A Peng Challenge Too Far

[MrPeng]

MrDragon takin on airs is he?

"Feh!" and "Poot!" I say. "Feh!" and "Poot!" That damn story teller gets all het up aboot things and then POOF a new stinking Kaniggit without so much as a shot fired or an AAR written in outrage over the (shhhhh!) LOPSIDEDNESS of JABO!

There is nothing quite so pathetic as an outerboarded who traipses in here, gets a lukewarm recommendation, and then thinks he is somehow BETTER than a pooligan. It seems it was ever thus, and ever shall be that the outre have a profound unawareness of the undisputed FACT that we, this Band of Bastards (coming soon to Haitch Bee OH!), are indeed the creme de la scum of not only this board, but of LIFE ON EARTH! Being commissioned into our little troop pretty much leaves everything else to be desired and all work left undone. So, MrSplatty, Are ya wit us er agin us? Aer ya qwin ta play by er rules er aer ya gwinta insist on yer airs? yer cherce bub, don givva rat's bunghole anyhow.

Peng

[Slapdragon]

Ah, but Messer Peng, you miss the irony of adopting my accused personality in the larger board inside the MBT. A rather deep seated irony, and a joke far too subtle to understand for many.

As it may, so shall it be.

[ 09-24-2001: Message edited by: Slapdragon ]

[Lawyer]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Seanachai:

Lawyer: Win

Seanachai; Loss

{Followed by 2 lengthy Chapters excerpted from Seanachai's "Celtec Sex Fables", based upon his heretofore hidden desires. Message to S-man -- "Keep 'em hidden!"}

<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Now Gentle Jackals, I know you all share in the joy of my VICTORY, not that I would mention it otherwise. But some context is in order to help you understand why Seanachai spent all night composing his Moire porn for our benefit.

The game in question was "Move It or Lose It", which many of you have played. I was the US. The briefing said I couldn't hold both sides of the river, but that means nothing to a Legal Man trained to TAKE IT ALL. So I attacked, and shot out much of dear Seanie's forces by turn 2.

As I maneuvered for additional blows at the Old One, I noticed something new and peculiar in my CM PBEM experience. The Celtic One was moving his remaining tanks back and forth and all around with no apparent tactical goal in sight. It looked just like some central american valet parking attendant was re-arranging the guests cars in DC. Perhaps Seanachai got our game mixed up with his day job at the Twin Cities Hilton.

Anyhoo, after noticing his distinct lack of manly and soldier-like activity, I inquired if S-man had lost the will to win. To which he replied that he was happy "not to lose" in a fight with the Lawyer. Who the feck plays "not to lose" when no real money is on the table?

So I had to teach him a few tactical masterstrokes by winning the game handily. He deluded himself the whole way talking of a "draw". I think that delusion is now over and done, although we were forced to pay the price with his latest oratory.

The game score would have been higher, but I lost a few boys yanking Seanachai's chicken krauts out of their holes. Ah well, they went for a good cause.

At the end, his last AFV was still practicing parallel parking at the rear of the map where it was safe.

Did I mention that I did all this with mere Stuarts? Yes, indeedy, I did.

So, let the shame fall upon the Old Shoulders. Let Blow Joe cackle with the crows as S-man is fed to the jackals. Justice has been dispensed to Seanachai at the Hands of the Law. The earth is in true orbit this night.

Thank you all for caring so much. Contributions are now being accepted for the Lawyer victory party fund. Cash only, please.

[Joe Shaw]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Ah, but Messer Peng, you miss the irony of adopted my accused personality in the larger board inside the MBT. A rather deep seated irony, and a joke far too subtle to understand for many. As it may, so shall it be.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> On the other hand ... do we really WANT another Pawbroon in here?

Joe

[MrSpkr]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Seanachai:

Lorak, when thou returnest to us, lingering here, bereft of your subtle touch and subjected to so much posing and posturing by Shaw that I'm starting to feel like I'm at a fashion photo shoot, regard this latest degradation in the Big Book of Degradations:

Lawyer: Win

Seanachai; Loss

It was the best of Victories, it was the worst of Victories. But mainly, it was an insignificant, piddling, Allied Minor Victory.

