Buzzsaw

As opposed to Ohio where they don't report it -- they just join in. I heard the governor declined to renew that exotic animals law because he though they had enough protections under sex worker statutes.

In gaming news, Stuka and I have traded opening turns in the scenario created by my Liege, Rune. And what a masterpiece of a scenario it is. I’ve also gained new insight into the genius of my Liege and see that he cannot be bothered by small things like verb tense and spacing in mission briefings. Maybe he needs a new squire for such menial tasks. The game with OGSF is not going well. He seems more interested in telling me how big his “RAM” is and keeps asking about mine. Ewwww. Couldn’t you guys have warned me about him?

Let’s be clear that none of us are actually “talking” to Shaw. It’s only through the mediums of electronic forums, email, and legal enjoinders that such misanthropes interact with greater society. Don’t be fooled by his flimsy fabrications about trips to outposts of civilization such has Denver. He is off to contemplate his life of misery on the shores of the Great Salt Lake. Indeed the lake is his kindred spirit – both are comprised of a crusty perimeter that protects a bitter and unpleasant core. More importantly, there is nothing funny about talking with (or reading posts from) Shaw, despite what he might think. It is painful, in the extreme.

Alright you raving mad Scotsman, you're on. I'll cook up a QB Meeting Engagement. Look for a private forum message.

I shall be forced to taunt you a second time, if you are not careful. I have now had a peak at "A Delaying Action" so that scenario would be out. Too bad -- lots of 'splodey things. If you are too busy fondling kangaroos, let me know, and I'll see if there as anyone around here man enough to take on Sir Buzzsaw.

Wishing Navscout the best. Get well soon -- or at least as well as you were before your recent unpleasantness. Stuka, you tool, it is time for a match. And when I say tool, I mean it in the australopithecine sense. That is, a rock that was accidentally sharpened when you banged it against a piece of fossilized dingo dung that you mistook for some bizarre outback delicacy. Comparing you to something more sophisticated such as sharpened stick would insult entire tribes of hunter-gathers (not to mention the stick itself). Send me any reasonably sized setup. Although, if it is going to be large, I’d like to defend. Rune might even agree to let me play the one you are currently holding. I have only played one repository-supplied ME. I have forgotten the name of both the scenario and my opponent, as it was one of my usual cakewalk victories. N.B.: Please do not take the above discussion of tools as a prohibition against using tools that are a little more complicated. Chain saws, nail guns – have it. I’d even encourage you to think about juggling them. Blindfolded.

Unfortunately, we cannot have a best of three, as squire Buzzsaw is no longer. To your lasting shame, your all time record against that lowly squire will forever be 0-1. 0-fer. Winless. Pathetic. Sir Bussaw, the knight, will have to carefully consider the terms of any matches. You really seem to have distinguished yourself through exceptional gaminess. That is saying something in this crowd. Perhaps a QB attack/defend series on the same map with each of us playing each side once? I rather like the idea of a QB, as you have a clearly demonstrated your weakness in purchasing units. (Never bring a sniper rifle to a tank fight.) I have played exactly 1.5 scenarios, from the disk or otherwise, so there is that option. However, I’ll need to get to the bottom of Shaw’s accusations of double-blind gaminess. As a knight of the Cesspool, you realize that I must treat any charges brought by the Justicar with the utmost seriousness.

Joe, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you got so drunk that you are a little confused about that soiree. (Really I have never seen anyone chug a bottle of Chateau Margaux that fast – well done). That was the planning dinner for my knighting ceremony. There will, obviously, need to be many more stenographers at the real event. Actually, even I am a little foggy on what decisions we reached? (Other than the fact that Boo is not invited and Emrys is not allowed to dance on the tables, that is.)

