Papa Khann
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Posts posted by Papa Khann
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I will pick up your gauntlet, though I reserve the right to hold the reeking thing as far away from my nose as I may.
Papa
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Check your clothes. Check your holey sneakers. Try bathing. Because I'll believe that you smelled anything other than yourself, AssMaster, on the day I ask to hear another "jolly sing-song" from SomeNachos.Originally posted by athkatla:I knew there was something fishy about that one, even stated it when she/he/it first appeared, with my famous words, " I smell a rat".
Papa
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And so it goes.Originally posted by Roxy:I'm sorry guys, but:
{serious}At least you have the courage and integrity to step forward and say what you have to say. I for one hold no grudge.{/serious}
Nooo!! NOOOOOOO!!!!! My head, my head!!!Is it time for a little sing/song now?
Papa
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Or a "warm" drop. Or even a "drop". And not because of the demonic insinuation you seemed to be trying to make either, you stinking "olde" cadaver.Originally posted by Berlichtingen:I, sir, am the soul of kindness. Why, there is not a mean drop of blood in my veins.
Papa
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BwwaaaHaaaHaaHa!! "Prolific writers", yeah that's a good one! It's sort of like calling every high school dropout (or even R_Late) with paint in hand and a bus shelter in front of them another "Michelangelo" waiting to be discovered, but at least it made me laugh. Out loud even.Originally posted by Roxy:Wow! You guys are prolific writers.
May as well. Lord knows everyone else in here does.I have much to address here if I may be so bold.
Don't mind Joe. He's just old. And cranky. And very old. Did I mention that Joe was old? And cranky?I have a file from M. Dorosh, but he will have to wait while I tidy up this castle a bit more.
Joe Shaw,
I'm not sure if your apology was meant for me or Berlichtingen. I never felt I needed one from you. It's alright to be a meany when you have such noble reasons for being that way. Let me say again, the manner in which you promptly cleaned up some early posts to this thread was admirable. It was one of the main reasons I could no longer resist getting involved in this very strange and exciting place.
For the love of all that is still good and pure in the universe, please, I beg of you, DO NOT encourage SomeNachos. If you do, he'll clog the MBT with his infernal "jolly sing-songs" until my head explodes.Seanachai,
So you are an Olde One. That pleases me. As you have given me the choice of "Squire" or "Lady in Waiting" to theLady Persephone, I choose the latter. "Lady in Waiting" shall be my signature.
Quite a rousing post you made earlier. I suspect there is a lot of truth to it too. The "outer boards" as you say, are a bit daunting to a lady. I feel I would eventually have suffocated out there from all the attention. Too much of a good thing is...well, too much.
Not that I think a single one of you deranged lot would mind watching my head explode. In fact, I'm sure most of you would pay handsomely for such a priviledge. I can envision all your inbred, slack-jawed faces now (shudder), arriving for the gala event with popcorn and kazoos and all manner of party paraphernalia. You gits. I hate you all so much. You can all sod off now. Thank you.
{serious}Roxy, as for your feeling "too" welcome here or in the outer boards, my heart goes out to you. I hope here you can feel like just another Pooler.{/serious}
BeerGut wields vast amounts of something with an iron hand. Personally, I've always suspected it was alcohol. If you think it's power, well, that's up to you. Then again you don't strike me as overly bright. You did mention "weight" in the same paragraph as BurrBrain though, so maybe there's some hope for you.Berlichtingen,
I suspect you are an Olde One also. You seem to wield a vast amount of power here, and with an iron hand. You are the counterweight to the kind Seanachai. This is indeed a fascinating place.
You were showing some real promise there, Roxy. Then you go and say something like that? Not even Mike says things that daft. And Mike strikes me as someone who's been shunned by morons for fear of giving them a bad name.snippage of some blathering on about this and that
I have unquestioning faith in your good judgment.
dalem fancies himself an entity unto himself these days. He threw away everything... rank, career, the future... and for what? (Opps, sorry, started channeling Donald Pleasance again.)more snippage
Dalem
"versilocution"-I need a better dictionary.
At any rate, dalem aspires to obtain knowledge of true hatred, and as part of his quest has cast off his title, his holdings, and his squire (namely, me). To date his progress has been slow (read, nonexistant). On a brighter note, the bitterness I now feel towards the lackwit has inspired me to best him on the CM battlefield. Not that I needed any particular inspriation to throttle him senseless. Given dalem's hollow posturing and overwhelming inepitude, I'd rate his overall play at the level of mildew. He is currently licking his wounds and plotting his "revenge".
dalem, where is my setup? You ponce.