How the best of Victories? It was a significant, probably even life affirming victory for Lawyer, whose concern that he would come away with a 'Draw', whipped him into a frenzy of feverish planning, maneuver, and attention to detail that most folk wouldn't lavish on a career, let alone one Combat Mission scenario game. I remain firmly convinced that a mere defeat, even of hideous proportions, would not have filled the man with as much angst and fervour as the possibility of a draw.

Which fills me with confusion, for as anyone who lives in America knows, the whole point of the practice of Law is to end up with an unbroken series of 'Draws', deals cut, and delays that make any legal proceeding in this country not merely a life's work, but most probably a legacy for one's children. A lawyer who can use the term 'swift justice' without following it immediately with a spray of gin out his nose as the attempt to suppress laughter fails, is no longer a lawyer, but a politician.

And why the worst of Victories? Because, a quick glance at the forces left on the board at the end reveals that not only had the preponderance of force and advantage of position lain all along with the Man of the Law (and, after having done so, got up feeling all dirty and cheap and a little weepy, immediately wanting to call their mother and tell her she was right; anyone who lies down with a lawyer arises with shame), but even a cursory examination of the remaining forces reveals that by achieving merely an Allied Minor Victory, and narrowly staved off a Draw by doing so, Lawyer is revealed as a trembling, cautious, toy-poodle of a tactician.

Lawyer, vile readers, is no Keyser Soze. He is not a man of will. Despite an overwhelming edge over my shattered remnants, he made no serious move to achieve victory until the last 3 turns of the game, and achieved it only in the final turn. Indeed, despite his taunts, innuendos, and misrepresentations, I attempted to move forward in reclaiming the bridgeheads throughout the game. Had I, as he accused me, settled back, a 'timid spirit intent on merely not losing', I would have achieved victory myself.

But, the Man of Law did indeed 'triumph' as we must call it, or shatter what little self -esteem he may have amassed in his time here among us, over the Man of the North.

I can forgive him, and that easily, his 'Minor Allied Victory', which he worked harder to achieve than Shaw does to obfuscate every issue and occurence of our lives here in the glorious Peng Challenge Thread.

I can forgive him, precisely because I am a 'man of the north', his sneering attacks and personal belittlement of myself in his posts, his emails, and, I have it on good authority, the mumbled prayers that he offered up before an 'altar' he erected in his office dedicated entirely to his victory over 'the Hated One'. I have, you see, close friends in Washington DC, and, once informed of Lawyer's real world identity, it was but the work of moments for them to subborn office personnel, co-workers, acquaintances, and many others in order to build up a rather thorough and disturbing vision of the Man 'Behind' the Law.

I had thought it would cost me immense effort and a considerable sum to build up a portrait of the man we know here as Lawyer. In fact, for the price of a couple of drinks (although anyone who's ever bought drinks in DC for the locals in the 'watering-holes of their choice' once they know someone else is buying, knows that hiring a major Investigative firm in a real city would be cheaper), most everyone who knows or has contact with him was only too ready to spill all they know of the man 'Lawyer'. He is neither well-liked, nor does he inspire great loyalty in those who come in contact with him. In fact, in several cases, when my shaken minions ceased to buy drinks, convinced they'd heard enough about him from several informants, the informants themselves bought round after round, begging my operatives to stay and 'hear it all'.

I am a man easily moved to pity. Did I not, in fact, take on Panzer Leader as Squire? The picture of Lawyer that was transmitted to me as he was during the weeks of our game, has moved me to a level of forgivnance that I never expected I could feel for a creature even as lowly as himself. All made more sad by the fact that no hint of the soul-shattering anguish and panic that he was feeling was ever revealed in either his posts to the Thread, nor his emails to myself. Witness, oh ye of the Peng Challenge Thread, and know pity yourself.

