My MG's Can't Run Fast Enough for the Peng Challenge

[Panzer Leader]

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

It appears that... I love you. No, I mean I really love you.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Well, thank you Gaeiour. Al ittle flattery will take you a long way, but I have to tell you, sir, that I am not into that "Swedish Love". The films you people watch are banned in most civilized countries and disregarded as filth. Perhaps you could use a big dose of Seamlayer's soul-saving.

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

A note: You've just made the List (yeah, i have one too). I'll never ever read anything you write ever again. For forever. There were only three other names on it, now there is four.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Could I get a copy of that list? Could I be at the TOP-O-THE-LIST? Oh boy! Top o' the list. As Don Quixanachaioti's merry sidekick, I like to keep abreast of the movers and shakers.

Gaeiour I am both flattered and enraged over your unasked for attack of my person. I have beat off your grubby hands with my purse (oops, I mean European carry-all) but I still feel I must offer you retribution. I would challenge you, but I fear the current rash of [serious]too many games[/serious] would cause my throaty challenge to fall on deaf ears. therefore, sirrah, consider yourself challenged. Now please back down with some common complaint, you Follower.

Harumph!

****--CMPALYER--****

Pardonnez moi. Je pense que vous ettes une bete! (Je ne parle pas la francaise - cocorico!)

[ 08-03-2001: Message edited by: Panzer Leader ]

[Joe Shaw]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>How did PL come to be known as Sancho? And where did Jabo come from?<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> David, old friend ... well, alright, strike the last ... your continued attendance upon the Outerboard has been noticed and it is felt that it has deviated (sit down Bauhaus) your attention from that which really matters, i.e. The CessPool. In short, you really MUST pay attention.

Panzer Leader has been redubbed Sancho by Seanachai, though I refuse to follow his instructions since Panzer Leader IS a full fledged (Has anyone ever heard of a partially fledged, or an unfledged anything? I've heard of a fledgLING, which whould certainly apply.) Squire and therefore his name SHALL be spelt correctly AND bolded ... this despite that fact that I personally detest and despise him ... as I do all others here.

Jabo! came from the fertile and ever inventive mind of yours truly ... though I'm quite sure I don't see any connection nor any reason for you to ask the question. Still, you are British and that could explain a great deal.

Joe

[Sancho Panza]

I like it. I like it ALOT. And to show my appreciation, here is a little story:

((Don't worry, I didn't write it.))

Sancho Panza tells the story of the Strawberries much to the amusement of Dame Shirlee and the townsfolk of the Village

Having feasted at the pig pull (a traditional celebration of those in the South to bless events that shape the future), Sancho, his wife Maria, Alonso and his intended, Shirlee, sat around the great hall in the Quijada household. In attendance were notables of the community. An excellent wine from the church's own abundant cellars flowed freely and as the warmth of the food, the pleasant company and the heat of the day gave way to the cool of the evening, members of the assemblage asked the Don to recount his adventures. He refused, but Sancho stepped forward without invitation and assured the group that he would amuse them with a story that would aid in their understanding of the exploits of Don Quixote. Perhaps it was because the Don felt embarrassed by the attention, or wanted to shield his future bride from the agonies of Sancho's story telling abilities, he insisted that Sancho have another round at the skin of wine, thinking that this would soften his tongue and divert his interest. Alas, it appeared only to encourage the erstwhile squire and now with his spirit built by those of the grape, he began his story.

"Not too many years ago, if I recall correctly, a group of the most prominent and respected members of the community in the land of Amazia, ventured forth on the road to Toledo. As it was a cool morn and the dew was on the grass, they stayed in the well-trod path and having traveled most of the distance the prior day were not quite a furlong from their destination. As they were enjoying the countryside and carrying on an active discussion as learned ones are known to do, their attention was diverted to the road for there in a heap was a most amazing substance in mid-road. The three travelers on seeing this find, thought how better to determine its makeup and further how to describe it."

"Sancho, Sancho, Sancho," begged the Don, "please for the sake of our audience, end this tale for the night will be past and we will be into the heat of the day before you have reached the first turn in your story."

"Thank you my past master and most generous friend, for reminding me that the road was twisted and your suggestion of a turn in my story is most apt. Let me continue."

