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The Peng Challenge Thread: We Were Here When It All Began


Seanachai

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I was never more than a gnat on the MBT, but a gnat can be highly efficient in the mass-to-annoyance ratio, if employed correctly. 

I never met any of the posters in three dimensions, and that might be for the better, as they loomed large online. In spite of the reputation of the cesspudlians, I knew they were an inherently silly and decent lot, with the possible exception of Dorosh.  

It needs to be remembered that the real unspoken purpose of the thread was to allow civil men to get in touch with their innate hate. Now for the youngsters out there, I don’t mean the discounted, pouty and petty everyone-I-disagree-with-is-literally-Hitler, Instagram-empowered, overly-hyphenated thing we call hate these days. No, our aggressions were macro and very pointy indeed. The challenges were a form of preparation, like a meat tenderizing hammer on the insensate slab of meat that was your opponent. The verbal blows would rouse them to awareness, get them engaged, because that was the only way to extract the right kind of hate out of them. Make them pull themselves up only to make the fall that much better, for nothing brings out the pure hate than having the mandala of your beautiful strategic vision blurred by an opponent constantly banging the underside of the table. Your Tiger’s been defanged by a lucky shot. The ATG in the perfect position uncrewed by a stray artillery shell. Discovering the hard way the tank you thought was hull down isn’t. Turn after turn the design gets contorted, deformed, and corrupted, and you can begin to smell the hate coming from the other end of the e-mail. This form of hate goes deeper than politics, religion, or even relationships. It is primal, a liquid black opal straight from core of your opponent. One drop in the city water would give 1000 children scabies, but to a proper knight of the ‘pool having your opponent hate you was far better than victory. It kept you warm in the darkness…

In those days event the gnats swaggered. Women clutched their heaving bosoms for fear of being overcome by the sheer testosterone dripping from every post. Yes, we had women in the pool, erm… three of them I think, and one of those ended up being a dude, but it was NOT NEARLY AS LAME AS THAT JUST SOUNDED! 

Special recognition to my liege Boo Radley. I shall always be the Wormtongue to your Sharky.

Wherever some mouth breathing halfwit is being upbraided, a garter being verbally snapped, or plans are thwarted by happenstance and lesser men, the Pool lives on.

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  • 2 weeks later...
On 5/24/2022 at 12:46 PM, Ghost of Lurkur Past said:

I was never more than a gnat on the MBT, but a gnat can be highly efficient in the mass-to-annoyance ratio, if employed correctly. 

I never met any of the posters in three dimensions, and that might be for the better, as they loomed large online. In spite of the reputation of the cesspudlians, I knew they were an inherently silly and decent lot, with the possible exception of Dorosh.  

It needs to be remembered that the real unspoken purpose of the thread was to allow civil men to get in touch with their innate hate. Now for the youngsters out there, I don’t mean the discounted, pouty and petty everyone-I-disagree-with-is-literally-Hitler, Instagram-empowered, overly-hyphenated thing we call hate these days. No, our aggressions were macro and very pointy indeed. The challenges were a form of preparation, like a meat tenderizing hammer on the insensate slab of meat that was your opponent. The verbal blows would rouse them to awareness, get them engaged, because that was the only way to extract the right kind of hate out of them. Make them pull themselves up only to make the fall that much better, for nothing brings out the pure hate than having the mandala of your beautiful strategic vision blurred by an opponent constantly banging the underside of the table. Your Tiger’s been defanged by a lucky shot. The ATG in the perfect position uncrewed by a stray artillery shell. Discovering the hard way the tank you thought was hull down isn’t. Turn after turn the design gets contorted, deformed, and corrupted, and you can begin to smell the hate coming from the other end of the e-mail. This form of hate goes deeper than politics, religion, or even relationships. It is primal, a liquid black opal straight from core of your opponent. One drop in the city water would give 1000 children scabies, but to a proper knight of the ‘pool having your opponent hate you was far better than victory. It kept you warm in the darkness…

In those days event the gnats swaggered. Women clutched their heaving bosoms for fear of being overcome by the sheer testosterone dripping from every post. Yes, we had women in the pool, erm… three of them I think, and one of those ended up being a dude, but it was NOT NEARLY AS LAME AS THAT JUST SOUNDED! 