Papa
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Boo-Boo, you sure you heard a voice? You did say you were moving. And I'll bet that aged sack of calcified bones and sagging meat you call a body makes all sorts of weird noises when you're not dormant.Originally posted by Boo_Radley:Anybody here know of any good support groups, because I sincerely think I'm in need of one.
Oh, sorry. You probably want a little back story first.
I was upstairs working on a 34mm piece of citrine I'm cutting and got up to go downstairs to replenish my wine glass.
(and no, this is not about a drinking problem. I don't happen to have a drinking problem. I drink. I get drunk. I fall down. No problem. Anyhoo...)
As I'm going down the stairs I hear this obnoxiously chipper voice go...I don't even know if I can repeat it...OK, here goes (gulp)... <big>"CRIKEY!"</BIG> Oh God, that hurt.
Papa
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<big><big> DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!</BIG></BIG>Originally posted by Boo_Radley:</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Papa Khann:
I may head to the high bridge with a revolver (so I can shoot myself on the way down).
Papa
I'd pay good money to see that. I'd even videotape it so I could sell copies to the other 'Poolers. Maybe even sell T-shirts; "I saw Pepe take the final dive with a one gun salute."
Could be neat.</font>
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Since none of you have anything remotely interesting to say, I propose that it is once again time for some gamiest of gamey updates:
Pantless Leader: Has finally submitted to my superior tactical awareness and has been vanquished. The fact that the computer thought is was a DRAW (and awarded him more points than me, actually) is irrelevant. I proclaim myself victor based upon the fact that Pantless pulled rank on me and made me play the bleeding Ami's!
Nobutt: Seems preoccupied with running his few remaining Canuckians about the 4 corners of the map in an attempt to prolong the inevitable. Why don't you just surrender so I can start steamrolling you in fresh surroundings?
SomeNachos: Has finally begun to feel the bite of my superior infantry tactics. This is good, since the lucky git has already crushed my so-called armor like empty pop cans.
Boo_Rattly: Aren't you supposed to be the attacker in this QB, Boo-Boo? If I promise not to shoot at you for two turns will you at least try to move your remaining troops forward? I swear, you attack like a girl. Or worse yet, dalem. Speaking of whom...
dalem: Having had the recent misfortune to meet dalem outside of the Pool, I can say that alas, his quest for true hatred is not going so well. In fact, it appears to be dead.
He walked in wearing a white robe with a beer in one hand (commendable, but not exactly exuding hatred) and a fistful of pansies in the other. He then proceeded to pass out flowers and hugs to all present (I saw the git coming and managed to duck him, so what I'm really saying is that he hugged everyone else) and proclaiming himself the prophet of the New Church of Peach (I think he may have meant "Peace", but he was slurring his words pretty bad).
Fortunately this sordid affair was cut short when the father of a sixteen year old girl called the police and had dalem carted away. Apparently our newly proclaimed prophet had been attempting to show the youngster his new "Children of Peach Unit" tattoo (again, I think he may have meant "Children of Peace Unite", though I'm really not sure).
Oh yeah, the game. His troops appear to take their inspiration from dalem's new persona. They march blindly forward into the teeth of my carefully prepared defensive positions, spouting words of pacifism and tranquility. I almost feel bad watching movies of them being mowed down. Almost.
Joe Shaw: We've begun another scenario. To say that the current situation regarding "the record" (no, R_Late, not the kind of record for which you were required to spend your preteen years in the delinquent boys home) has me vexed and perplexed is an understatement. If I lose a third in a row to Joe (to freaking Joe, for the love of Pete!!!) I may head to the high bridge with a revolver (so I can shoot myself on the way down).
Papa
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Bravo. Tis a fine idea, young man. A tad overdue, but still a fine idea.Originally posted by Mike:snippage of Mike's usual blather
...I'll shoot myself first.
If you're in need of assistance, by all means sound off. In place of a blindfold, I'm sure Boo would be willing to loan you the paper sack he normally covers his mug with. And if I weren't afraid of being trampled to death under the cloven hooves of the rest of the Poolers, I'd sprint to your side and snatch the firearm from you so I could pull the trigger myself.
Papa
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OH THE HUMANITY!!! Not only to lose, but to lose to the bleeding French!Originally posted by Joe Shaw:Say there Papa Khann, while you're on your quest for full disclosure ... isn't there something you'd like to share with the lads here?
Joe
Oh the humilation. Not only to lose, but to lose to the bleeding French run by none other than Joe!!
