Papa Khann

Of course. And it does occasionally happen. Not against the likes of you, naturally, but when I'm pitted against someone of cunning and intelligence, like, um (glances desperately around the Peng thread)... never mind. In accordance with your (last) wishes, I have prepared a 1500 pt. meeting engagement and forwarded the file to you. I command the glorious forces of Panzer Armee Khann, arrayed upon the field of battle in all their might and splendor. Being naught but a vassal of the rotten British, I figured you'd be most comfortable playing as a vassal of the rotten British, so you get Canadians. Papa

Now lord knows I'm not going to stick up for Joe here. The bastiche owes me a turn. Plus, he is Joe. But I just have to say it... Now we have the guy from Akron calling the guy from Utah boring? Because of where he lives!?! What's next? Cockroaches calling mosquitoes pests? Pots calling kettles black? Australians calling Canadians degenerates? Papa P.S. Boo-Rattly, I've concluded the setup for the tutorial Panzer Armee Khann will be giving you on "How to Spend Tonight In Ami's Clean Sheets". The file is on its way to you.

Oh dear me. Oh my. Whats that you say? I've gone and uttered something Boot-Radley claims is unsubstantiated! And I've done it in, of all places, the CessPool! Call the CIA (Coalition of Idiots in Akron) immediately, Boo, I'm sure they'll want to get right on this. Oh thats right, you're the Coalition spokesthing, aren't you? Reading your last post, I was under the impression you had vomited. All over your keyboard. If so, it might explain the torrent of effluvium you've issued. It's a nice comfy recliner, thankyou very much. Sigh. I had hoped to resolve our little differences amiably, dear Boo-Hoo, but now I see I'm wasting my time trading posts with a dunderpate like you. You leave me no choice but to rise up in righteous wrath and unleash the merciless minions of Panzer Armee Khann upon your unfortunate Akronite butt. You will learn to fear the not-so-tender ministrations of my superior tactical awareness, Boo-Rattly, you shall learn indeed. If you are up to this CHALLENGE (which I very much doubt), I shall grant you a moment to collect your thought (singular) and consider what terms you should like to observe for our duel. Papa [ July 01, 2002, 03:01 PM: Message edited by: Papa Khann ]

From the lips of the master apple-polisher himself. Papa

Yes, Seanachai, its very hot and humid here in Minnesota. However, I DO have AC, and so have been spared the hideous and hopefully impermanent damage that has obviously affected that loose collection of molecules you call a brain. Papa

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I honestly don't remember that. Then again, even if I did, thats still what I'd say. Then again, how can I (or anyone else, for that matter) be expected to remember anything Boo-Boo says? Papa

And this changes my status as general Pool whipping boy and night toy to what? General Pool whipping boy, night toy, AND dalem's personal chamber pot toter? Just wondering. Papa P.S. Does this mean I have to get back in The Box?

My dear Boo-Hoo, if the little world inside that lump of suet you find sitting roughly three feet above your butt each morning was part of the modern world, you would know that technical writers don't write anything anymore. It takes too much time. What we actually do is copy and paste random sections of existing manuals together, change the odd word here or there, run it through a spell (but not context) checker, then pronounce that it "feels like its cooked about right". Then we present our clients with a bill. If you've ever wondered why instruction manuals are so difficult to comprehend, its because sometimes we get bored and start pulling sections out of books that are in no way related to the topic at hand. For instance, say we want to describe the steps a user must follow to successfully install a new piece of hardware in their computer. Odds are, the text for that would come from a Toaster Repair manual, or perhaps from an essay on Oral Hygiene. Why, if I'm careful about which words I change, I can use almost anything! In fact, Boo-Boom, I'm considering reworking that last post of yours into a series of numbered steps for a surgical hair replacement method. (Joe has been asking for some information on that.) Papa P.S. I'm sure members of your pod possess "chromasomes". In my family, we've been sticking with "chromosomes". [ June 30, 2002, 08:51 PM: Message edited by: Papa Khann ]

Since everything has been said and done before (especially anything you think you've come up with, R_Leete), I never feel that I plagiarize when I steal. Or is it that I never feel I steal when I plagiarize? Papa