In the early stages of our game, he was filled with boasting and cockiness. Several co-workers and aqcuaintances remember clearly his odd references to his 'inevitable victory' over someone he called 'Seanachai' (although this was often hard to arrive at, since his pronounciation was hopelessly buggered), or 'The Old One'. As time went by, most of those my operatives talked to said they became 'uncomfortable' with his continual, obsessive references to, as they put it 'some sort of contest he was having with some guy in Minnesota, who he just started calling 'the Hated One'. Eventually, even those who were offered free lunches declined, because, as one fellow attorney, a lad from Maine, had it "It was some wicked weird, this thing he had with this Seanachai fella. It made me some nervous, I tell ya'. He'd start out the lunch smirkin' and grinnin', goin' on about his Stuart this, and his squad that, and without any warnin' at all, he'd be clutching his napkin, wailin' away about somethin' he called 'the Gun of Navarone'. Then he'd spend a good five minutes cursin', somethin' awful to hear, made ya' take a good grip on your steak knife just in case."

From his secretary we learned that he had 'built some kind of weird shrine' in his office (the Victory Altar alluded to above). In her own words "It was, well, it was creepy. He had this really nice carved oak, panelled screen he'd pull around it when he had anyone in the office, and everyone in the office was forbidden to look behind it. But a couple of times I walked in on him, before he made it damn clear that the next time I came in when he was 'communing with Victory', as he told me the second time, that I'd be fired, well, after that I'd always buzz in first, and give him time to put everything away. What was it like? Like I said, creepy. He had these weird pictures that he did off the color copier plastered all around it, mostly just a bunch of guys I'd never seen before, like they were pulled off some website or something, and he had votive candles all over, and in the middle he had this picture, but it wasn't really a picture, it was, like, this silhouette of some guy's head, with a cross inside a circle that the priest down at St. Mary's told me is called a 'Celtic Cross' kind of like, superimposed over it. And he had like plastic armymen, and little tank models and stuff in front of it. What about when I walked in on him? The first time I walked in he was on his knees in front of it, and he was shaking, and weeping, and saying 'no Draw, oh please, no Draw! I must have Victory, Victory! It's only four weeks, I'll make sacrifice in the Ardennes, anything you ask, just grant me victory!' and all the candles were lit, and he had snot running down his face from the crying, and his hands clasped in front of him. When I came in he jumped up and turned away, and told me to get out."

"The second time I walked in, he was on his knees, and he had this big hammer raised up over his head, and he was whackin' the hell out of some of those armymen and tank toys. And the language! I hope I never hear talk like that again. And it was all about somebody named Shankee, or something, and he was screaming about 'the old one', and then saying, 'no, the Hated One, the Hated One'. I was scared, I'll tell you the truth. And when he realized I was there, he jumped up and started screaming at me! I almost peed my drawers, I was that frightened. That's when he told me he'd fire me if I ever came in again, like I told you. I would have quit, but he gave me this big raise, a few days later, for no reason, and told me from now on I had to buzz him before I came in. I've got a kid to take care of, and I needed the money. But as soon as I find another job, I'm outa there."

Finally, the most damning testimony comes from a young woman merely named 'Moire', who is only 17 years old, Irish, and, sadly, in this country illegally. She has a lovely, soft brogue, and despite her youth, has already seen more of life than she should have to face. As she told my folk out east:

"I got this call, ya' see. I was working for this place that did 'escorts' and fancy stuff for that crowd; you know, lawyers, and lobbyists, and politicians and such. And I got a call from the woman who runs the place, and she said, 'Moire, I've got somethin' for ya' but I don't know as you should take it. It's this government attorney sort. He called in here and he wants...well, I'll just tell ya' what he said: 'I want a girl! And she must be young! And beautiful! Radiant as the sun, radiant as victory! Irish! She must be Irish! I will win! There can be no draw! I must win?'

'Moire', she told me, 'he's paying like an arab prince for this. He says he needs you to come once a week or so, and he's not sure for how long. Says 'until I win! Win! And put the Hated One in his place!' The money's fantastic, there's no question of that, but this one's a giddy bastard, and no mistake. I wouldn't blame you for saying no. But if yer willin', what he's payin' will easily hire you an attorney and cover all the bribes for you to stay in this country legal-like, if it goes for as little as a month.'

So I took it on, 'cause there's nothing for me back in Dublin, now is there? And I went out to his place that first night, and he met me at the door himself, and said as how he'd given all the servants the night off. And he took me into this room. And eveythin' was real nice, very posh, and the only thing in the room was this computer, and this, well, I don't but what I could call it anything but an altar, and it had plastic green armymen on it, and tanks, and stuff, and well, I was raised a good Catholic, whatever's happened since, and I won't speak of it more, except there was a live-size poster of hisself at the center, and it was just nasty.

