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Peng Eye For the Challenge Guy: The Grog Makeovers


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Originally posted by Mouse:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Jim Boggs:

When Mouse said:

I am unwanted, unloved, and unwashed. I will now take my dirty little rat feet and move to the General Forum, where being a rat is considered a positve.

Goodbye forever MBT.

Git. Always the contrarian, aren't you? </font>
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Originally posted by Jim Boggs:

When Mouse said:

I am unwanted, unloved, and unwashed. I will now take my dirty little rat feet and move to the General Forum, where being a rat is considered a positve.

Goodbye forever MBT.

Jim Boggs you can't go. I refuse to permit it.

I forget - does anyone own this bit of flotsam yet?

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Feh and Poot to many of you and Glerf and flarn to the rest and may none of you have any rest at all. Ever.

So ok I guess I will say a few things about this and or that those things being aboot games and stuff.

Game the eleventh: The Blood Hamster game I have going against MrSpkr rages along swimmingly. Or not - since he never sent a setup - the swine.

11: I am being killed in droves by effing CONSCRIPTS in the aforementioned Berlesque inspired muckfest in which I am involved with Elvis

XI: The BARD makes amazing progress in a snowy Alpine setting with a hoard of T-34/85s. My only hope is for bogs and immobilizations. Due to the typical CMBB God's sense of humor I have been given knives to bring to a gunfight. Snow is my AT weapon. I have a mortar or two and a trench in which to hide, but other than that - poot.

Eleventy: Berli- Words do not have the power to convey my joy - he killed a jeep with what I can only assume is a 20mm thingy gun and I shortly thereafter captured the gun crew after inflicting a single casualty. Must be a pack of sissies he's running over there. The way things usually go in a game against Berli is that I move toward his position and immediately lose half my forces and the rest die in the next two or three turns...So this is a change of pace for the better.

42: I got a minor victory out of everyone's favorite EX-pooler and Garscon du pee pee the UNBOLDED Gaylord Focker. Yes, shame of my shame I have secretly played him several times - the other games don't count of course, but this time - the time that I WON, well It counts and I am reporting it here because I know how much you all care for and have warm fuzzies aboot the dear boy.

FourTeeTOO: An outer boarder who smokes me like a cheap cigar every time we play so I won't mention him...

FortyTwo: Joe - Off Galavanting in Omaha or Goosepoop or whatever. Owes me a turn. So what else it new?

11defortdeto: Moriarity At least I can say I always beat him. Everyone always beats him. He is just so beatable.

So. that's aboot the size of it. I owe everyone files. They are being processed in the next 15 minutes. Shut up about it already.

Peng

PS have I mentioned how much I am diggin having a wireless home network? I can watch Comedy Central and play CMBB at the same time and read the BBS and email my PBEM turns. My nipples are hard I'm so excited about it...

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Originally posted by Lars:

I believe all flotsam belongs to Seanachai.

You are, indeed, all mine. Every last mother's son of you.

Oh, Berli will have his day with you eventually, but while you are here, you are mine.

I don't give a rat's arse about the fall of a sparrow, but every drunken stumble, every nicely turned phrase, and even every stupid ****e joke are read by me.

You win, and you lose, and you're just about the sorriest lot of useless pillocks that God couldn't find room for on the 'remaindered souls table', but you're still mine.

Now, and at the hour of your death, I will intercede for you.

Not in a good way, of course. I've been keeping lists, you see. A lot of you buggers are going to be damned embarrassed.

Still, it'll speak well for you that I was willing to take the time to note down all your sins.

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Originally posted by Berlichtingen:

Hey Seanachai

Now that you have captured Obg Plöbsch (after he destroyed your right flank), I thought you'd like to know the name of the other lawn dart tossin' bastard (the one removing your left flank)

STEINER!

Just surrender now, you ain't gotta chance

I've always had amazingly good luck against Berli. There have been times when it was all too apparent that God himself had stepped in, and cast Berli down into the pits of Hell (again).

But, in all fairness, I must acknowledge our current game.

Never, have so many, been screwed over so badly, by so few, by the orders of one man.

Berli is not simply beating me like a tired old drum. He is not simply making me look the fool in an 'All Posts General Forum Idjits' contest. He is, actually, making me cry.

To date, I have lost 3 of 6 SU-122s, a 45mm AT gun, a 76.2mm gun, a jeep, 2 infantry squads are 'broken', 1 Platoon HQ is 'broken', I've suffered several infantry casualties, and only one of the remaining SU-122s still has a TC.

In return, what have I to show? One light MG team eliminated, one Wooden MG Bunker eliminated, and one Tank Hunter team captured.

And how was all this devastation wrought?

By six men. Six. Two green sharpshooters, and two 2-man Tank Hunter teams.

I told a friend about it, and she said: Wow! That's like...Hollywood. I thought you said this game was really realistic.

I told her: "it is, in fact, very realistic."

And she said: 'Wow! You must really suck out loud!"

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Originally posted by Joe Shaw:

Damn you Seanachai ... I GOT behavior advice from a cross between Martha Stewart and Dr. Phil!

AND I'm in Denver ... I'm just a bit cross so I am.

Joe

Oh, it's easy to mock. And belittle. Nothing hard about 'la-la-la, oooh, here I am reading the Peng Challenge, which Grogs been made over then, eh? I wonder?'