Oh the horror. Not only to lose, but to lose to Joe's bleeding French 90 to 10!!
Quick, someone find me something tall from which to fling my worthless carcass.
The proper term is vestment, Boo-Boo. And you can genuflect and kiss my.... ring.Originally posted by Boo_Radley:NO! <BIG>NO! <BIG>NO!</BIG></BIG> ARRRGGGHHH! My eyes!
Close your robe Pepe. For the love of all that's still good and beautiful in the universe, close your robe!
Papa
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What's with this "my squire" stuff? When you cast off the "oppressive yoke of excessive rules" you tossed me back into the pool with the disdain of a butcher tossing gristle into the "hamburger" pile. Now you want Pondscum to tidy up the mess you've made? I thought you were doing all this to pursue a quest for enlightenment on the art of hatred? Well, that lasted about a day and a half. You've gone soft, old man. Next you'll be handing out pansies and wishing that we could all just "get along" with each other. Disgusting.Originally posted by dalem:Ahh, thank you, but when I cast off the oppressive yoke of excessive rules I freed my squire from his quest. He is equally free to abide by his previous stricture should he wish. I trust that Pondscum will shepherd him well as I gad about the dewey morning grass of the MBT, wearing white and feeling secure in the guarded embrace of not just dots and quilts, but wings as well.
No doubt the drubbing I'm dishing out to you in our QB is taking a toll on your devotion to the quest. Lord knows it's got to be hard to hate with the proper vigor while stunned and bewildered by my superior tactial awareness. However, if you're going to continue this alleged quest for hatred, how about surprising the heck out of us and doing something unexpected, like oh say, spewing a little venom every now and then?
What do you say, flower boy?
Papa
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"Disgusting and vile" could make him more interesting though. Then again, what wouldn't?Originally posted by Seanachai:snippage of yet more blathering on
Mike is perfectly welcome to come in here and hate us. This is, after all, the place for it. Please note that although he's usually not very interesting, he isn't excessively abusive or vulgar, does not attempt to disrupt the Thread of threads, other than throwing pop bottles from the stands, and hasn't indulged in any sort of disgusting or vile behaviour, other than disliking us, and who could blame him.
Papa
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You're right, Lard, I must have gone completely daft. Maybe it's time for my medication. To think that I assumed Boo-Boo was capable of implying that the girl was pretty by making an association with her surroundings. Obviously, this is ludicrous. Boo isn't subtle enough to employ tableware while feeding (much less to masticate his tripe with his mouth closed). What was I thinking?Originally posted by Lars:Papa, you simpleton, Boo said the country was pretty, not Molly.
I mean really, Boo dating a pretty girl?
Well, unless she was blind. Or drunk. Or in a wheelchair.
Or blind drunk in a wheelchair, which would explain why she couldn't get away.
Papa
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Let me guess, Boo-Boo. In your language, "mighty pretty" means she could walk using only her hind legs?Originally posted by Boo_Radley:I dated a "Molly Coddle" once. Told me she'd been born outside of wedlock. Mighty pretty country around there.
Papa
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SomeNachos, if it isn't too much trouble, maybe you could take a break from your labor of the day?Originally posted by Seanachai:It was lovely, too. Less than 30 seconds into turn one and a Wespe is converted into a scenic monument, replete with plaque, on top of a hill.
Some 800+ meters, and the Wespe even got off the first shot.
Pigeons were already settling on it as the turn ended, and I could clearly hear the curses of the surviving crew as they dodged away from the vehicle, zig-zagging between workmen moving in to erect park benches nearby. It's anticipated that the scenic overlook will eventually be named 'Seanachai's Victory'.
By "labor of the day" I of course refer to writing your acceptance speech, all the while skipping merrily to and fro before your bedroom mirror, proudly adorned in your new "tails". (Incidentally, award recipients at gala events normally refer to tuxedos as "tails". Not that pair of squirrel butts you've stapled to the seat of your overalls.)
Because if you could see fit to pause in your fantasy about being appointed chief military adviser to the president of France, then maybe you'd have time to SEND ME THE NEXT FREAKING TURN, you git.
Papa
PS
Reposted this here. I think the other thread was supposed to be locked but unfortunately for all of us Pantless Leader was out of his cage again (Was it my turn to watch him? If so, sorry folks).
By the way, Pantless, according to me, the last turn I received from you was at 9:43 am on 7/21. I sent you a turn back, at 12:20 pm that same day.