But he was real polite, and gave me some folded up clothes, and told me he wanted me to put them on. And I was thinkin' he'd want me to do it there, but he showed me a bathroom where I could change. And it was men's clothes, scruffy like, and over it went this robe. And folded up with 'em was some sheets of paper tellin' me what to do, and some song lyrics. So I came out and found him sittin' at the computer, and there's all this noise, sounds like a war's goin' on.

But the papers told me to go stand on this, well, platform, that was raised up off the floor in one corner o' the room. And when I climbed onto it, it was strange, ya' see, because after awhile I realized it was the outline of one yer states, and had the cities labeled on it, and all; I remember Minneapolis and St. Paul was where I was 'sposed to stand. And after about 2 hours, when I was gettin' pretty tired of standin' there, he finished up whatever he was after on the computer, and then he went and knelt for a while in front of the weird altar thing, and finally he came to where I was after standin' and I thought, here, now we're for it.

And he got on his knees before me and gave me this awful look and started goin' on about all this ****e that sounded like a lotta stuff from a war, about 'rifle squads', and M-10s, and Stuarts, and some ****e that sounded like Nazi stuff about Panzer this and that, and then told me 'how he'd made himself worthy of Victory' and then I was 'sposed to kiss him on the forehead, which I did, and then, every time, he'd begin to weep, and then he'd kiss me feet, and he was way after using his tongue in the process, I can say.

Then he'd look up at me, and go kinda wild, and muss his white hair, and l was 'sposed to pull off the robe and stand there in men's clothes, and he'd look at me and every time he'd scream 'It's Him! The Hated One!' and then he'd moan an scream, and fall on his face and thrash about a'bit, and I was 'sposed to put my boot on his neck and sing a song. Then he'd shudder, and collapse.

After a bit he'd get up, pay me, and tell me what a fine young woman I was. Then he'd go back to the computer mumbling things about people named 'Peng' and 'Mace' and all sorts of stuff, and act like I was invisible, and then I'd leave. He never once put a hand on me in a nasty way, but sometimes he'd make me get down on my knees and pray for 'the Defeat'. I haven't always done right, but after six weeks with him, I went to confession for the first time in 3 years. Truth to tell, I'd rather spend a weeked with Jimmy Swaggert than see him again, for all his posh ways."

So, vile brethren, there you have it. From this, I imagine all can understand why I feel nothing but pity for Lawyer, and laud his victory. The gods know what sort of nightmare might have been visited on the community of Washington DC had I won. Once I understood what was happening, it was all I could do to actually arrange my defeat. It was a near thing. If I'd managed one less squad shot up and routed, I might have accidently won. It doesn't bear thinking upon.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Isn't there a more appropriate place for this sort of twaddle -- like, say , the letters page of one of THOSE magazines?

[MrPeng]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Slapdragon:

Ah, but Messer Peng, you miss the irony of adopting my accused personality in the larger board inside the MBT. A rather deep seated irony, and a joke far too subtle to understand for many.

As it may, so shall it be.

[ 09-24-2001: Message edited by: Slapdragon ]<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Well, he certainly LIES like a real pooligan!

[Mark IV]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally regurgitated by MrSpkr:

Isn't there a more appropriate place for this sort of twaddle... <HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Well, now it's here twice, isn't it? And that's because we didn't edit our post, isn't it? Rather like sniffing it, touching it, tasting it, and then being glad we didn't step in it... eh?

I am not sure MrSpkr is modeled correctly. Please fix, eksetera, as the Sooners say.

On to other things: I have a nasty cold or a flu or a touch of leprosy or have whiffed some Sarin. Therefore, I am rather cross, as much as if to say it has had little effect on me at all, other than an increasingly phlegmatic outlook on these denizens. If any of you are lucky enough to receive turns from me, I recommend wiping them off a bit before proceeding.