Sancho took another generous draw from the red wine and looked to see if another might be close at hand. The town mayor seeing his glance, rose to the occasion and rolled another keg from the stores that he had helped the curate remove from the cellar just that day. Now knowing that his throat would not be dry, Sancho continued near the place where he had left off his story.

"In amazement the three friends who were traveling this long, crooked, and much twisted road to Toledo, studied the deposit which, did I say was freshly made? The biscuits were well formed, and laid in a neatly arranged steaming pile. These voyagers having very different educations pursued their enquiry into its very being, hoping not only to discover what it might be but also from what source it might have originated. The man of the church was most well trained in salvation of one's soul. The doctor known for his skills with the knife and basin had years of experience in correcting the malfunctions of the body and the educator, a man of generous proportions brought about by his spending most of his time before books with pen and paper, well into the night, under the smoky light of candles was known for his abilities to address the weakness of the mind. There you have it; mind, body and soul. If they found a friend in need, they would be able to repair him and make him whole, at least to their own satisfaction. But how to determine the solution to this enigma was another matter.

The first to examine the product of this giant of literature, as I call my contribution to the story, was the pastor. He knowing of fine wines, was possessor of a sensitive nose. As only a connoisseur can do, on bended knee, a most familiar position for this man of the cloth, placed his nose not a thumbs distance from the offal and with his lily-white right hand cause a small movement of the air above the pile, this raised the vapors to his nostrils and as he had long been known to do, took in the fragrance not unlike the way in which one places one's nose in a large goblet in which a fine wine has been only minutely added. He quaffed the air and filled his lungs with the heavenly aroma.

"Not unlike a fine but tart cheese." said the holy man. "It possesses a tinge of garlic, a bit of coumarin, but mostly it is heady not unlike a good Roquefort. Who or whatever caused the deposit here must have been of the finest mettle and possessed a quality not seen in these parts that often. We must preserve this for the benefit of mankind. I know not what it is."

"Friend priest." spoke the barber, "I think you should let me make use of my many skills and determine more the character of this product." Now the barber who was accustomed to the use of his hands in digging deep into the cavities of man and also in administering potents to the sick and infirm was known to be a chemist at heart and could therefore analyze the well-shaped briquets. Stepping aside, the man of the church said, "Brother you know how I respect your opinions in matters of the earth, please give us your opinion."

As is customary for one of his position, the surgeon, who as was well known to those who traveled with him, always carried in his knapsack, the gown that was his badge of authority, it being well splattered with the blood of those who he had with mercy served. From the knapsack, he carefully removed this fine linen covering that had never known the grace of water and with the assistance of the priest, allowed it to be draped with dignity over his shoulders and it is added, the priest tied the sash cord securely. All this being necessary so that the doctor did not contaminate his hands. Now with the gown firmly in place he carefully wiped his left and then his right hand on the folds of material in a rite of cleansing them of any filth that might have by happenchance soiled them. Now with his hands properly prepared he was able to approach the pile much as he had in times past considered the problems of a patient. Bending and using his left hand, as his right hand which was reserved for the finer things in life, he grasp the uppermost deposit and then stood upright to analyze and characterize it in detail. Placing his back to the sun, he squeezed firmly the product and noted that a thin trickle of liquid spread over his hand. With the index finger of his right hand he placed it in the flow and then moistening his lips and tongue, tasted carefully this juice. Then taking both hands, he carefully spread the parcel and examined in detail the structure. Finally he spoke.

"I perceive that this wondrous substance which has been of recent manufacture, contains brine, a small part of sulfur, perhaps some acid and without doubt, animal and vegetable proteins. The taste is not unagreeable but perhaps to one of lesser knowledge, might go unnoticed. If I had my proper knives, scalpels and forceps, I might be able to dissect and find the true essence of this material and thus gain in discovery of its source. Not unlike my religious brother, I do not know and will not guess as to what it may be. Perhaps the learned scholar will give us his judgement?"

The Master of the University system was much pleased to see that he was the one chosen to make the last judgement and thus reveal to his companions what this heap from the middle of the road might be. As a scholar, he knew well the scientific method as well as all the rules of logic which could be brought to bear in analysis.