And so, let the official record reflect that my promise has been kept. Stuka has been stuck down by this noble squire of House Rune. The boastful Aussie was brought to his knees by a combination of tactical genius, awe inducing audacity, and Rune granted divine providence. Future scholars may well recognize this occasion as a seminal event in the hallowed history of the MBT. For today, in the fertile combination of sticky Cesspool muck and a fine mulch of Stuka viscera, the Cesspool's greatest knight has taken root. Behold Sir Buzzsaw! I wish that I could say the battle was hard-fought, but the truth is that after a push on my right flank was repulsed, Stuka stood little chance. Most of the game was spent with Stuka rustling around in the bushes and occasionally running into buildings moments before they collapsed. This is probably a story best told in pictures. Look Fritz, another flying gerkin. Let's catch this one on our thin top armor. Can you guess which side of the village Stuka was in? (Hint, look for rubble and lots of bodies.) Stuka's camp out near the map edge was interrupted by HE. Teleporting Panther did some damage, but did not last long. Total Victory for a Total Knight. Witness the coming of Sir Buzzsaw!

Time to start the preparations for my knighting ceremony! Gosh, Liege Rune, I am so excited! Should I send a list of people I would like included on the guest list? And what is the proper attire? I hope there will be lots of bunting. (Wow, I don’t even know the house colors). I prefer a chocolate cake with raspberry filling, but I am not too particular. I’ll post a proper summary of my glorious victory over Stuka in a bit, but I will let you know now that after one last gamey objective rush (while pretending to negotiate a cease fire, no less), Stuka’s stragglers surrendered outright, and House Rune has earned a Total Victory.

First off, as an Australopithecus, I should think you would have no trouble with a flat map. Only in that barren pancake of a country would the inhabitants take a medium-sized boulder, turn it into a national monument, and then argue over its name. You probably had to cut your trip to the US short because of vertigo. Second, our little QB map is anything but flat. Those areas I am occupying that overlook the objective – those are hills. They are easy to spot, because your Panthers are burning next to them. Third, a modest amount of artillery?! It has been raining metal death for 10 turns. Sorry that I didn’t oblige you by purchasing lots of fleshy pixeltruppen for you to pummel, but is that any reason to take it out of the trees and grass? Also, note how my mortar fire has managed to find its mark. There is a trick to that…. (Hint: it has to do with those hills again.) Forth, your little misinformation campaign about not submitting orders anymore might work on the lesser-minded sub-humans around here, but I am not fooled. When you view your next turn you will see what happened to those soldiers unfortunate enough to still be following your orders.

Herpes Infected Money on the loose in Ohio Boo, is there something you want to tell us?

I can understand your need for a few drinks after those last few turns....

The world has moved past that drunken smiley-bashing git. Honestly, he was pretty much over when he started posting about girl’s soccer matches, and it is a great blessing that he doesn’t show his face around here anymore. If I have to toast Peng, it will be according to the new definition and the examples in the video.

Four Shermans for two Panthers. I would call that a nearly even exchange, but you seem to have saved purchase points by crewing with mental rejects who enjoy trying to catch as many bazooka rounds as possible.

A short game update for the curious few. After brief delay wherein Stuka tried to change out my QB setup for some scenario that he had doubtless played seven times from each side, and I attempted to get him to unknowingly continue my game with Marlow (from turn 3 – the last turn where I had some prospect of winning), the game is now afoot! Early losses for the Buzzsaw lead Amis where pretty severe, having been surprised by Stuka’s teleporter-equipped Panther. However, said Panther is now burning quite nicely, and my only regret is that it may be hard to recover the dilithium crystals from its engine. My conventionally powered forces are pouring into the objective, and, barring some unforeseen calamity (plasma barrage?) I am confident in my eventual victory.

I’m right here, you southern hemisphere heathen. Your reputation as a gamey, cheat’n bastiche has only emboldened me. If you really have completed twelve games to date, that implies a speedy turn rate, which means an equally speedy victory for me. Perhaps one of these gits can find a scenario appropriate for our tete-a-tete? I am not particular (that should be clear, since I am willing to play you).

