It Don't Mean a Thing if it Ain't Got That Peng -- Challenge, that is . . .

[Michael Emrys]

Originally posted by Nidan1:

...Emrys is correct.

Oh goody! More sig line material.

Michael

[MrSpkr]

Originally posted by Nidan1:

There is no usage in the English language, which I believe, you, 37mmare a native speaker of, for par se.

Etymology grog.

Steve

[Joe Shaw]

Originally posted by MrSpkr:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Nidan1:

There is no usage in the English language, which I believe, you, 37mmare a native speaker of, for par se.

Etymology grog.

Steve </font>

[dalem]

Originally posted by Joe Shaw:

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

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Nidan1:

There is no usage in the English language, which I believe, you, 37mmare a native speaker of, for par se.

Etymology grog.

Steve </font>

[Boo Radley]

Originally posted by Nidan1:

Main Entry: per se

Pronunciation: p&r-'sA, "per-; p&r-'sE

Function: adverb

Etymology: Latin, by, of, or in itself

1 : inherently, strictly, or by operation of statute, constitutional provision or doctrine, or case law <the transaction was illegal per se> —see also negligence per se at NEGLIGENCE nuisance per se at NUISANCE

2 : without proof of special damages or reference to extrinsic circumstances <defamatory statements that were actionable per se> —compare PER QUOD

I hate to say it but Emrys is correct. In line with the context of your babblings the proper useage would have been per se . There is no usage in the English language, which I believe, you, 37mmare a native speaker of, for par se . Thus and correctly Grog Emrys is within his bounds to point out the error.

Now go to your Liege, and request somew menial tasks to perform.

Drop and give me fifty.

Dollars.

[Joe Shaw]

Originally posted by dalem:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Joe Shaw:

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

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Nidan1:

There is no usage in the English language, which I believe, you, 37mmare a native speaker of, for par se.

Etymology grog.

Steve </font>

[dalem]

Joe the Cat sez "Mrowr!"

Sten the Dog sez "Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..."

[Seanachai]

Originally posted by Boo Radley:

Drop and give me fifty.

Dollars.

I am trying to turn the image this presents into something...innocent. Childlike. Playful.

I cannot. I cannot alter the image that Boo is, somehow, involved with an act of 'pay for play', to put it nicely.

[Seanachai]

Originally posted by Joe Shaw:

... but the cat's NOT named Joe.

Joe

His cat's name is, in fact, 'Joe'. Joe the cat. Everybody knows Joe.

[dalem]

Indeed, everyone knows Joe the Cat.

His only character flaw is that he likes Papa Khann.

[Seanachai]

Originally posted by dalem:

Indeed, everyone knows Joe the Cat.

His only character flaw is that he likes Papa Khann.

Papa actually pays attention to him. The rest of us simply ask him to stop eating the leftovers off the counter behind us. I can't believe you threw away those excellent sausages I'd brought over simply because the cat had licked and gnawed on them. Hell, I would have eaten them.

Joe the cat is undoubtedly cleaner in his personal habits than Lars. For one thing, we know where Joe's tongue has been.

And cats don't remodel.

[Seanachai]

It's 3 AM, again

I'm alone, again

The 'Pool is empty

Not even a drunken Aussie in sight

Where is the Great Post

The Post that makes All Things Clear?

I am waiting.

I am always waiting

Waiting for that one, pure, brilliant moment

of laughter

of mockery

of wit

Like Quixote I sit

Mired in the ****e

That small minds bring

To the feast of great souls

Bring me giants! I shout

In a moment, without doubt

Mace will show up to ask me

Giant what?

glowers at the Thread

Everyone post something significant by tomorrow night, or I shall indulge in another bout of free verse.

[Mace]

I'd like to thank my ISP for allowing me to post to the board some 4 hours after I got home.

Sheeeeeesh, I actually had to communicate with the family tonight.

Well I did for about an hour until the kids put a restraining order on me to get me to shut up and leave them alone.

Now Noba, how's this 'I hate Telstra Bigpond' song of yours go?

Mace

Ps Giant what?

[stikkypixie]

Originally posted by Seanachai:

Everyone post something significant by tomorrow night, or I shall indulge in another bout of free verse.

I believe it is thread policiy not to give in to demands of drunken Gnomes. And by Jove I will adhere to it!

[Noba]

Something significant.

Noba.

[Boo Radley]

Originally posted by Seanachai:

Everyone post something significant by tomorrow night, or I shall indulge in another bout of free verse.

How can it be called "Free Verse" if we all end up having to pay for it?

That's what I'd like to know.

[Boo Radley]

Originally posted by Seanachai:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Boo Radley:

Drop and give me fifty.

Dollars.

I am trying to turn the image this presents into something...innocent. Childlike. Playful.

