SirReal

Of course you're wanted, Macie. I've seen the posters. I'm waiting until they increase the reward before I'm turning you in though. Michael </font>

I think 'waddle' is the word you are looking for. Boo is not pretty ever. Nor is he handsome, nor agreeable, nor pleasant looking. In fact, with all those droopy feathers sticking out his ears (in a vain attempt to conceal the hair growing there no doubt), he looks like a very old, very used, very bedraggled mop. And that's on a good day. Michael </font>

I HAD expected something MORE from a former Squire, something along the lines of, I don't know ... LOYALTY perhaps? How sharper than a serpent's tooth ... Joe </font>

Why yes ... I find that the normal sized legal pads are simply not large enough to document the transgressions of the lesser lights here and the photo of my father and grandfather (both Railroad men in West Texas) occupies a place of honor. May I presume that you post a photo of a petrie dish in a place of honor? Joe </font>

Quick! Everybody hide their sheep! He's about to blow!

Well, let's see. </font> You have goobernors in charge of little parts of your country.</font>You employ something called an ingoobernation to select, among your goobernors someone to lead you all.</font>The one you elect is not seldom a complete goob.</font>

I've finally tracked down Berli's blog . Here's an except: So like Berli, noone can doubt it's veracity.

These days are cursed. There are Olde Ones rising and sinking like dead seals on the ocean waves. There are outboarders floundering around, smacking their sloping foreheads on the obvious, wondering what to name the floating blow-up doll. And then there is I, returned from the land of Not Here. The End Is Near.

Oh, SNITCH! I thought you said something that sounds close to that. </font>

It is not the kayak that makes me a god, it merely served as the instrument of my epiphany. </font>

Lurkur, my pear arch-carbuncle! How I've not missed you! Yes, perhaps it's time to allow you to return the favor. On the other hand, I do have some rather more important things to do. I'd tell you what, but then I'd have to spend fourteen hours explaining the words to you, and I just don't have the time. Bugs & sneezes, SirReal [ June 04, 2006, 01:14 PM: Message edited by: SirReal ]

Yea, verily even into the echoiNG head Cavity of the most hideous fowls!

I see you still have that disgusting obsessive-compulsive feces-collecting hobby, Hagsnout. As I recall, you were an interesting opponent when not rooting around the rear ankles of moose. Perhaps I'll warm up on you.

Oh well, time for me to log off for the night. I'll try to improve my attendance record. Promise. I'd forgotten how easily taunted these little invertebraes are. And how much fun it is!

When did we make you a Knight? Were we drunk at the time? Why are you not on the website? Do you owe me money? Joe </font>

Of COURSE I don't owe you money. Money is a worldly thing, not fit to be discussed among gentlemen. Or ladies. I shall provide my likeness for inclusion on the electronic bulletin board you have so cunningly fashioned from little tiny tiny teeny weensie bits of electricity. On a not entirely unrelated note: I have returned.

I don't recall the exact date or time. Which is as it should be, since I was obviously delerious with happiness at the time. You, my liege, were of course stoned out of your head. Literally. I think Hortlund might have done it with some granite blocks. The website in question is a newfangled contraption which I predate. And life events prevented me from properly taunting the slimecovered garbage that flops around our feet, so alas I fell into the great timewaster known as 'life'. Well, known to some of these... people. Those grubworms probably don't recognize the concept.

Darkness falls across the land The midnight fowl is close at hand Newbies crawl in the search of scum finding none, they're just too dumb And whosoever shall be found without the wit for smacking down Must cringe and wilt from baleful stare and in Coventry stay, so best beware The foulest stench is in the air The clink of forty thousand shears And dirty sheep from Lex' house Are closing in to eat your blouse And though you fight to stay away Your fingers start to quiver for no mere Knight can resist the evil of the Peng Challenge Thread.

Disclaimer: I'm not a grog, this is from memory, orignially from a swedish army book on shaped charges. The jet will disperse in air. Liquids (for example diesel fuel) will interfere with the jet stream, "falling into" the jet stream breaking it up. Ceramics does the same, interfering with the stream (thus layered armor, Chobham etc). Ceramics are of course very hard, so they're good for blunting KE projectiles as well, but that's another story and post WW2... Being surrounded by homogenous steel is just what the stream needs to keep it's focus and keep on burning a hole in a straight line. /SirReal

Yes. Training an MG gunner takes six days. Training a sniper takes six months.

Oh, they're coördinating the strikes. That explains why the CAS works like it does. /SirReal

"they flew through the air"? Well, I suppose if the drunk weighed ten times more than the targets, and the .45 in question had a muzzle velocity at about 2000m/sec, and could deposit all that energy into a single body, then yes, that's believable. In practice, such "effects" come from bodily reactions (muscle spasms etc) and spectator imagination, and not from any magical "stopping power". The amount of damage done to a target from a given small-arms round varies wildly, to be sure, but the energy delivered to the target does not exceed the energy imparted on the firer (excepting strange things like exploding bullets..). On effectiveness in-game, generally speaking, muzzle velocity is much more important than bullet weight (which is measured in grains, not grams as a previous poster stated) or bullet configuration. This is simply because a faster bullet flies straighter for a longer distance, making it easier to hit the target, and any non-trivial damage has a good chance of putting the average joe out of commission due to shock and fear.

This story was also featured on slashdot recently, with a resulting "slashdotting" of the site. It's overloaded right now. It'll probably be accessible in a day or so.

[Note: This is had already been posted (several times), one of the other posts is here. I should check a few pages back, it seems. Matt, you can close this one.] [ January 19, 2004, 06:43 AM: Message edited by: SirReal ]

Why do I feel a vaguely worried, reading that? /SirReal EDIT: Oh, who cares, it's sig material!