Stuka, I appreciate your offer to pick up the slack created by these lesser Cesspudlians, but I must warn you that you are in for a challenge far greater than anything you have experienced. These tiddlywink games with Nindan1 have not prepared you for the spectacle of Buzzsaw’s tactical genius. Read Oberst’s sig and know the certainty of your defeat. If my memory serves (which it often does not), you are, indeed, one of the many Australians cursing the MBT. I almost feel as if enough has been writ about your poor, blighted nation in the hallowed pages of the Cesspool, so I will not go there. Your name offers some chance for ridicule. “Stuck-a bean in his ear where it took root and crowded out his brain?” Or, after I am finished with you, “Stuck-a fork in him and called him done?” Less than inspiring, I must admit. No, I will allow your sad posts during our battle to serve as your own unwitting lampoon. The whole MBT can watch as your fragile mind crumbles before my intellect. Sad little posts in your Pidgin English will reveal the lows to which you have been pushed, and though the glory in squishing such an infinitesimal bug is but small, said glory will nonetheless be added to the great House Rune. Long live House Rune!

And no reply from the Ohioan. Does these mean that I will have to stoop to challenge and Australian? My other choice is to ask Rune back in here to direct his Squire. I am not sure that is something you all want.

Not a good idea to give the lad any cash. He'll just end up in those dark Akron alleys trying to find out if he can get some voiceless glottal fricative. Best get him an ample supply of pentobarbitals. He can take as need, or all at once if he wants maximum relief.

And before you make a case for the sanctity of your state name based on some association with the noble savages who named your river, let’s all agree that the Pratchett rule of intra-language geographic nomenclature almost certainly applies in this case. When the first white settler asked “What is that?” while pointing to the river, the reply was probably along the lines of “What kind of porcupine-buggering idiot doesn’t know what a big river is?”. Some abbreviation was obviously necessary, so while it is possible that your state name means “big river”, it is equally possible that it means “porcupine-buggering idiot.”

Boo, I am not surprised you are so attached to your letter “H” since it is the only consonant you have, but something felt very wrong, and I am not ashamed to admit that I turned to Wikipedia for the answer. You are clinging to a horrid pseudo-consonant, with the appropriately filthy sounding description of “voiceless glottal fricative”. No, this is not one of the many “services” available in the dark alleyways and dim restrooms of greater Akron, but the definition of a consonant so weak and breathless that its only recourse is latch onto a nearby vowel and to be swept along on its coattails. The parallel with known Ohioans in the MBT is quite obvious. You are but a faint whisper attempting to eke out some meaning by associating with the greater voices here in the Cesspool. Such a sad and pathetic sight, that I am moved to offer you succor: Accept my challenge and make your voice heard in the tumult of a battle well-fought; accept not, and continue your shadowy, voiceless existence in the shallows of the Pool. The choice is yours. N.B.: Don’t get me started on Iowa, and that abhorrent “double-u”. Together your states make for a Scrabble rack nightmare. In variations where places names are allowed, both states would still be unplayable due the prohibition against profanity.

Boo, you seem a good chap, but have the great misfortune of hailing from the consonant-challenged state of the Buckeyes. Indeed, you are an affront to all of us from the great state of California, and there is but one solution: duel to the death on the glorious canvas of CMBN. Though I be but a lowly squire, my might is …, uhh, mighty. Feel my wrathful wrath, and the great stinginess of my sting…. (Hmmm, this challenge isn’t going as expected, let me see about starting over in a sec…)

Well, given his poor hygiene the acne is expected. I am more worried about what looks to be a horn sprouting on the right side of his head. Gives credence to the idea that Shaw is the product of some drunken union between Berli and Peng. I knew Peng drank a lot -- just didn’t know it was that much. Perhaps he was passed out and Berli had his way with him? The theory fits well, as nepotism is one of the best explanations for why the Olde Ones left the Justicar title to someone who is so obviously incompetent. (Drunkenness and indifference are other leading possibilities.)

While Shaw's resemblance to Baron Harkonnen is well documented (see below), the plan loses its luster now that it is out in the open, doesn't it? Besides, I think I have already sufficiently humbled the Shavian House with my brilliant victory over his lackey and the brutal lashes I have administered here in the MBT. Recent posts have clearly revealed that Shaw's house canon is crumbling, and I would not want any contagion to spread to the Cesspool itself and upset what passes for order here. The few remaining Blood Hamster Sigs should be enough to keep his recent wounds open and ensure a nasty scar. Baron Harkonnen or Joe Shaw?