Not fair for you to ask that of the other Poolers, Boo-Berry. I doubt many of them have a noggin as flat as yours. (In Joe's case, I suspect it comes to a point. His head, that is, certainly not his inane ramblings.) Touché. Repeat after me. Web Cam.... Web Cam. Actually, the only sad thing I find in this thread is the longing I detect in your last retort. Go on, admit it. You want to watch mildew form on AussieJeff, don't you? I'm certainly not going to stick up for "The Body". Then again, at least you knew who he was. Hulk Hogan and Mary Tyler Moore too. Who the h*ll represents or is from Akron? Here, let me make out a list for you: 1) Well, there you have it. Since you have the abject misfortune to be an Akronite, and are stupid enough to admit it, maybe you can come up with someone. I doubt it though. The best I can possibly do is a strained reference to the Cuyahoga River in Randy Newman's "Burn On". Even though he is actually singing about Cleveland, you're close to Cleveland, so I might, just MIGHT, mind you, give you that one. Of course, the lyric insinuates that Cleveland must be a real rat hole for the river to catch fire. But at least it puts you on the map. (Lord g*d almighty, to be in your shoes, Boob-Radley, and have to aspire to the likes of Cleveland. I almost feel sorry for you. Almost. You git.) Papa

Was that the first installment of a multipart reply or something? Where is the wit? Where is the personal insult? Where is the slightest indication that Pavlov didn't reject you as too stupid to use in his experiments? If I'm going to unleash Panzer Armee Khann upon you so that you can learn a thing or two from my superior tactical awareness, you're going to have to provide at least a minute amount of provocation. Papa

My dear Boo-Brain, your boys may be "doughty". Mine are "dowdy". And yes, I am aware of the difference. Deal with it. (At least thats my story and I'm sticking to it.) I can hardly blame you for spending your afternoon thumbing about in your Merriam-Webster though. After all, you do live in Akron. What in blazes else would do with your time? This explains the entertainment whore thing. For you, anything better than watching mildew form on AussieJeff must be enthralling. And before you jump on the fact that I live in ManyApplesLess, as some of you gits are so fond of calling it, I'll readily admit that my town may not be the hub of excitement for the free world. However, when compared to Akron, (for love of the Maker, Akron) it sure the h*ll feels like it is. Papa

Trying ringing a little bell and eating a pretzel every time you remember to do it right (you should need only a very small bag of pretzels). Using this technique, Pavlov was able to work wonders with dogs. And dogs can't be all that much smarter than you. Papa

It might be quicker if you only list those few things you can remember, AussieJeff. Papa

Quick update of ongoing games. Game 1 Scenario: - Jabos! Force Allotments: - The glorious forces of the Fatherland, arrayed in all their power and splendor (well, what is left of them, anyway), Me. - The pathetic alliance of wayward Yankees, refugees, and the Coalition of Wal-Mart Greeters, Joe Shaw. Turns 9 and 10: Oh h*ll, why bother? I'm TOAST. Absolutely TOAST. Reduced to finishing the game just so I don't have to listen to Joe whine about how I wouldn't drive my last panzer around on the battlefield so he could shoot at it some more. Oh the shame. Game 2 Scenario: - Trun Force Allotments: - The glorious forces of the Fatherland, arrayed in all their power and splendor, Me. - {general sounds of me ROFLMAO} Canadians! Can you believe it!?! Canadians!!... R_Leete. Turn 1: I have one decent support asset. R_Leete uses a very crafty technique. So crafty in fact that IMHO, it bordered on cheating. He shot lots of stuff at it. It got whacked. Things were shaping up to be not so good. Turn 2: R_Leete informed me that his parents would allow him to stay up until 9 p.m. this evening, so we switched to TCP/IP. Turns 3-15: R_Leete attempted to demonstrate just how amazingly advantageous it is to send squad after squad of infantry into the teeth of a defensive position carefully constructed by my superior tactical awareness. Fortunately for me, he failed to notice that it was advantageous for me, not for him. He then tried to compensate for his inept use of infantry by demonstrating parade ground manuvers with his armor. Way to go, R_Leete. Drive those AFVs right up to the anti-tank teams. Sooner or later, one will get through and squash the dowdy young Huns under the tracks. Next time, why not put down the beer and pretzels and try using the big pointy thing sticking out of the turret? Honestly, R_Leete, I asked you to play as the Canadians during this scenario. Not to play as if you were a Canadian. Outcome: R_Leete falls to my superior tactical awareness as Panzer Armee Khann scores a Major Victory. R_Leete, I have prepared the setup file for our rematch. It is on its way to you. Papa

