Leeo

Wow. You really have to admire a guy who takes pride in his work. He's positively glowing, he is! I say he get's "Anarchist Employee of the Month."

Oh, that's just too easy, isn't it? "Look who's finally decided to respond. OOooo, let me bow down in thanks to that masterful tactician [cough, cough] for deigning to pull 'is thumb out of his mouth long enough to hammer out a reply." It makes my belly urp, it does.

BOO! Shuddap and send me a friggen turn.

When I think of cheery, it is usually the last thought before the bottle slips from my hand and I sink into the oh-so-welcome Oblivion. Funny thing is, there are so few of you crew who also inhabit oblivion. Perhaps it is from this that I derive so much pleasure? BOO: I will trounce you in the rain, for I am from Oregon, and that's what we do. LARS: How dare you hand me a major defeat. It's not like I'm unaccustomed to such things, but really, you? NIDAN: You'll not be sleeping in this beat-up village this night, you yankie running dog. MrSpkr: Where for art thou, counselor? dalem: I sent you a frikken turn about an infinity ago. Let's hop on the turn-return wagon, shall we? Hmmmm? I don't think I can stomach playing any of you other rapscallions in absentia. PISS ORF! My work here is done....

Oh Joe, your eyesight has grown so cloudy with age that you're willing to declare ANYthing which you can descry through your clouded corneas as "sig material." I've shat thoughts more cogent than that one, Joey.

I also believe one can count on Seanachai to drink prodigous amounts of alcohol. Well, at least until the gout flares up.

“I believe in compulsory cannibalism. If people were forced to eat what they killed, there would be no more wars.”

So apparently Emrys has gone awry, and either due to hip displasia or alzheimers, can't seem to find the proper thread in which to post. It must suck to be him just slightly less than hallucinating-Stuka is happy to be himself. Toddle off a cliff, Emrys and let us know when you can dawdle yourself into reality.

Well, I suppose it's a good thing you like being you, because the rest of us thank our lucky stars that we are not, in fact, you. My son used to have a turtle in an aquarium, and though not terribly bright by turtle standards, imagine my surprise when the damned terrapin composed a passable sonnet exclaiming its thanks and extreme pleasure to have not been you, Stuka. Recent science has even recently found that the great success of the slime molds and various algae forms derive primarily from their great jubilation at not being you. I read it on the internet, so it must be true.

Indeed. Nearly as bad as you giving me the friggen pommies. Do you realize how un-fun it is to purchase pommie kit? Nevertheless, my brave lads will be drinking tea on the graves of your 'orrible Fascist Pixeltruppen, Boo.

Exit stage left, to the next incarnation: WEGO Challenge Peng in Real Time

This is the immortal and impulsive Mutha Beautiful Thread, and if you don't know what it is, that's just as well. Go away. Go. We'll wait. Are you still here? Not very bright then, we take it. Well, you obviously need things spelled out for you, so here goes. Give a challenge, that's what it's all about. Do not Pause. Do not replay. Do not maunder on with global challenges to the crowd. Pick someone specific and issue a challenge that show's you have some matter between your ears and between your legs (but speak not of what's the matter down below). Challenge someone that's not above your station. If you don't know what that is, Go Away and find common comfort with the scum of the ditches and murky ponds. Talk only sweet and friendly things to the Ladies of the Pool, for it is through the pleasant presence of the fairer sex that we can envision an eventual rise above the stink-hole of testosteronated cess. There are many other rules, sub-regulations, and dictates. Most of them point to the fact that you shouldn't be here. Now go away again, or we shall ignore you a second time.

Abbott, I'm quite surprised you didn't purchase a short bus for reasons of nostalgia.

And a little red racer isn't an overcompensation?

So send me a setup already. AK. Been a long time since I've been beaten by you. </font>

Dale, you must be suffering some debilitation of one sort or another. Must suck to be you.

I would like to simply state that my upright troops of the Fatherland handed down a 76 to 24 major victory over the American imperialist running dogs commanded by one Boo Radley. I wished I could gain more succor from such a statement, but after all, to crow about a victory over Boo is akin to crowing over one's ability to stand-up: i.e., unless one suffers from some sort of debilitation, it's a given. However, crow I will. cock-a-frikken-doodle-boo So let it be written, so let it be done.

I am also awaiting a turn from the snickerer. I'm even attacking across open ground in that one, so I don't quite understand the reticence of said snickerer to respond with the next turn. Sure, I killed a few clankety things of his, but that's no reason to avoid sending a file, is it? MrSnckrr; please send a turn or sumfink.

Nidan1; Let me know when you want to send a turn so I can still spank your Yankee Monkey's back out of the city they seem so willful to enter. It's like a teenage date, there's so much desire for "entry" and "conquest."

I need <u>validation</u>.

I was an assistant manager at a Sambo's restaurant once. That's gotta count for sumthin'.

Nobody expects The Finnish Distortion!

Upon what point did we leave our little tussle in the bustle (and the ignaceous and sedimentary) contre' temps? That's my butchering, and I'm sticking by it. I do not recall if you owe me a turn in this poor CMAK drek of an oven-baked field over which I've had to riddle you're brave lads with softball-sized holes, or you surrendered. Please fix or do sumfink about my understanding. You may want to call in a neurologist (or perhaps, astrologist (mayhap, a vet would serve (I almost said serf, but really, what's the point in that) best)). <small>P.S.- I've been drinking.</small>

Mission accomplished! Objective achieved. Infiltration complete. Neuroses cultured. Flap-jacks flipped.

I LIKE PANCAKES!