Special recognition to my liege Boo Radley. I shall always be the Wormtongue to your Sharky.

Wherever some mouth breathing halfwit is being upbraided, a garter being verbally snapped, or plans are thwarted by happenstance and lesser men, the Pool lives on.

Lurker, you mewling, inbred fey artiste Nimrod. Thick as a short plank sandwich is what you are. Have you actually made bail? Who slipped up this time? WHO'S RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS INDIGNITY???
Joe Shaw shall hear about this!
Dear Gawd, how does this UBB code thingy work, anyhow?

Edited by Boo Radley
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Boo Radley!

Good to feel the ol' boot on the back of my head again, my liege! Not so much bail, more like work-release except you don't come back and need to find a saw to cut the chain that links you and the other nine guys together. Fear not! I ought to be able to make it to your neighborhood in time to celebrate "Shoot out the bastige's porchlight night."

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  • 5 months later...

Holy crap.  A series of nostalgiacal events has dumped me here like a drunken frat girl left at her front door in a grocery cart.

I was yakking with Seanachai tonight actually, and something made me do some searches for Peng thread stuff, and I lighted on a new YouTube post of an old Joe Shaw podcast where he interviews Boo.  Surreal.  (I don't remember the specific Boo Hetzer vs dalem Shermans groin kick you related, Boo, but I have no doubt it happened.)

So I did another search and ended up here and wango zetango, the nostalgia rises even higher.

Saw Lars the other weekend - he drives a rig long-haul these days.  He's probably driven by some of your houses, even.

Think about that.  No state is safe.

Papa Khann, who I dunno if many remember, is also doing well - he was at the same game night as Lars.  We played a fun pulpy Solar System game.  As familiar to some of you, I did not win.

Who else do I know about...  well, a few other CMers, but no other Cesspudlians.  Luckily since Berli's ascendance into Berlidom the Angle of Death has been off by a few degrees in my locale.

Me, myself, and I?  I'm doing fine.  Same house, different dog, different cat, same hatred of all of you & stuff.  "But what about your versificationisms" you ask, hand-to-breast?

I sling small ones on a hockey forum I've come to enjoy.  They tell me they like them.  In honor of their foolishnessitude, I shall copy-paste an old one here, for your enjoyment. ("Oh my lord," they breathed, "he actually kept them.")

So I give you "PBEM by the CM Light" once again.  For you youngsters in between your avocado toasts and your pogo sticks, there was a rather famous song by one aptly named "Meat Loaf" from the late 70s called "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" (Ask your parents where you came from and they'll probably burst into spontaneous chorus from this one.)  And "Gnome" is one of the many names for Seanachai.

I've improved on it a bit. Ahem.

=============

PBEM by the CM Light

I. PBEM

Gnome:
I remember every little turn
As if they loaded only yesterday
PBEMing in the dark
And there was not another game in sight
And I never had a foe
Playing any worser than you did
And all the Cesspoolers
They were wishing they were me that night

And now our recon screens are so close and tight
It never felt so good, it never felt so right
And we're glowing like the tracer at the end of its flight
C'mon! Watch the flank!
C'mon! Watch the flank!

Chorus:
Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night
I can play PBEM by the CM light

Peng:
Ain't no doubt about it
We were doubly blessed
Cause we were barely on Turn 5
And we were barely dressed

Ain't no doubt about it
Baby got to go and shout it
Ain't no doubt about it
We were doubly blessed

Gnome:
Cause we were barely on Turn 5
And we were barely dressed


Baby doncha hear my heart
You got it drowning out the sound FX
I've been waiting so long
For you to come along and hit my mines


And I gotta let ya know
No you're never gonna regret it
So open up your eyes I got a big surprise
It'll feel all right
Well I wanna make your Sherman burn


And now our recon screens are oh so close and tight
It never felt so good, it never felt so right
And we're glowing like the tracer at the end of its flight
C'mon! Watch the flank!
C'mon! Watch the flank!

