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The Forum's not finished until the Fat Goodale waffles his last cherry


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A perfectly preserved 44 here....neither grey and crotchety nor young and stupid.

Updates:

Snickers and I continue our gropings in Road to Moscow - how I wish the T34's hadn't been downgraded to M1940's - Snickers' short-75's seem to be equipped with turret-front-seeking AP shells the dirty maggot!!

I'm predicting a total absence of al tanks from this battlefield shortly!

Mopes a lot has set himself up in defence along a wooded ridge in our game, and I'm taking my time setting up the perfect assault - a process only marred by T34's getting stuck in steppe, and smacked in the turret side as they fluff around doing particularly dumb AI-things!

And my testing of Master Maggot's Tiger-thingie-scenario is proceeding slowly - so far the Red Airfoece has wiped out all the tigers (1 dead, 1 immobile but with a gun, 1 mobile but without a gun!!) so we're going to plan B - the grin and bear it scenario. I'm happy to report that 150mm HC rounds do gut Shermans nicely, but unfortunately the 150mm IG is a bit vulnerable to rifle fire!! :(

[ October 20, 2003, 07:17 PM: Message edited by: Mike ]

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Mike you pus lick! You gott achuck that TNT with ANGER maggot!!! :mad: Otherwise it doesn't work!! :mad:

Who's playing "Blood and Scones" and what's happening with that one!?? :mad:

That's right ameoba munches I'm back and I'll slinging pus again! :mad:

Open up and say "aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh" you foul-smelling gaggle of flint-chipping knuckle-draggers! :mad: :mad:

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Teddy - how'd ya like that emotionally-disturbed, recently-released-from-prison anti-tank mine that blasted a hot fiery hole in the underside of that panther, maggot? :mad: More of that to come pus nuts.

Snarker - I fear a draw in our encounter. You just don't have the time and resources to fight through my gaggles upon gaggles of beligerent, angry Russian grunts. :mad:

Keke - slowly but surely my men are crawling, bloody and limbless, through the craters you created with that 799mm artillery barage to slither up to your trenches and murder you Krauts one by one with bitter, hot knives. Your bellies are fat and buttery and will not withstand our angry steel. :mad:

U_cv blah blah - It appears your men have been stopped "dead in their tracks" if ya know what I mean. You've barely scratched the surface of my defenses and all your men can manage to say is "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!! OOOOHHHHH GAAAAWWWWD HE'S DELIMBING UUUUSSSSSS LIKE A STEEL LIMBERJACK WITH A GRUDGE!!!!!" :mad:

:mad: :mad:

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Oh and SMOPE I have received Abbott's sceanario for our rematch, but prefer to wait until I have knocked all current PBMs from my list so that I can put 100% of my energy into slathering your amoeba-pumping flint-chipping nongs with some of my most mentally-disturbed and unstable TNT to date. This one's gonna be angry pus lips. :mad: :mad: :mad:

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Originally posted by Soddball:

Jinkies. Looks like I'm the youngest - and the prettiest, too. :D :mad:

That vacation on Corfu really gave you an inflated ego, didn't it? To whom are you comparing yourself, the Greek fishermen who all look like Zorba? :eek: :eek:

How exactly did that vacation go, anyway? Get on airplane in England, begin drinking. Land at Corfu, go to hotel, escalate drinking. Continue drinking seriously until time to get back on airplane. Drink moderately until airplane lands in England. Go home and drink some more. Next day vaguely remember vacation is over. Begin drinking heavily to forget. Sound about right? :confused: :D:D

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Originally posted by Dave H:

How exactly did that vacation go, anyway? Get on airplane in England, begin drinking. Land at Corfu, go to hotel, escalate drinking. Continue drinking seriously until time to get back on airplane. Drink moderately until airplane lands in England. Go home and drink some more. Next day vaguely remember vacation is over. Begin drinking heavily to forget. Sound about right?

Wow, Dave it's like you reached into my soul and found the perfect vacation. You wouldn't happen to be a travel agent, would you? Maybe you should consider a career change, I think you may have a talent as yet untapped.
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Originally posted by MasterGoodale:

Snarker - I fear a draw in our encounter. You just don't have the time and resources to fight through my gaggles upon gaggles of beligerent, angry Russian grunts. :mad:

:mad: :mad:

Oh, but the ones I've sliced , diced, braised and chopped with Popeil gadgets and Ginsu knives gives me 9 1/2 ' :mad: ' out of ten for plain anger alone.

[ October 21, 2003, 08:29 PM: Message edited by: Snarker ]

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Originally posted by MasterGoodale:

Keke - slowly but surely my men are crawling, bloody and limbless, through the craters you created with that 799mm artillery barage to slither up to your trenches and murder you Krauts one by one with bitter, hot knives. Your bellies are fat and buttery and will not withstand our angry steel. :mad:

Our bellies might be fat and buttery, and your men surely are crawling limbless, but we are not some fecking Krauts. We are Rumanians, you turd! :mad:
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Originally posted by Keke:

we are not some fecking Krauts. We are Rumanians, you turd! :mad:

Bwahahahaha!! Goodale makes me laugh once again when I am up to my bald head in woe, misery and work. I really should get him a gift or something.

First the electric shock fiasco and now this! Tee hee!

And don't worry youngin' Soddball — they eventually do drop.

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Hear ye, see ye, touch ye, feel ye... uh, sorry Who made me do it?!

Axe867-5309 has a rather hot date with destiny and and is wasting little time in warming things up. Pyro in training.

My sniper Panzers have reached out and touched somebody. Dave H as a matter of fact. At five cents a minute, I can afford to talk to his other four tanks to boot.

Gutes Vorlagenale seems to think I can't splatter his men in time. See what happens when you take 115 volts two times in ten minutes? Remember, it's the amps that kill. The volts just pith you...

Ahh, Becket. My Tigers have taken his beautiful little red coat, beautiful little blue trousers and beautiful little purple shoes with crimson soles and crimson linings. I'm working on the beautiful little green umbrella, and hope he doesn't trick me into racing 'round the tree until I turn into melted butter. The maggot. :mad: :mad: :mad:

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Originally posted by Snarker:

[QB] Hear ye, see ye, touch ye, feel ye... uh, sorry Who made me do it?!

My sniper Panzers have reached out and touched somebody. Dave H as a matter of fact. At five cents a minute, I can afford to talk to his other four tanks to boot.

I'm sure Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend would be touched. :rolleyes:

Sniper Panzer is right. Range over 1,100 meters and he gets a first shot kill on my brand spanking new lend lease scrap heap. I'll place the blame for this travesty squarely on Jim Boggs who got me started playing these cheap imitations of CMAK armor games. :mad:

Thanks to all for the birthday messages. All were either appreciated or taken with a very large grain of salt, as appropriate. Soddball, I don't have any grandchildren, so slow down a bit. :D:D:D

[ October 21, 2003, 09:44 PM: Message edited by: Dave H ]

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I have come to a startling conclusion.

What literary characters are obsessed with maggots, flame, violence, buttery bellies, vermin, and bad spelling?

MasterGoodale is an orc.

The buttery bellies bit was the final clue.

I shall call you MasterGrishnakh from now on, foul yrch.

(This "Return of the King is only two months away" post is brought to by the letter Eo.)

[ October 21, 2003, 10:29 PM: Message edited by: Becket ]

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