"Brothers, for all men are my brothers, I want you to consider the environment in which we operate. The sun is now half way to its zenith, the wind is to our back as we are approaching Toledo from the South. The temperature is pleasant and promises to remain so for the remainder of the day. It is dry as is to be expected at this season."

The Don interrupted his neighbor, Sancho, by exclaiming, "Enough. We know the weather as well as you and certainly better than your actors in whatever play you are describing. But for the blessing of God, Jesus, Holy Mary, the Saints without end, and perhaps even the devil as well, I pray that you end this burdensome tale."

"Again I owe thanks to the master of the manor for reminding me of a further detail of my story." replied Sancho, who took another mighty draw on the skin before he continued. "Let me see where I was before I was forced to draw a breath and refresh my throat. I remember, we had just learned that neither the churchman or surgeon could solve the puzzle, so it remained for the scholar to do his best. The one educated in our finest university said as, I remember, "This lump for that best describes its physical characteristics, is well formed and suggestive of having passed through a die of proportions that shape and form it in due process. I note from fibers that are on the surface and that most likely extend to its interior that it is designed to retain its shape even when exposed to the weather. And good friends, note that there are an abundance of these. This would indicate that they have no great value as with coins, jewels and such, quantity reduces the appeal of possession. In hefting this single briquet, I note that it has little weight. Seeing the presence of straw within it, I judge that it has been filled with this material to reduce further its value. I proclaim it a counterfeit of whatever originally was intended, but I must admit that I know not what the original was or what this fake represents. The only thing that I can propose is that we carry back to the school a good sample so that it may be studied further." Having said this, he took several of the muffin shaped products and placed them inside his knapsack alongside the cheese and bread that was intended for their lunch.

At about this time a farmer happened along with a shovel, pushing a wheelbarrow. When he saw the three men of importance standing mid-road, he addressed them as follows, "Get away from my pile. It's mine, I found it first and am just now returning to claim the spoils."

This greatly surprised the knowing ones as such a simpleton would dare call them to task in such a manner, but being reasonable fellows they asked what this man of the soil was about. He explained, this very day, at break of the sun from its crypt, a small circus band had passed this way. They had the usual assortment of clowns, magicians, story tellers, fortune tellers, tumblers and a small number of animals of little value. Their tent and other materials of their trade were on a large wagon pulled by their greatest draw, an elephant of no small proportions. The elephant having been well fed the eve before, did what all elephants are wont to do and placed not far from the wagon, an off-fall of generous proportions.

He intended to collect the finding. Which he did, loading it into his wheelbarrow.

Seeing they were to go in the same direction as the farmer, the three men of knowledge, without offering assistance in pushing his load, walked alongside him as he toiled with his heavily ladened wheelbarrow.

Now it came to be that as they entered the edge of Toledo, they passed the Casa del Nuncio where the dwellers had been given the freedom of the morning. One particular gentleman who was in the midyear's of his life, bid them good day and asked what might be in the wheelbarrow that required four men to transport it into the city. The farmer replied, "It's manure for strawberries."

The inmate responded, "You surely must come inside and share our quarters. We put sugar on ours."

Thus, concluded Sancho's tale and it is for the audience to decide the identity of the actors in this simple play.

End.

******

[David Aitken]

WTF?

[David Aitken]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Slow-Mo-Joe-Show wrote:

Jabo! came from the fertile and ever inventive mind of yours truly ...<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Still playing your old mind games, eh Frank? (I can call you Frank, can't I? Robin Day had a hedgehog called Frank.) Unfortunately whereas most of us are at the level of Chess, you're still playing Tiddlywinks. Ah yes, I remember the first time we crossed mangoes (swords seem a bit dangerous, dont you think?)... It seems like only yesterday... yesterday... yesterday...

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>(view mists over and fades back to Joe, David and the original Peng troupe with mullet haircuts and blue jeans worn through at the knees, gathered around a 16MHz computer with a 12" screen.)