Chorus:

Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night
I can play PBEM by the CM light
PBEM by the CM light

Gnome:
You got to do what you can
And let the Tac AI do the rest
Ain't no doubt about it
We were doubly blessed
Cause we were barely on Turn 5
And we were barely--


We're gonna go for a Major Victory
We're gonna go for a Major
An tonight's the night...


Radio Broadcast:


Ok, here we go, we got a real pressure cooker
going here, Turn 5, defender Hidden well,
armor recon advancing down the road, and there it is,
a moving shot from a lead Sherman and a defending halftrack
goes up in flames. Look at him go, this tank can really shoot!
He's going straight down the road and through the AT mines and
he's not letting up at all, he's gonna try for Hull Down; an
AT gun reveals itself, here comes the shot, he's hit! No, wait,
Minor Penetration, No Damage, he's fine, this tank really makes
things happen out there.
Followup Sherman comes down the same road, the AT gun rotates to
target, and the first Sherman nails it with one shot. Holy Cow,
Routed the crew!
The first tank's TC's unbuttoned now, almost daring the defender
to try and pick him off. A Tiger I inches forward from cover to
engage the second Sherman but it ends up in the arc of the Hull
Down Sherman, the Sherman's turret rotates, the Tiger I's turret
rotates! Here's the shot, there's the turn clock winding down,
Holy Cow, I think he's gonna hit it!

II. Let Me Drink On It


Peng:
Stop right there!
I gotta know right now!
Before we go any further--!


Will you play me?
Will you play me forever?
Will you loathe me?
Will you always stalk me?
Will you post wicked things for the rest of my life?
Will you reply to my posts and will you cause me much strife?
Will you play me!?
Will you play me forever!?
Will you have my email?
Will you never delete it!?
Will you send me fast turns for rest of my life!?
Will you reply right away and not make me wait while I play on this fife!?
I gotta know right now
Before we go any further
Will you play me!!!?
Will you return turns forever!!!?


Gnome:
Let me drink on it
Baby, baby let me drink on it
Let me drink on it
And I'll give you my answer in the morning


Let me drink on it
Baby, baby let me drink on it
Let me drink on it
And I'll give you my answer in the morning


Let me drink on it
Baby, baby let me drink on it
Let me drink on it
And I'll give you my answer in the morning


Peng:
I gotta know right now!
Will you play me?
Will you play me forever?
Will you loathe me?
Will you never be sober?
Will you turn over fast like a mail-order wife?
Will you remember that we have games backed up to last the rest of my life?
I gotta know right now!
Before we go any further
Will you play me?
And will you play me forever?


Gnome:
Let me drink on it
Baby, baby let me drink on it
Let me drink on it
And I'll give you my answer in the morning
Let me drink on it!!!


Peng:
Will you play me forever?

Gnome:
Let me drink on it!!!

Peng:
Will you play me forever!!!


III. Praying for the End of Time


Gnome:
I couldn't take it any longer
Lord I was drunk
And when the feeling came upon me
Like a boot to the junk
I started swearing to my god and Traci Lords' love for spunk
That I would play you to the end of time
I swore that I would play you to the end of time!


So now I'm praying for the end of time
To hurry up and arrive
Cause if I gotta play another battle with you
I don't think that I can really survive
I'll never break my promise or forget my vow
But Berli only knows what I can do right now
I'm praying for the end of time
It's all that I can do
Praying for the end of time, so I can end my games with you!!!


Gnome:
It was CM:BO all through CM:AK
and it was so much better than it is today


Peng:
He never plays too good
He's never sober at night
And we were glowing like
A tracer at the end of its flight

=================

Thank you, we're dalem, good night!!

 

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