Well, when have you ever? And I should think, my dear Boo-Boo, that you would be used to letdowns by now. Hasn't your entire miserable little excuse for a life been nothing but one big letdown? Still, I am not utterly without pity (except where AussieJeff is concerned). Since you seem to crave my attention so much, I shall take this opportunity to thank you for ruining what used to be a perfectly wonderful film for me. Now every time I watch it, I'll be compelled to think of some silly git (that's you, in case you're wondering) instead of Robert Duvall during this snippet of dialog: "Well, judging from his tracks, he's about six and a half feet tall. He eats raw squirrels, and all the cats he can catch. There's a long, jagged scar that runs all the way across his face. His teeth are yellow and rotten. His eyes are popped. And he drools most of the time." Now I'm not saying it isn't accurate. After all, YOU chose it. I'm just saying it'll probably ruin the film for me. Papa

Not "Barney". But perhaps "Blarney". Papa

My point exactly! Had you an ounce of creativity coursing through those hypodermic riddled, vericose, bacon bit clogged obscenities you call "veins", you might have come up with something a wee tad more original Boo-Boo. Now don't force me to fire up Panzer Armee Khann and unleash my superior tactical awareness upon you. {redneck mode}For if'n I do, you'll be a turnin' as pale as your namesake.{/redneck mode} Papa

... mumble, mumble... Get away from me! I don't want to take a vacation!! [ June 28, 2002, 02:27 PM: Message edited by: Papa Khann ]

... mumble, mumble .... SOD OFF, the lot of ya. [ June 28, 2002, 02:24 PM: Message edited by: Papa Khann ]

Thats different. Mine was bestowed on me. I could no more shake it now than I could turn myself into a pumpkin. And no, it has nothing to do with Indian Cricket (the sport nor the insect). So before the lot of you degenerates go there, I may as well just save you the energy. Even you ponces can't possibly outdo reality on this one. The nickname was bestowed on me by a roomfull of overgrown boys aged 40 - 55, each of whom: - greatly admires and LUSTS after tiny, colorfully painted lead figures cast in the likeness of soldiers from the medieval era - rarely sobers up - is AT LEAST 30 to 40 lbs overweight (not that there is anything wrong with that, but read further) - was heavily engaged in admiring my newly painted Mongol army - realized more or less collectively with the others (they do that, I think they're some sort of hive mind or something) that "Papa Khann" rythmes with "Chaka Khann" - rose up out of his seat (no small feat, mind you) and started not only to sing the d*mn song, (substituting the word "Papa" for "Chaka") but to DANCE There. Satisfied? Oh, the ungodly visage of those enormous beer bellies wriggling. The horror! THE HORROR!! Papa P.S. Now that I've dredged up those lovely images, its back to therapy for me for sure. And Panzer Leader, I blame you. I'm having my analyst forward you the bills. D*mn you, Panzer Leader, I'll get you for this if its the last thing I ever do! [ June 28, 2002, 02:25 PM: Message edited by: Papa Khann ]

AussieJeff, the various agents, toadies, school-yard bullies, tattletales, confidence men, stoolies, and other assorted minions in my employ have long since hunted down and destroyed all likenesses of myself. To your great dismay, I'm sure. You perverted, nefarious, dirty old man! Didn't I already say that I'm NOT going to wear tights for you? Aren't the boy magazines Joe ships to you and your Aussie cronies each month enough to placate you? Papa P.S. What is that scraping sound I hear in the background? No, it's not the familiar cacophony of popping and clicking that normally accompanies an AussieJeff post. This is somewhat different. Could it be that the putrid old sot is attempting to reclaim whats left of his courage and self-respect? I believe it may be! He is trying to dislodge it from the bottom of its barrel with a squeegee!! Question is, should he manage to pry the congealed matter up, what would he do with it? Could this mean a CHALLENGE is forthcoming? Nah. Can't be. He'll never retrieve enough of it for that. More likely he'll issue another post filled with his Australian wisdom (i.e. mindless drivel). Too bad. I would have enjoyed driving him around the courtyard of that maximum security compound his keepers have no doubt incarcerated him in (tied to the rear axle of my PSW 234/1, that is).

Gee, who would accuse you of being an entertainment whore when you couldn't even come up with a forum "handle" without ripping off one of the greatest books/films ever (IMHO, of course). Papa

Go tend to your e-mail thingy, so that I may commence to rain horrific blows about thine ears. Papa