David (looking smug): Hey people, I thought you were all kidding, talking about giant hamsters and whatever, but look at this! (clicks mouse button, and everybody waits several minutes as the computer grinds away) It's really worth it... come on you stupid machine... (eventually an image comes up on the screen, showing a CM map with a platoon of SS and a Nashorn rushing towards the camera, and a giant Otter in the background crashing through the trees. A half-hearted bustle of amusement emanates from the assembly.)

Joe (sarcastically): How dare you insult us with this blatant graphical trickery! BTS would never allow a full platoon of SS Hamstertruppen to run from a mere mole!

David (crestfallen): Umm... it's not a mole, it's an otter.

Joe (indignant): What? Oh, that's what I said, an otter.

David: No you didn't, you said otter!

Joe: Rubbish, I think everyone hear can clearly testify that the word I chose was "mole".

David: That's exactly what I've been saying!

(a look of confusion creeps across Joe's face)

Andreas: I think it looks like an animal.

(everyone goes silent and casts slow glances of derision in Andreas's direction)

Joe (regaining the initiative): Look, I think it's plainly obvious that David didn't say what he did, and when he did speak he was lying with the sole intent of exposing me for the... err, I mean, perverting the course of justice and... and I intend to press charges, and...

Jon, dressed in a toga (whispers in Joe's ear): Remember, thou art not a Lawyer, thou art but a mortal banker.

Seanachai, in British officer's uniform: Roight! That's enough! Silly silly silly. This started off as a nice little sketch about giant animals in CM, but now it's just gotten silly. The man's hair is too long to be a banker, and that toga is pretty badly made.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Oh yes, I haven't forgotten, and now I'm wise to your little delusions, matey. Now if you'll oblige in showing a bit of maturity like the rest of us, you will notice that I wrote not Jabo! but simply Jabo. So where does Jabo come from? And don't say airfield...

[rleete]

David Aitken, Jabo comes from Mommy Jabo and Daddy Jabo and...well, it has to do with the birds and the bees. We'll let you in on it when you're older.

[Joe Shaw]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>So where does Jabo come from?<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> From an airfi ... <BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>And don't say airfield...<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Sorry, sorry, terribly sorry, won't happen again. My mistake.

Joe

[mensch]

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

bla.. burp.. bla<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

who let this freek in here!!??? jeezus! another bug! *pfffffsssttt* take that you!

I must say er.. this bug is fun to play in a pbem. makes me feel all good that I AM WINNING and he's loosing!.

HA!.. and double HA!

crap now he made me post when I didn't want to after that elvis fiasco.. damn bugs.

[David Aitken]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Jo Sha wrote:

Sorry, sorry, terribly sorry, won't happen again. My mistake.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Oh my god, the CMplayer obsequiance virus is spreading!!

[rleete]

Ah, yes, Mensch. And how are we feeling this morning? I was hoping it would develop into full blown bubonic plague. Should have known we couldn't get that lucky.

And yes, I am losing. But I am losing oh, so throughly and gracefully, wouldn't you agree? At least I routed that one overly curious squad.

[PawBroon]

For all the Young Ones and for those too lazy to click on provided links:

I remember you said Oyster David.

That was a nonsense obviously as Tiger jinxed it so badly as it looked like some beaver or maybe a deformed rabbit.

[Lars]

Once again Gentlewyrms,

Place Your Bets! Place Your Bets!

For your entertainment we now present the second matchup of SSN scum. StinkinOrgan has also requested a game of “Crodaburg”. Seems “Jabo!” just wasn’t his cup of tea. The race for the bottom of the Cess continues. Who will get the low score in this one? StinkinOrgan or Buzzbuzzbuzz?

Place Your Bets! Place Your Bets!

In the first matchup of SSN scum in “Jabo!”:

StinkinOrgan – running like hell, actually is doing rather well for “Jabo!”.

PoopooWiper4/2 – needs to send a fecking turn. Hear me boy?

StinkinOrgan, I admire your spirit but I question your sanity.

BTW, Happy Birthday Mace, did you get the cake with the dancing ewe inside?

Check this link and let me know if you need any particular pics. http://www.cafsmw.org/AirPowerDisplay/aircraft01.shtml

edited to add they just updated the list http://www.cafsmw.org/airshow/aircraft.html

[ 08-03-2001: Message edited by: Lars ]

[jdmorse]

Mace All the best, mate.

