Leeo

Well, it does sound a bit like your likely creche of creation, but otherwise, no.

Well, just for the sake of everyone's sanity, I shall kick the crap out of an Aussie, as an example of their inferiority (Shut the Feck up, Stuka!). NOBA! I will send you a random set-up for CMAK, human purchase of forces. All regions combined, Day, cool weather. My coin flip will determine whose axis and who isn't. I'll not play any of your "set-ups." Random, without evil weather or night, so I can see your pixeltruppen die. What say ye, oh Noba, oh buzz-clicker Aussie?

What? Did I hear one of 'em whisper a challenge? Naw, couldn't be. They don't have the hormone glands for such to be the case. Aw well, maybe I can talk Lars into shooting one, just to put it out of our misery.

See? They must be some form of lower species with minimal communication abilities. Really, someone should just put them down. You know, cull the herd, so to speak. Feckin' aussies.

Whot the feck is all the bzzzzing and cliickking and cllaaaakckkkinating coming from the down-underlings? It sounds like it might be some form of communication, but one can never tell with unintelligible species...

Yes, Emrys, you've become quite bothersome indeed. A bit of Preparation Eeww ought to take care of you just fine.

So, MrPeng, is that exactly newsworthy? That's similar to proclaiming that the Earth does, indeed, orbit the Sun (rather vice-versa), i.e., it's as plain as the nose on your ill-begotten face. If you don't care for that, I'll whip some more comma's upon your penchant ass. See if'n I don't. If'n you're lucky, I might even throw in a few apostlerophes. ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, ''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Really, Emrys, you should stop projecting. Didn't Freud explain that concept to you when you two shared tea? Perhaps your id made you forget? Perhaps those brain cells simply died from old age and lack of stimulation?

Why in the name of Jehosephat on a unicycle would you think I'd ever want any of you feckers to [shiver]love[/shiver] me? One would think after all of your post-padding hanging on, you might be able to purchase a clue about this Cesspool, this MBT. But no, you don't even play the game, so I suppose you should get a pass, you putrescent pile of mule milk. Perhaps a free get out of jail card, you petrified puddle of post-octogenerian drool. You, Emrys, may be looking for love, but by all that is armored, 'splodey, and shootey, you are looking in the wrong place, you stain on the backside of an AARP reject. Piss orf, Emrys, for I am in search of hate. But obviously, you are too feeble in comprehension to figure that out. Perhaps Matlock might be able to find you a clue, but I don't think he takes clients whom he can out run.

Another Saturday night, and I ain't got no mail-turns, I got some free time 'cause I just got to play, Now how I wish I had someone to fight with, I'm in an awful way. I got some guns ready to go I've killed a lot of pixels since I began, So I can't kill 'em if they don't send 'em But as yet, I haven't got 'em, That's how I'm in the state I'm in. Another Saturday night, and I ain't got no mail-turns, I got some free time 'cause I just got to play, Now how I wish I had someone to fight with, I'm in an awful way.

Peng, while likely fuzzy, isn't necessarily wuzzy, was he?

Best wishes on your new life, Mord.

AAAHHHHRRRGGGHHHH!!! Oh, and to Radley, and piss-licking Emry's and Stuka-nuka-puka-pants? Piss orf. (I'd include Nidan1, but he's too senile to know I'm putting a fork in his eye)

I once had a performance problem. IT PRIMARILY DEALT WITH THE PITIFUL PERFOMANCE OF MY PZ-IV's AGAINST [cough]Stuka's[/cough] Stuartsessessess from Hell. Arsehole. Glowing arsehole. Complete, unadulterated arsehole. His pixeltroops, of course. He doesn't quite reach the level of Arsehole himself. Really, he's an arsehole wannabe, and I'll not readily forgive him his "dead-eye" Stuartssesssesesesesss. Oh sure, he's an alright bloke. But his Stuartssessesseeess? They are right arseholes. See if'n they ain't.

EMRYS! Do you actually own or play any of the CM series? I'm callin' you out! I'll hunt you down and make you see the error of your ways. Go ahead and cry and whine and pull at your forelock like a wee randy dancer, you Methuselah of mediocrity! I demand the chance to kick your liver-spotted carcass in the fork. Don't you dare close your blinds, lock your door, and default to "I'm afraid to play the game mano to mano." I'll not vacate your front lawn, you pitiful mewling excuse for a Northwesterner; you must rise from your rickety rocking horse and accept this challenge. Should you not, you prove yourself to be insignificant, uninspired, and unfit for consideration in the wide ranging moor of daft feckers known as the cesspool. "Aihm lookin' at you, Jimmae!"

I hates Stuka, I hates Boo, I hates Nidan1, and I hates you. Tank hew, tank hew berry mulch.

I demand the attention of Obergruppenstompenfuhrer! Make it so.

Feck-orf, Emrys. To you, anything involving pork is antisemetic. Well, you're the oldest pig in this pen, so "'ave a t'ink on dat." Do you feel like you're getting hot? Perhaps 'bacon,' even? Maybe you're feeling a bit like Popeye? In your words, "I ham what I ham..." Why don't you feed on slop and offer yourself to the sausage gods, eh? Oy!

Piss Orff, Boo! Click it and weep, you ohioan, you obtuse excuse for a midwesternererererer..... Aihm looookin' at jooo, Jimmae!

RADLEY!! It has come to my inebriated attention that the festering excuse for a state you call "ohio" has a city named after the state that is indeed the fairest of them all, Mine own loverly Oregon (where men are men and cannabis is scared). BOO!! As junior justicarrot and general barney fife of the MBT, in addition to being a deserving resident of that monotony-black-hole of a state they call ohio, I DEMAND that you hereby bring forth a legally binding petition before your band of trained monkeys called a state legislature to officially change the name of "oregon, ohio" to something more befitting, such as "armpit of the midwest." So let it be written, so let it be done.

Mr. Ass-burn would kick you directly in the fork.

I'm an Oregonian and I'll stand on any toilet seat I damn well please! What code does one have to live by to be considered an anarchist, and who writes the code down? Anarchist minds want to know...

Oh, and the same to you, Stukes. Your Stuartsesssess are going to pay!

Feck-orf, Hiram. If'n Oregon were really to challenge Peng, he'd awake bound with blackberry vines, fir needles in his hair, major sand rashes, and a salt water bath to exacerbate his beaver-bites.

The doctors were a bit confused when I requested a tricolonoscopy; they only had two snakes in the orifice.