Try clicking on that thingie called the "Inbox". Or if you must camouflage your ignorance, fall back on the 'ol Joe Shaw line... "this internet thing is all confused and stuff"... and ask me to resend it.
[ July 25, 2002, 03:19 PM: Message edited by: Papa Khann ]
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SomeNachos, if it isn't too much trouble, maybe you could take a break from your labor of the day?Originally posted by Seanachai:It was lovely, too. Less than 30 seconds into turn one and a Wespe is converted into a scenic monument, replete with plaque, on top of a hill.
Some 800+ meters, and the Wespe even got off the first shot.
Pigeons were already settling on it as the turn ended, and I could clearly hear the curses of the surviving crew as they dodged away from the vehicle, zig-zagging between workmen moving in to erect park benches nearby. It's anticipated that the scenic overlook will eventually be named 'Seanachai's Victory'.
By "labor of the day" I of course refer to writing your acceptance speech, all the while skipping merrily to and fro before your bedroom mirror, proudly adorned in your new "tails". (Incidentally, award recipients at gala events normally refer to tuxedos as "tails". Not that pair of squirrel butts you've stapled to the seat of your overalls.)
Because if you could see fit to pause in your fantasy about being appointed chief military adviser to the president of France, then maybe you'd have time to SEND ME THE NEXT FREAKING TURN, you git.
Papa
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Joe, have you been fading in and out of consciousness again?Originally posted by Joe Shaw:You're right about one thing and wrong about another ... so all in all your average has improved significantly.
You are quite correct that all I need do in order to defeat you is press GO repeatedly.
You are quite INcorrect in that I sent turn 26 on the 12th and have seen NO REPLY from you! Naturally I hoped you'd been hit by a bus or something and would be returning to the CessPool no earlier than NEVER. Imagine my disappointment when you surfaced like one of the really large chunks that DO surface here in the CessPool from time to time.
Joe
I received no such turn from you until this evening. Your obvious ploy to send the turn today and claim that you had sent it earlier but "internet difficulties" kept it from arriving simply won't wash this time. Unless of course you're referring to your inability to focus on the "Send" button as an "internet difficulty".
Papa
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Since none of you have anything interesting to say, I thought I'd grace your puny brains with these gamiest of gamey updates.
R_Late: Has been vanquished by the minions of Panzer Armee Khann. Again. Now he wants another game. I swear the boy is like a broken record. I throttle him and he chirps "Do it again, Papa". (Come to think of it, R_Late scares me.)
Boo_Rattly: Is being vanquished by the minions of Panzer Armee Khann. At least he's taking it laying down. Much easier for me that way. I don't like it when they squirm and wriggle.
NoButt: Has felt the sting of my superior tactical awareness and apparently is reeling in shock. We're 10 turns in and already he's reduced to stumbling about and mumbling odd bits about the "glory days" when he and Mace used to play ASL in a pasture using Mace's flock as Russian "mammal wave" troops.
Joe: Must have grown bored with throttling me severely because I haven't had a turn from him in many days. Joe, wake up. It's YOUR turn to hit the "GO" button.
Pantless Leader: Has decided that despite his armor laying in flames, he might as well press on with his squishy bits. Unfortunately for me, it's working.
dalem: My former Liege turned Lesion and I have just started. It's really too early to tell if the horrendous tank casulties he's suffered at the hands of my superior tactical awareness will undo him for the next 35 or so turns.
SomeNachos: The frolicking git blew up my mobile arty! You're going to pay for this, cheese boy.
If I forgot anyone, it's because you're all so very insignificant.
Papa
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My dear Boo-Boo,Originally posted by Boo_Radley:You mean sort of like you've been doing our entire game?
By the way, what exactly does "Palsied Armee Khan" (or whatever) mean, anyway? Raving Loons Whose Parents Were Siblings? Perhaps Addled Nitwits Who Play Russian Roulette With Automatics? Maybe even Candidates For This Year's Darwin Awards?
Care to enlighten us?
Meds wearing off again? Must be. How else would you manage to wrap that wet noodle you call a brain around the idea that Panzer Armee Khann was doing anything other than crushing the life out of those flower children you call troops?
Give it up, man. And no, I'm not asking for that which Mace has asked of your flock. I mean give in, er, um, oh heck just hit the blasted auto-surrender key and click 'Yes', will you? It pains me to continue to humiliate you like this. Well, ok, not really... but still.
Papa
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Did he actually say that out loud?Originally posted by athkatla:Yeah, right right right right, done it, with bells on! Now can we get back to the matter in hand.