Oi Oi Oi

baa baa...eep!

[imported_Wildman]

TEN-SHUT!

Game Updates:

Before I start my weekend hiatus, as I try to forget about you scum over the weekends, I feel the need to record the ass kickings I am dishing out.

Sr MrSpkr, he of the voweless name, can stop his incessant whining about the file. I sent it two days ago, but apparently watching the slaughter of his troops was too much and he left for Dallas Cowboy training camp.

Speedy has finally lost his +10 Wolverine as well as his last Firefly. He's down to a flamespewing Cromwell and the absolutly gamey use of artillery on my troops. Its really a disgusting display of chutpah on his part to actually drop artillery on me. I, in true knaggit fashion, dropped all of mine on the empty woods. I have 3 of 4 VL and I'm comming to kill every one of those Limey buggers.

Elvis has disappeared for the moment. However, I read about a toxic spill on the east coast. Sounds like Elvis finally emptied the diaper pail and is currently in jail pending prosecution by the EPA.

My former and entirely dispised knaggit, Marlow is happily chewing up a platoon with his Gerbils, however that full platoon on his right flank will give him serious problems and tons of Die-a-lot now.

Mark IV is out enjoying life in Californication. Lucky Bastard, I miss that place.

I still have Steve the Rat faced wonders last turn to send him, whenever the entirely inept British legal system is done having their way with him. Just go by another damn harddrive you wuss.

As for the rest of you, you will have to wait to die at my hand. In two months I will be forced to move to North Dakota, my sunny disposition will then wither and die. To ease my pain I will fight Seanachai for control of the frozen tundra. He will lose!

[Lorak]

"happy birthday to ewe,

happy birthday to ewe,

happy birthday you scum scucking ozie,

happy birthday to ewe."

Have a g'day mate!

[Joe Shaw]

Happy Birthday Mace ... assuming of course that it IS your birthday and not yet another of your ploys to cadge a free drink from the local pub!

Joe

[Mark IV]

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

(snip summary of no-'count white trash)Mark IV is out enjoying life in Californication. Lucky Bastard, I miss that place...In two months I will be forced to move to North Dakota, my sunny disposition will then wither and die.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

You got your turn this AM, and if you worked normal hours you'd know that.

As for the PRoK, you can have this whole bloody state; I would cheerfully trade it, but not the salary, for Nodak. I have been informed that I will be moving to San Diego before the end of the year; for a ciggie-smoking, whisky-drinking, gun-owning, deer-and-critter hunting slayer and eater of beasts and fishies, this is a virtual death sentence; the last stop between Fresno and perdition. Maybe if I get a second job I can afford a single-wide that isn't right on a fault line, in the path of a brush fire, within arm's reach of a freeway, discovered to have a protected species of rodent living in it, or where the next illegal immigration tunnel comes up. Oh woe, woe, woe is me... from the frying pan into the fire. Just take your stupid panzer division and kill me now.

Gotta go... time for my Spanglish lessons. Will work for electricidad.

[Mace]

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

BTW, Happy Birthday Mace, did you get the cake with the dancing ewe inside?

Check this link and let me know if you need any particular pics. http://www.cafsmw.org/AirPowerDisplay/aircraft01.shtml

<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Yep, thanks for the dancing sheep.

Mmmmmmmm...grog-porn, I just want to be left alone for a few hours. OK?

Mace

[chrisl]

head pokes above the muck

Ackk. Pffft. Spluutter. Phloooey.

wipes face

That's an experience I never want to have again. I go away for two weeks and you fill about 2.5 threads utterly full of mostly worthless cess. I had to wallow in it for way too long to catch up on the fate of Seanachai (I still can't bring myself to fully bold his name, maybe after his uncivil rights are fully restored). I may have to poke out my eyes for safety and develop an audio-only interface for putting orders into CM and observing the turn outcomes. That was miserable.

Despite all of your greatest hopes, I managed (by mere inches) to avoid being eaten by a bear, and lost only a pint or so of blood to the damn mosquitoes.

I also now happen to be short on games, since I finished my last one just before I left, and so I have now been CM-free for about 2.2 weeks. The horror.