The timely arrival of my latest installment of "Band of Brothers" prevents me from hating the mortgage community as completely as they deserve, the little leeches. It was because of them that Lawyers had to be invented in the first place, and the cure turned out worse than the disease, as they offer the washed masses of the Outer Board FREE BEER, but we, who tolerated them when no decent folk would, get NOTHING. Atchoo.

Obligatory CM content: Most of mine enemies are AWOL or killing me or else not. Mostly not. Seanachai has had some success by attempting absolutely nothing, especially things involving motor vehicles. I was unprepared for this, as the routine preparatory destruction of his entire armored force has preceeded all our earlier battles. This time he has just scrapped them all ahead of time to throw me off.

Atchoo.

[Leeo]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by MrSpkr:

Plagiarism of the worst sort.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

What a piece o' toad-swallow. Previously, I'd have said that this Missed her, Speak her had the brains of a river-rock. However, after my last encounter with Tequila, I've come to realize that river-rocks have a lot of clever and erudite things to say (especially about Missed her, Speak her).

[Leeo]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Leeo aboutMissed her, Speak her :

What a piece o' toad-swallow.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

P.S.: Not to mention, what a pillock!

[Lawyer]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Mark IV:

they offer the washed masses of the Outer Board FREE BEER, but we, who tolerated them when no decent folk would, get NOTHING. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

23.b(3) -- You get what you deserve. Nada.

29-34-hike -- You already got a FREE movie from me.

36-24-36 -- We sure will enjoy not missing you on Friday. I think all the attendees have lungs instead of gills. Lawyer's lie a little. Marketers lie the BIG lie.

Ah, Fresno. Home of the Original Caesar Salad.

[Mark IV]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Lawyer:

You already got a FREE movie from me.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

I earned it, I won it fair and square. Not like it was lots of work, but merely corresponding with you is like bathing in tubs of flatulent maggots.

As for the Big Lie:

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>"Jake, you are the best CM player I have ever met!" <HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

"I am not a crook, the check's in the mail, and I did not have sex with that Panzer." Have you no sense of (let's just skip shame, for obvious reasons) culpability?

...and if you act RIGHT NOW, get this free pamphlet with ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW to make your PzIVs COMPLETELY INVULNERABLE TO ENEMY BULLETS!!! Sound too good to be true? Find out what successful Panzer Leaders (god, I hate bolding that) have known for centuries!!!!! CALL NOW!!!!!!! Join the Mark IV club for men with this SPECIAL INTRODUCTORY OFFER!!!!!!!!! (Inquire about our BABE'S HALF OFF Lady's discounts!!!!!!!!!!!!)

[Simon Fox]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Now everyone has a right to be absent for a time, but Simon Fox hasn't shown up since the day he was frocked as CessPool Grog.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Really Shaw, I'm touched that you miss me so. Though I'm somewhat suprised as I thought you, of all people, would welcome some respite from the demonstration of your manifest inadequacies. Come to think of it your yearning for such punishment may be something of a grimy window onto the nature of your seedy little character. It might explain your portentious filibuster as no more than the cravings of an anaemic ego to be bludgeoned down. It may also explain your twisted adoption of the cachet of loser. An aspiration no doubt to reflect the reality of your existence.

There is a certain circularity to the entry of Jacko into the pool (I refuse to employ the nick of this blatant identity thief. I am in communication with the real Slapdragon and I am confident that Jacko's internet reign of terror will soon be terminated). It is inevitable given his self appointed lordship over the forum through hyperactive haragueing of the outerboards that he should move at last to the final 'backwater' which has thusfar escaped his 'attention'. Now the cesspool will enjoy the delights as their postings are interminably 'coached' and critiqued, mostly with little reference to what they actually wrote. While some may feel such misconception or misrepresentation deviates little from current cesspool practice it is the volume that is the crux of the matter.

How fitting that he should be 'sponsored' by another bilious windbag whose posts are best ignored. How perceptive of the person who saw his propensity for solecism as rivaling Pawbroon, but unfortunately without the single redeeming feature of the idiosyncratic Frenchness. By all means usher him in. I am sure the 'outerboards' will eagerly anticipate the diversion of his attention elsewhere. The enemies of the pool who have been cowed by his viscious barbs in the past will have their flagging spirits revived by the hope that Jacko will kill this thread for good, like all the others.