I cannot. I cannot alter the image that Boo is, somehow, involved with an act of 'pay for play', to put it nicely. </font>

[Herr Oberst]

Originally posted by Seanachai:

Everyone post something significant by tomorrow night, or I shall indulge in another bout of free verse.

Nothing worse than a drunken, maudlin gnome...

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth, upon this continent, a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that "all men are created equal"

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived, and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of it, as a final resting place for those who died here, that the nation might live. This we may, in all propriety do. But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow, this ground -- The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have hallowed it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here; while it can never forget what they did here.

It is rather for us, the living, we here be dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that, from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they here, gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve these dead shall not have died in vain; that the nation, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people by the people for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

[Joe Shaw]

I hereby demand, DEMAND I say, that dalem's cats name be changed. I had the name Joe first and I'll not be upstaged by some creature, especially not some creature that resides with dalem.

Unname that cat sirrah!

Joe

[Moraine Sedai]

Something substantial, eh?

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore-

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door

" 'T is some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door-

Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;-vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow-sorrow for the lost Lenore-

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-

Nameless here for evermore.

Then the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me-filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,

" 'T is some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-

This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you"-here I opened wide the door;-

Darkness there and nothing more."

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-

'T is the wind and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said,"art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore-

Tell me what they lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled the ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning-little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door-

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing farther then he uttered-not a feather then he fluttered-

Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before-

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."

Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden more

Of 'Never-nevermore.'"

But the Raven still beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloating o'er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee-by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite-respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh, quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!-prophet still, if bird or devil!-

By that Heaven that bends above us-by that God we both adore-

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant

Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting-

"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!-quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted-nevermore!

[Nidan1]

You may talk o' gin and beer

When you're quartered safe out 'ere,

An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it;

But when it comes to slaughter

You will do your work on water,

An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it.

Now in Injia's sunny clime,

Where I used to spend my time

A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen,

Of all them blackfaced crew

The finest man I knew

Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.

He was "Din! Din! Din!

You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din!

Hi! slippery ~hitherao~!

Water, get it! ~Panee lao~!

You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din."

The uniform 'e wore

Was nothin' much before,

An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind,

For a piece o' twisty rag

An' a goatskin water-bag

Was all the field-equipment 'e could find.

When the sweatin' troop-train lay

In a sidin' through the day,

Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl,

We shouted "Harry By!" Till our throats were bricky-dry,

Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all.

It was "Din! Din! Din!

You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been?

You put some ~juldee~ in it

Or I'll ~marrow~ you this minute

If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!"

'E would dot an' carry one

Till the longest day was done;

An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear.

If we charged or broke or cut,

You could bet your bloomin' nut,

'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear.

With 'is ~mussick~ on 'is back,

'E would skip with our attack,

An' watch us till the bugles made "Retire",

An' for all 'is dirty 'ide

'E was white, clear white, inside

When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire!

It was "Din! Din! Din!"

With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green.

When the cartridges ran out,

You could hear the front-files shout,

"Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!"

I shan't forgit the night

When I dropped be'ind the fight

With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been.

I was chokin' mad with thirst,

An' the man that spied me first

Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din.

'E lifted up my 'ead,

An' he plugged me where I bled,

An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water-green:

It was crawlin' and it stunk,

But of all the drinks I've drunk,

I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.

It was "Din! Din! Din!

'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen;

'E's chawin' up the ground,

An' 'e's kickin' all around:

For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din!"

'E carried me away

To where a dooli lay,

An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean.

'E put me safe inside,

An' just before 'e died,

"I 'ope you liked your drink", sez Gunga Din.

So I'll meet 'im later on

At the place where 'e is gone --

Where it's always double drill and no canteen;

'E'll be squattin' on the coals

Givin' drink to poor damned souls,

An' I'll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!

Yes, Din! Din! Din!

You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!

Though I've belted you and flayed you,

By the livin' Gawd that made you,

You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!

[Lars]

Originally posted by Joe Shaw:

I hereby demand, DEMAND I say, that dalem's cats name be changed. I had the name Joe first and I'll not be upstaged by some creature, especially not some creature that resides with dalem.

Unname that cat sirrah!

Joe

Hey, I'm sure the cat's not happy about it either.

[Moraine Sedai]

I suggest you change YOUR name, Joe.

How about BillyBob? Walter? Possum-breath?

[MrSpkr]

In other news, Grog Dorosh gets lessons in etiquette from Queen:

"Now, Mr. Dorosh, this is why the proper skirt wearer keeps her, err, their knees together while sitting."

Steve

[Papa Khann]

Originally posted by Seanachai:

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

Indeed, everyone knows Joe the Cat.

His only character flaw is that he likes Papa Khann.

Papa actually pays attention to him.</font>