A few points:

Elvis:

I number files. It started innocently enough, in my PBEM youth (in the gold demo--I played the beta for a long time only against the AI) I played against someone who corrupted me, and had a complex naming scheme involving putting the name of whose turn it was and whether it was a movie or orders file. The plan (which was followed) was to swap passswords after the game to see what the other guy could see. I continued in this way, renaming files to match the convention and occasionally even doing the password swap.

Life was good.

Then I played a few more, people I played with used other schemes (abc; 1,2,3...) and I got lazy. It was a pain to type in all those silly letters to say whose turn it was. I started numbering files sequentially. It was easy, and I had played enough that I didn't care if the file described whose turn it was. Back in those days I used a different password for each game, and still occasionally swapped at the end (though usually not, and even then I didn't always look at many turns from the other side). I even started a spreadsheet to keep track of opponents, which canned scenarios I had played, the passwords (for both sides) and the scores.

Then I dipped a toe in the cesspool.

I stopped using different passwords, since my brain became feeble and unable to remember anything. I stopped maintaining the spreadsheet, as I was playing mostly QBs and build with a third party. I stopped swapping passwords at the end (since I could tell what was likely to be visible or not, and guess what my opponent was doing, and besides, I would have had to use more passwords than my doorknob-like memory could retain). Life was much better. I continued to number files, and at the end of the game throw them all out. I never really looked at them again, but I kept them and then threw them out later. I don't know why.

Then I discovered something. Sometimes it's actually useful (especially when working with a thoroughly addled brain) to go back several turns and watch something. To see how many troops were showing on each of the little infantry units before they turned into little crosses or circles in the woods. To listen for the "bang" of a transmission blowing on muddy ground to see if that tank that hasn't moved for three turns is really immobilized or just faking. I sometimes notice something that I missed earlier. Gamey? Probably, but not much worse than blowing the bridge in mensch's scenario. I will continue to number, and when I play you I will try to send you files that have non-sequential turn numbers that are both interesting and not monotonic. Sometimes I'll name the files after another member of the pool, or maybe one of the cats (if you get a file called Stumpy you'll know it's the cat) Occasionally I will forget. On those occasions I hope you will keep your head far enough out of your nether regions (and those of others) to just rename it, play it, and send it back. If you don't like it then you can stick to playing TCP with Peng and Phil.

dalem (what are you, anyway?):

You seem to be following me. Bastard. Go away. You are also a fool. I, too, went from Ann Arbor to Minneapolis (via Boston, however). If you follow me to LA then I will have to pull your eyeballs out your ears or something equally unpleasant. Ann Arbor was good back then, much less flashy and yuppie than it is now. Though it will always be far preferable to East Lansing.

Minneapolis is much colder and darker than A^2. You will have parts of your body freeze and fall off. Your eyeballs and teeth will shatter from the cold. Your ears will turn white, and then green, and finally black with a texture of leather before they are finally bitten off by the geek at the Minnesota State Fair while you are waiting in line to buy some food-on-a-stick. And the girls won't come near you, because they are all engaged by their junior year of high school, and married as soon as they get out. Besides, you're icky. And everyone there talks like they're in the movie "Fargo".

Shaw:

You insult me. You went on a tirade about how evil a scenario creator that Peng is, and neglect my evil works of art. I made "Event Horizon" with it's bizarre reinforcements. I scared dorosh and his canucks away from the pool with "Juno" based on the normandy landings (to the extent that there were germans, canadians, and a beach in both). If you want evil scenarios, ask me to make one next time.

[Joe Shaw]

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Shaw: You insult me.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Oh it wasn't intentional ... mind you I'm pleased with the result anyway but it really shouldn't count unless I try.

Joe

[Agua Perdido]

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

It is so noted and recorded.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Dammit, Lorak, how many goddamn times do I have to post this? Do I have to name the next MBT incarnation, "The Peng Challenge Thread in which I proclaim (for the purpose of Lorak noting and recording it) that I, Agua Perdido, defeated Seanachai in a game of CM"?

Me: Win

Seanachai: Not Win

You: Note and record

Fix or do somefink!