[Joe Shaw]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Really Shaw, I'm touched that you miss me so.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> It's too late to try to make amends NOW laddy me lad. You abandoned your post, were absent without leave, sleeping on duty and run away. I contended THEN and I contend NOW that special treatment (save, in your case, treatment for whatever vile little parasites call your frame home) for ANYONE is against the true spirit of the CessPool and I further contend that YOU are the proof of my contention. Begone vile Grog, your name upon the Tome of Lorak is an insult to all TRUE CessPudlians.

Joe

[Slapdragon]

Now, as any serious anthropolgist will tell you, every village has a village idiot. In the days before social welfare, they are usually set to cleaning out the pig sties, or handling said enema hose for elderly drinkers of mixed rhubarb drinks. I can see know that you intended Simon to handle this job for you, taking the pressure from poor Poltroon, or Paw-boom, or whatever his Frenchnesses name is.

So anyway, his place in your village sociodynamics is obvious, and is probably pretty close to his place in his real village as it were. Which reminds me of a story about Simon relayed to me (ie. stolen shamelessly) by a secret source who can see his office door. Seems when Simon was a lad, he had trouble finding work. Well, in Australia, as anyone knows from reading his posts, or that of his loving sidekick Eumunghead, or that other drip Bragart or whoever, there just is not that much intellectual work to be done, but there is a lot of crap. So Simon figured that to get in on Australia's true cash crop, he would go into the business of emptying the pit toilets that this third world country uses in place of real comforts like the wooden two-holer of my own native Iowa.

So Simon grabs a friend... well -- a person who speaks to him without needing to be paid by the socialistic government down there, seeing as friendship would imply some deeper emotions, and says, "let's start a latrine emptying business!" His friend, being Australian of course sees the immediate possibilities of this job, and it is better than counting Wallabies while collecting dole money, so he agrees.

At which point young Simon and his side kick contract out to empty the latrines for a major Australian center of higher education. If they empty these latrines, the Dean in charge of bodily functions tells them, they will get 500 Australian dollars, which is like 2 dollars in real money, but it is quite a lot for their first job. Well, if you know Australian higher education, you realize that they account for 39.7562% of all the crap created in that island trying to be a continent (another example of uberness if you ask me -- at most they are an incontinent), so the job is large, but the pay looks right. Simon and friend purchase a couple of buckets, and after a week of careful instruction reading about how to fill and dump said devices, and another actually practicing this operation they go to work.

Each day they go to the latrines and fill the buckets. They lug the filled buckets by hand to a burning pit. Then they dump the buckets and light fire to the refuse, sometimes lighting fire to themselves and the scenery. They labor around the clock, but the pit fills up as fast as they empty it. Each day they dump the thousands of gallons of crap generated by Australian Higher Education, and each morning the pit is just as full.

Finally, Simon's partner stops in anger at no pay and long hours of work, and turns to Simon with an fierce look on his pale face. "Simon, this is really a crappy job you know, that pit is no where near being empty."

Simon, still with high morale, retorts back, "don't complain buster, at least its steady work!!"

[ 09-25-2001: Message edited by: Slapdragon ]

[Seanachai]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Joe Shaw:

I am forced to agree on the pre-emptive Knighting of grogs.

Look what happened the LAST time Seanachai rammed his "vision" of a new member through. We were harangued for DAYS about what a stellar fellow Simon Fox was and what an asset to the CessPool he would be ... WHERE IS HE? After all of that he's nowhere to be seen.

I'm afraid that we're getting periously close to {shudder} recruiting again. Now Slap n' Drag 'em sounds promising.

Joe<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Now, although I normally treat Shaw's obstructionism and irritating posturing with all the disdain it deserves, I think some clarifications need to be made.

I never at any time proposed elevating Slapdragon immediately to Knight. After seeing positive statements from both Peng and Berli (although Peng has apparently sobered up and is trying to recall what he proposed, and to whom), I maintained that Slapdragon should merely be allowed to move to Squire, and that he be granted the singular boon, although a new and radical one, of choosing the Knight he wished to be Squire to. He would still have to post, play his 5 games, and throw feces at Shaw, as all who would be perfect, parfait Knights of the Cesspool must.

