergy dazzle us with heaven Or they damn us into hell We will not worship The God they serve The God of greed who feeds the rich While poor men starve We work, we eat together We need no swords We will not bow to masters Or pay rent to the lords We are free men Though we are poor You Diggers all stand up for glory Stand up now From the men of property The orders came They sent the hired men and troopers To wipe out the Diggers' claim Tear down their cottages Destroy their corn They were dispersed - Only the vision lingers on You poor take courage You rich take care The earth was made a common treasury For everyone to share All things in common All people one We come in peace The order came to cut them down The World Turned Upside Down -Leon Rosselson Welcome, brother. Never fear, lad. We shan't shun you; rather, we shall show your children how to make a way in the face of the apathy and antipathy of the monied classes. Spkr, you are with us, and we won't see your wife reduced to selling herself to tobacco-chewing Texas workingmen to feed her children and keep another reduced lawyer from debtor's prison!

But his Will is a will of iron. Oh, yeah? Well, I've been a Pretender to Monarchy, a False God, a Papal Candidate, and I'm still a Bard and Olde One. And you're not jack, either, you Danish with prunes! Get stuffed. And stop thinking of me when I was young with that drawl of longing in your voice. You're getting married next Spring. It's unseemly for a Squarehead of your age and disposition to start suddenly wondering if he should have pitched for the other team. Hey, could you ask Shari to briefly velcro 'them' back on next weekend so that we can get together at Dalem's for some movies and/or gaming?

If that was an accurate representation, I'd be holding a brunette...

Whenever I leave Dalem's, I listen to really loud French music on the car stereo. It seems to help with the drive home. And I'd call Rleete a 'male chicken vacuum device', but the truth is, Roger, that when you're being all cranky and in a dudgeon, you're damn cute. Gie us a kiss, you big big Upper State New York bugger! I've taken extra special care that no ridden up, bunched bits o' cotton will come between yer lips, and the smooth, svelte surface of my fawn-like bum. I know, I know...when it all looks so appealing, you don't know where to begin. Will it help if I tell you: I love you, man! [ April 23, 2005, 06:13 AM: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

As she fell face-down into the muck of the mud-wrestling pit, her sweaty, three-hundred-pound opponent muttering soft curses in Latin on top of her, Sister Marie thought, 'there is no doubt about it: the Pope has betrayed me!' From the Bulwer-Lytton contest

'Boys' being the operative word...

I think I saw this movie...

And you're too damn old. Take your own advice, Mr. Bitter Olde Man. </font>

So, how are your knees? Hate, Ales </font>

LIES! LIES, TREACHERY, AND BETRAYAL! ONE DAY I WILL CLEANSE THE CHURCH WITH FIRE AND SWORD! Tee-hee. That's obligatory, so that my hands are seen to be clean. I can wait the promised 4-6 months (any shorter a time period, and people are going to start noticing how quick the 'expected' candidates kack) for my Ascendance. Look for Herr Ratzinger to suffer something like a myocardial infarction or devastating stroke shortly...

Ahhh, that's nice, now, isn't it? That seems very nice. Shut the feck up. You're too fecking young to have anything good to say about anything. So just shut the feck up. Frankly, I 've known Joe Shaw longer than you've been re-ingesting your own vomit. I've known Old Foul Joe since the beginning. The Beginning? That's when Peng, Berli and I welcomed Joe onto this Thread, because we realized his potential. We realized that he'd keep nasty little wankers like you in line. So, suck it up. Piss off. And never, ever, feck with the Justicar. WE might mock him, abuse him, and belittle him. But you puddles of piss? Frankly, if I had a pet that attempted to get a leg up on the Justicar, I'd have the damn thing put to sleep. We may mock the Justicar, but that's only because we understand the Justicar. And you lot? Most of your understand nothing...

Hey, ass, go stuff it. </font>

The Commonwealth didn't have any real MGs. Just the Vickers and the Bren...

Nothing stirs up the Thread like dissent, intrigue, divided loyalties, Machiavellian scheming, the male/female dichotomy, religious schism, angst, death, pathos, and Gay Belgians. As God is my witness (and, once I'm Pope, I'll have his freaking affidavit on file), I'm happy!

Hey, Joe, what about this one? I mean, we could just make him a Knight, right?

Joe, I abase myself in my contrition. No, wait. I mean, I abase myself by my contrition! Damn you! Damn you, you stern, but fair, and quite possibly insane, Justicar! Is my every whim, caprice, and moment of lunacy constantly to come under your scrutiny? Will I never be allowed to dance in the moonlight of my madness? I accept this fair, but soddingly annoying check to the unbridled exercise of my power. Sturmy, lad, it's not on! You're going to have to go the whole, Tony-Curtis-as-a-slave-boy route to Knighthood. But SturmSebber, there's no reason for you to be a Serf. Under the benevolent rule of Pope Seanachai I, you may start as an 'altar boy', work up to acolyte, and then finally become a Knight. Okay, that doesn't make any freaking real sense, but Joe has put me completely off my game.

Lost again did you? </font>

WE are ruled by the dictates of whim. </font>

Oh, look, Joe! Look at those big, limpid eyes! Look at that expression of longing, and the quivering of that lip! Clearly the Power of the Justicariate can't simply accede to his elevation to Knighthood. But couldn't we jump him up to Squire? I mean, he's pretty jumped up as it is! I mean, look what he's doing to Boo's leg! Joe, I know it's wrong of me to simply want to make him a Knight. But when an outrageously gay Belgian with flashing blue eyes follows you home, and starts trying to do the nasty mambo with Cardinal Boo's leg...well, you can see how I'd want to keep him, don't you? But I await the decision of the Justicariate. The Olde Ones, of course, are above all mortal concerns and judgments. We are ruled, simply, by the dictates of Fate, the need to Open the Way so that the Folk may Create the World, and the imperative of Who the Bottle Passes to Next. But I, Steven Hunter Pemble, the Seanachai, await the decision of the Justicar. Oh, look! He's got a really good grip! Who'll give me odds on whether Boo can get away without soiled pants?

Man, that was just cold! When you can snatch the hatred from my hand, Grog Dorosh, it will be time for you to leave...

I have a black belt in Lemur! Believe me, you don't ever, ever want to make me angry, and face the Monkey Death Grip of Shrieking, Big-Eyed, Long-Tailed, ****e Flinging Dance of Death!

Ignore them, Ales. I find your weirdness strangely refreshing...

Your constant abuse only underscores how much you envy me...