Agua Perdido

PS: Yes, Joe Shaw, I am holding your next turn hostage until my demands are met. And then probably a few days more just for the hell of it.

[offtaskagain]

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

As for the rest of you, you will have to wait to die at my hand. In two months I will be forced to move to North Dakota, my sunny disposition will then wither and die. To ease my pain I will fight Seanachai for control of the frozen tundra. He will lose!<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Why not Minot? Fortunately, I was too young to realize the tragedy when I was forcibly relocated there after sunny, warm, tropical Okinawa. I hope you start to glow and rot after having half of the United States' nuclear arsenal in your backyard.

[Moriarty]

Pwbrn, y gt, whr th frk s th stp? r dd y gt lst tryng t wrk th scnr edtr?

Y knw, ths s lk tryng t spk Scttsh, y bstrrd ... nd GSF s bstrrrd t

[ 08-04-2001: Message edited by: Moriarty ]

[Goanna]

It seems the court of public opinion has taken its toll on poor Elvis and he has stopped attempting to blow the bridge and win the Blood Hamster match like an actuary (which we all know is an accountant without the sense of humour). Yeah, like I was going to rush a bunch of guys up to let you shoot at them instead of the bridge. You’re just lucky not to get a mailbox full of numbered files from mensch. Anyway, I’m not here to dispute the actions of gamey hammerheads. Instead, it’s time for an ÜberLizard Update!, brought to you today by the rotting corpses of Speedy and OGSF

Commander Speedy managed to scrounge a minor loss out of what really could have been a devastating defeat through the use of virtually every dirty trick in the book including manipulation of well established bugs in the CM engine such as (not a comprehensive list) mines, barbed wire and a mobile defence. Shabby play indeed. He may deserve a rematch, providing its not raining again. Maybe something from mensch if he’s done ‘playing’ with his Elvis voodoo doll. By the numbers:

Goanna (axis): 218 casualties (48KIA), 3 POW. Lost 3 HT (score 58)

Speedy (allies): 155 casualties (43 KIA), 1 POW. Lost 2 Greyhound and M4 (score 76)

No citations were issued for the forces of scaliness.

The dismemberment of OGSF was a far more grisly affair. He led the Scots Guards into a defeat that has possibly caused all of Aitkin’s relos to cease to exist. A young G.B. Shaw (not that gas-bag), who witnessed the battle for the International Herald was so inspired of the actions of the German commander to pen:

"It’s as if butcher and artist live side by side within the same man. He flayed the Scots and then danced upon their corpses"

A good sportsmanship award should be given to OGSF for putting up with this mismatch as long as he did. By the numbers then:

Goanna (axis): 133 casualties (30KIA), 5 POW. Lost 5 guns, 14 AFV (mostly Hotchkiss). (score 74)

OGSF (allies): 427 casualties (134 KIA), 4 POW. Lost 6 mortar and 32 AFV (score 26)

Mentioned in dispatches are Unt. Hofmeister and the crew of his SPW 251/9 who destroyed a platoon of Sherman IIIs before succumbing to fire from a fifth. He is recommended for a Blue Tongue, first class, with gum leaf clusters for his actions. Also recommended for award (posthumously) is Leutnant Kaufmann, who lead an ambush team consisting of one MG42, a Panzerschreck and a green rifle squad to inflict 59 casualties and knock out a Stuart tank before being overrun. Corporal Kopp, who survived, is promoted to sergeant. Leutnant Kaufmann is recommended for a Golden Talon.

Meanwhile, Pshaw is having delusions of tactical adequacy for putting several creaky, noisy M4s (that were leaking oil anyway) out of action. He will nonetheless be brought to account, oh yes, he will. Lorak was last to be heard mumbling something about a curse on my children. Moriarty owes me a file. Not enough action in the rest to bear mentioning yet.

[Lars]

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

Minneapolis is much colder and darker than A^2. You will have parts of your body freeze and fall off. Your eyeballs and teeth will shatter from the cold. Your ears will turn white, and then green, and finally black with a texture of leather before they are finally bitten off by the geek at the Minnesota State Fair while you are waiting in line to buy some food-on-a-stick.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

It's only August, wait till it really gets cold.

Mwuhahahaha.