Of course, whatever Knight he chooses would still have to accept him, as no transgression against knightly perogatives may be made. Unless, of course, Shaw was 'simply unaware' of the abuses that Knights had been made subject to, and 'over-enthusiastic aides' had 'over-stepped their authority' and, 'made a right bollocks of everything', and 'the Justicariate (anyone else notice the similarity between that and Judas Iscariot), and the repeated assurances that 'Shaw, Justicar of the Peng Challenge Thread, is deeply sorry for any errors that have been made'.

But enough about Shaw and his rather dim henchmen. I say that Slapdragon's rather copious string of posts to date should be taken as 'time served' on the issue of Serfdom, and that he should now be allowed to choose which Knight, contigent upon acceptance, he wishes to serve as a Squire to.

Slapdragon, you should not view this issue of Squiring as servitude. Although it is, of course. You should view it as your Journeyman days under the watchful eye of a Peng Challenge Thread Knight. For here, you will need a mentor. Oh, I know you will think otherwise, lad. Anyone who's read your endless posts on the Outer Boards, many of them filled with and unctuous courtesy that is far more degrading and belittling than the light-hearted taunting and name-calling found here in the Peng Challenge Thread, might think that you should step fully into your own here in the Cesspool.

But, beyond the matter of our simple traditions, lad, you're still finding your feet when it comes to taunting. Telling someone in a self-righteous and pitying way that they're not fit to tote guts to a bear as regards their forum behaviour, game knowledge, or fitness to possess genetic material, isn't quite the same as making a merry jest and challenge on the Peng Challenge Thread. We know you can step on cockroaches. What we wish to know is whether you can laugh, fence, and trade insults with gentlemen (however fallen on hard times). The Outer Boards clearly need another Orkin Agent. Here on the Peng Challenge Thread, we need something more.

Now, notice the ever vituperative Simon Fox. The lad showed up here tonight and did the right thing. Simon, of course, isn't one of your giddy musketeer types who flourishes, and laughs, and makes passes with his wit that sounds like a rapier cutting air in a light-hearted display.

No. Master Fox, you see, shows up here, lip-curled, disdainful, shoots his cuffs, and uses the blade of his wit to lop off the heads of several daisies, and then with a flick deposits them at the feet of his opponent and opines: thus dies beauty. He rarely lops off the head of a chipmunk in the process. He rarely notices that chipmunks have heads, even.

So, given that the Peng Challenge Thread has been rather overrun with chipmunks lately, one could hardly blame him for a non-appearance.

However, he did show up here to make mock of you, Slapdragon.

Now, I say we do the right thing, and ask Slapdragon which Knight he would wish to be seconded to. It is true that he still needs to learn a man's craft, and, as my father always said to me, there is no place, Seanachai, for taking in the nature of the world like camps, courts, and the Peng Challenge Thread.

[ 09-25-2001: Message edited by: Seanachai ]

[MrPeng]

I told you guys it was a good idea to invite MrSlapper in the 'pool!

edited due to simultaneous posting with Seanapoo rendering my post moot, obsolete, worthless, without cause, and generally bereft or meaning....HEY!?

[ 09-25-2001: Message edited by: MrPeng ]

[Berlichtingen]

Sean,

I have been pondering the 'Slappy Question', and I'm going to have to disagree with you. About the only thing he would bring to the Mutha Beautiful Thread are verbose posts, and we already have to put up with you. Gonna have to side with Shaw on this one... let slappy serve his time as a serf first

[imported_Hiram Sedai]

Consider this a random bumping of the Peng Challenge Mutha Beautiful Cesspool McNasy Thread. For those of you who already know that I seldom type anything meaningful, then it won't be suprising that this attempt at prose will yield nothing of importance.

Edited because of diuretics.

[ 09-25-2001: Message edited by: Hiram's Ghost ]

[ElGuapo]

===========

Snip a very long message by Seanachai, resembling a Joyceian epic of very creative imagined self-humiliation by his opponent.

===========

Are all admitals of defeat as long as the expose written here? What a hilarious read.

