Infandum, O Stuka, iubes renovare dolorem... of days gone by when panicked Syrian pixeltruppen grease the treads of the invincible Abrams; the game I'd been seeking for decades appears in a bargain bin (of all places); and such a seemingly nice forum is marred by a single thread, a great gutter of grognards, this junta of the senile...
... like Sir Speedbump here, who despite his inability to tell a Pallas from a Priapus, clearly has command of multiple tongues, indeed, forked ones. My Moscovite tankers await the next batch of Kievian fish-stories with great anticipation, along with surrender notices.