But just you sit here night after night, Mister Justicar, and wade through a whole pool of vomit to try and get to 'the good bits'. Such as they are. And we'll see if you can come up with another 'chest clutching, rib tickling bit o' Grog mocking fun' on yer own.

And where's the 'Brethren of the 'Pool', I'd like to know? Where's them as should be helping me make mock, poke fun, and have a bit of a go at, eh?

Oh, yes, you lot are all mad for fun when it doesn't cost you anything. But ask you to step up, pull your thumb out, figure out how to type more than two sentences, and all the sudden it's all on 'poor old Seanachai', why isn't he entertaining us in the style we'd like to become accustomed to?

I've more than half a mind (which is 300% more mind than any of you lot will ever have), to just bugger off and dedicate my career to literature, or politics, or something thankless that's still less thankless than posting some form of coherency to you lot of poncing beggars.

See if I don't.

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Damn near forgot the Mescaline Orgy Update:

These things happen when you are out of your gourd on psychadelics though...

Seems word got out that we were a bit short on the Talcum Powder front. My good pal Don Rumsfeld arrived in his H2 with a couple of 50 gallon drums of the stuff. When I asked where the drums came from he slyly shook his head, put a finger to the side of his nose and whispered "you don't wanna know." I handed him his usual Brandy Alexander and showed him to the deck where Uma Thurman was doing a bit from Kill Bill with an effigy of Mr Clinton much to the delight of bad boy Newt Gingrich. Newt looked smashing in his leopard print speedos and raybans. He chuckled and pushed Uma into the pool then dove in after her and removed her DKNY swimsuit top. Hillary C. was taking it all in and smiled quietly to herself. I took her upstairs and showed her my etchings and my lighter side...

Things started getting out of hand when "Big" John Ashcroft 'arrested' my 17 year old mexican/canadian immigrant pool-boy Miguel Dorosh {no relation to Grog Dorosh} and held him in 'custody' for 'questioning' in 'GitMo'. (My shed {Yes! the very same SHED where my own stockpile of WMD were found!}) ***Note to self*** Big John HATES to be called "Mr Ass-Croft" ***end note***

The Tequilla was flowing and the mescaline halos were glowing in full force when the evening's entertainment arrived. Barbara Streisand was radiant in a gown by some bloody awful desginer that no-one but the hopelessly pretentious gives a tinker's cuss about. She delighted the crowd with covers of the Clash's Police and Thieves, and Burt Bacharach's Raindrops accompianied by a shower of urine from abused pregnant women who work in third world sweatshops for Nike and Kathy Lee. But the highlight of the show was obviously the lesbian love-making sensation of Babs and her newly found carpet munching honey Dianne Finestein the Honorable Senator from Californication.

For a surprise finale Babs filled the swimming pool with three-day-old dead squid, dove in and allowed herself to be humped to death 37 by leperous goats. Dianne wept. Newt laughed and claimed one of the goats {"Jasper" I think}, and Big John A borrowed my shovel to bury the body of Miguel the pool-boy - who had resisted 'arrest' the third or fourth go-round.

The powder came in handy for covering up the stank of human and cephalopodic fluids oozing out of the pool, and has helped to ease the rash and sore areas a bit too. ***note to self*** NEVER let H use a strap-on again! ***end note***

So, what did YOU guys do last weekend?

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Originally posted by Seanachai:

I always hope for better, for the children.

I hope that the stupidity, drivel, and 'grinning idiocy with the pants around the ankles' bit will pass over the little ones.

Well if you can keep 'em off the Peng you will be making headway. And for the love of Jesus don't let them read any MrPeng posts.

The whole political stank made it tad unbearable. Christ on a crutch this isn't the feckin General Forum. Show some dignity.

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Originally posted by mike_the_squire:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Seanachai:

I always hope for better, for the children.

I hope that the stupidity, drivel, and 'grinning idiocy with the pants around the ankles' bit will pass over the little ones.

Well if you can keep 'em off the Peng you will be making headway. And for the love of Jesus don't let them read any MrPeng posts.

The whole political stank made it tad unbearable. Christ on a crutch this isn't the feckin General Forum. Show some dignity. </font>

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Well, by all means, lets put this sing-song at the end of this thread. No need to discomfit anyone. No need, actually, to even acknowledge the world passing by.

Best place for it, actually. Just a bit o' nonsense. Just another sing-song gone astray, as it were.

When all is said and done.

She rises from a double bed, and puts her blue dress on

And goes out to the kitchen where the table's set for one

She imagines there's a gentleman, where there's just a winter's sun

Their life had just begun.

She wanders to the window, and gazes at the cold

And looks back at the letter that is lying on the floor

That was brought by a man in uniform from the Secretary of War

Regrets come to her door.

Old men talk of the Beast that held the Germans in its sway

And we gave 'em bloody hell until we drove the Beast away

But the Beast got up, and He looked around, and He crossed the northern seas

And He settled in with you and me.

Broad is the road that leads to death

that's what the poets say

The thousands that walk together there go blindly on their way

Wisdom shows a narrow path, available to Man

But it doesn't play as well on CNN.

You talk too much about patriotism

and your fancy flying bombs

But modern war is a bloody hell,

when all is said and done

The rich will feast on contracts

and the poor are buried in sand

that's how its always been.

Back in the kitchen, she's sitting there alone

And will sit right there for another 40 years till God will bring her home

It's one more day in the Land of the Beast, beneath the winter's sun

When all is said and done.

"When All Is Said"

-Farm Accident

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