Methinks I need to get back into the swing of things and take on someone TCP/IP tonight. They can then write their own epic admittal of defeat tommorrow morn on the longest of threads.

[Agua Perdido]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by ElGuapo:

Methinks I need to get back into the swing of things and take on someone TCP/IP tonight.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

How nice for you.

We must all face our own "El Guapo." Ours is the real "El Guapo."

Now sound off like ya got a pair or sod off! Preferably the latter.

Agua Perdido

[Joe Shaw]

Well, well, well, let's see what crept over the transom whilst I slept shall we?

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Slap, Drag Un finished an incredibly long and boring story with: Simon, still with high morale, retorts back, "don't complain buster, at least its steady work!!"<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Now [sNEER] No doubt it's my dull and pedestrian wit [/sNEER] that prevents me from seeing the knee slapping and tear making sheer joy of this punchline, but after all that surely we deserved more? Now grant you the "incontinent" line was good ... I would suggest adult Depends I think ... after all they ARE for ... Down Under.

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Seanachai is still roiling th waters I see: I maintained that Slapdragon should merely be allowed to move

to Squire, and that he be granted the singular boon, although a new and radical one, of choosing the Knight he wished to be Squire to.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Actually you DID suggest that he be made Knight immediately but wisely retracted the statement in the same breath. I was acting pre-emptively ... I've seen you at work before. But let me ask you this Seanachai ... Why? Why violate the sacred traditions of the CessPool in THIS case? As you are well aware, he can be made Serf and, practically in the same breath, be taken to Squire. Why does HE get to choose his Knight? Others who have come to us must await the decision of the fates. Why does THIS SSN (for SSN he is, regardless of posts to the outerboard) deserve such special consideration? You have attempted to violate and shift the traditions of the CessPool far too often for the comfort of the Justicariate. Let the camel slip his nose beneath the tent flap ONCE and soon you'll be sleeping with the great dirty beast ... (OH FOR GAWD'S SAKE BAUHAUS ... it's a CAMEL I'M TALKING ABOUT ... well it's a great, large, dirty beast that kicks and spits ... really? ... oh well, each to their own I suppose.) <BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Now, notice the ever vituperative Simon Fox. The lad showed up here tonight and did the right thing.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> The RIGHT THING! The Right Thing is it? HE showed up after an absence measured in months and you simper and fawn over his two posts as if they were the revealed word. Your complicity in THAT farce hasn't been forgotten either Seanachai. The RULES, TRADITIONS and PROCEDURES of the CessPool are there FOR A REASON Seanachai, and the Simon Fox episode merely highlites the right of them.

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Peng has weighed in again it seems: I told you guys it was a good idea to invite MrSlapper in the 'pool!<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> And the Justicariate is fully in favor of the invitation, the only item at issue is the FORM of the invitation. WE prefer the original invitation you proffered ... that of SERF!

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Finally, Berli gave us his view: Gonna have to side with Shaw on this one... let slappy serve his time as a serf first ...<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> And really Seanachai ... what time is it. My response on THIS issue makes it clear that it's a procedural matter for the most part, but an important one ... we simply CAN'T have this willy-nilly elevation because YOU want it so.

Joe

[ 09-25-2001: Message edited by: Joe Shaw ]

[RedOrDead]

1,2,1,2... Testing, testing [is this thing on?]

[Agua Perdido]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by RedOrDead:

How are you gentlemen?<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

More cockroaches! Usually the cool weather of the later pages causes them to hibernate. I bet Slappy left a half-eaten sandwich under the sink or somefink. Someone find mensch's can of Raid.

Agua Perdido

[RedOrDead]

Aqua, clearly your arms-dealing activities have rotted your brain as well as your soul.

Had I seen any gentlemen in here I might have asked how they were; I didn't and I didn't.

{edited because I was bored}

[ 09-25-2001: Message edited by: RedOrDead ]

[imported_Hiram Sedai]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by RedOrDead:

Aqua, clearly your arms-dealing activities have rotted your brain as well as your soul.

Had I seen any gentlemen in here I might have asked how they were; I didn't and I didn't.

{edited because I was bored}

[ 09-25-2001: Message edited by: RedOrDead ]<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Sod, bugger, and piss off!!

Your sig sucks too.