Papa
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Nobutt, it might also help if you stopped blindly marching your Veteran squads one after the other into the the teeth of my guns. Just a thought.Originally posted by Noba:Papal Cant has somehow managed to get the computer to give him regulars, whilst giving me veteran troops. The outcome from this masterfull "manipulation" (I won't say 'cheat') of the computer pick is that I am outnumbered woefully. BTS, please fix him, or do somefink !
Noba.
Papa
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But, but... where's the beef?Originally posted by dalem:Bring it on. I shall gladly grind your bones into snuff for my dog.
You call that a taunt? You throw away everything... rank, career, the future (sorry, started channeling Donald Pleasance there)... all for the sake of hatred and that's the best taunt you can come up with?
At the very least, you could have added that you'd take the powdery remains of my bones and spread them in a barren field, then strap harnesses and plows to Mace and his flock of sheep and sow salt into the earth so that nothing green would ever grow there again. But no, you just wimpered softly then faded away. Pathetic.
I can see that not only shall I have to use the minions of Panzer Armee Khann and my superior tactical awareness to throttle you about your cauliflower ears and humped shoulders, I shall have to educate you as to the true nature of hatred.
MUHA, MUHAA, MUHAHAHAA!!!
Oh yeah, and the setup is on it's way to you.
Papa
[ July 21, 2002, 03:46 PM: Message edited by: Papa Khann ]
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WWWOOOOOOOO HHHHOOOOOOO!! I'm thinking this means no more d*mn Box for me, boyos. Hey, dalem, my Liege, gonna miss ya, babe. Just leave the keys to House Persiflage on the kitchen table, ok?Originally posted by dalem:Snippage of a long passage about this and that. In truth I can't comment on what a huge pile of drivel it likely was. It was rather long so I didn't bother to read it.
In the Long Ago Before Time, there was a bright burning core to the MBT. It had a name, and needed no worship, only acknowledgement. Its Name was Hatred, and it has been lost.
I go now to find it.
I leave behind my house, my rank, my titles, and my pride. I have no need of them. I am no kanigget, no senior kanigget, no count. I will set this iron horse free, and though Old Joe may run callin' Wi-i-i-i-ldfire!, I shall not return to the stifling tracks.
I shall roam and challenge any whom I wish, be they SSN or Olde One, and likewise will I accept challenges. I shall taunt. I shall persiflage hither and yon, and I will find that which I seek, or at least my small piece of it.
And oh yeah, while you're out roaming about in the world singing your merry tune of true hatred, why not buy a freaking capital D, ok? Or better yet, since I blame you for these infernal Box splinters I keep finding in my behind, why not allow me to enlighten you as to the true nature of hatred, you wicked, wretched, twisted old fruit.
Because I know you can't count any higher, I suggest 1500 points.
Because I know you wanted me to play nothing but Meeting Engagements, I suggest an Attack/Defend scenario or QB.
Because I shall enjoy exercising my superior tactical awareness upon you using the minions of Panzer Armee Khann, and also because I don't really care which side you like, I suggest that I play the Axis.
Once you were my Liege. Now you are a Lesion upon the name of Persiflage. And I shall skewer you for it.
What say ye?
Papa
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My Liege dalem (note to self, buy Master capital D upon attaining Knighthood and sufficient income to afford) has pronounced that I shall play only Meeting Engagements. In accordance with his wishes and your instructions, I have initiated a 1500 point QB ME. You as Allies. Me as the godless, heathen masses of Panzer Armee Khann. The file wings its way to you even now, SomeNachos.Originally posted by Seanachai:I find your lack of faith...disturbing.
Alright then, Papa Khann. I will accept a setup from you. No more than 1500 base points. Quick Battle, please, I don't wish to expend a scenario, from whatever source, on your infidel ramblings. All other conditions are yours to set.
I have withheld the full scrutiny, abuse, and...'attention' of the ÜberGnome from your aimless postings because, after all, you are a Landsmann. That shall change.
You have had your day in the sandbox, Papa Khann. Your time of poncing about with the young and the foolish is at an end.
Send me the setup. Then make your peace with whatever ludicrous entity you may worship. For I will feed you to Great Fred.
May he have mercy on your useless, pointless, and flavourless soul.
You being one of the venerable (antiquated) and experienced (arthritic) Olde Ones, I can only hope to learn from (laugh at) your, I'm sure, profound (inane) and masterful (malignant) tactical genius (tactless gabble).
Papa
Do I Challenge Peng or Wait for Roxy?
in Combat Mission Archive #4 (2002)
Posted
Where the h*ll is Elvis when we need him most?