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The Peng Challenge: Some Will Understand, Some Will Just Be Daft Buggers.


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(didn't I warn you about Seanachai coming back with a brand new répetoire of atrocities to murder our ears with ? Didn't I ?)

(On a lighter sidenote, Lars managed to have his forces strafed by his own planes. My dear Shaw, I do believe he's on his way to murder you setup. I *will* win this game of silly buggers.)

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Originally posted by MrSpkr:

Now, where was I? Oh yes. Consider yourself challenged to a game of CM...

Oh, dear. First dalem, and now you. Deary me, whatever shall I do? Guess I gotta buy the damn game, huh? Mind lending me the 35 bucks?
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Originally posted by rleete:

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

Now, where was I? Oh yes. Consider yourself challenged to a game of CM...

Oh, dear. First dalem, and now you. Deary me, whatever shall I do? Guess I gotta buy the damn game, huh? Mind lending me the 35 bucks? </font>
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Originally posted by rleete:

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

Now, where was I? Oh yes. Consider yourself challenged to a game of CM...

Oh, dear. First dalem, and now you. Deary me, whatever shall I do? Guess I gotta buy the damn game, huh? Mind lending me the 35 bucks? </font>
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Originally posted by Seanachai:

I have returned.

Oh well. I guess we'll all just have to live with it. Perhaps next time we can smear you down with honey before you head off to bear country.

Now, I...

shall freaking blather on about whatever pops into my pickled noggin for a while

... It was a moment I will never forget.

Who wants to bet he already forgot?

Papa

PS

You missed the boat ride and the cheeseburgers and the booze and the hot tub. You ninny.

PPS

You may hear unsubstantiated rumors claiming that I in effect fondled dalem's posterior. They are of course pure rubbish.

However, in the event anyone produces photographs, I want you to hear it here first... It may have looked like I was fondling, when in fact I was attempting to push him off the back of the boat, into the whirling propeller blades. Also, my hand never ventured below the belt.

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Mrspkr.

I challenge you because I pity you. Yes, you are an insufferable little prig. A smarmy git. A conservative with a small c, who has been happy with your station in life and just can’t work out why those other buggers won’t accept their lot. You are no doubt a member of the Jaycees, the Young Republicans, the Rotary Club, the Elks, the Shriners, any sorry little set going where you can smirk at outsiders. If you had had the wherewithal or connections to get into your local country club you would actually want to. (They wouldn’t let you in, mind you, your particular tragedy is that you don’t have the balls or the money ever to really make it, but try and content yourself with whatever pastiche you can afford to ape – the SUV, the Ranch Style Split Level, the George Foreman Grill)

And in your soul, you know it. You are trudging along to Sunday School to indoctrinate the next generation of suburbia with a heavy heart. You are wondering if your children will ever make it to the same grey, mediocre standard of relative comfort you enjoy, given the spectre of damn foreigners willing to study longer, work harder, take less pay. You are starting to think Ross Perot had a point, and that if only Bush was tough on terror and immigration and dammit, jobs for Americans, life would be better. But you have to accept the walmartisation of your kids future. You have no control of your life, you traded that long ago for the mess of pottage that is the American Suburban Dream. You have to keep up the self satisfied smirk at work and home, the facade that all will be 4% growth, that the college savings plan is enough, that your pension will cover the old peoples’ home bills, but it is cracking. You let the illusion crack here, with your petulant postings that are only a better grammar removed from the frothing maniacs.

So, I’m challenging you. Because I pity you, feel sorry for you. This forum and this game is where you can drop the smirk, take out your frustrations, try to hold back the brewing mid life crisis. So, lets go.

Think of me as your alter ego punch bag, just richer, smarter and better looking. Oh, I give you that you are probably a better golfer than I, but I get to golf on tropical courses under volcanoes, whose beauty you can only gasp at on TV, while you trudge off to a dreary flat public course, or beg for invites to clubs from members who patronise and look down on you. Heck, you probably even have to carry your own golf bags.

For a game of CMAK. I’ll take Evil Mussalman Hordes From The East (aka Indian Army, or Outsourcing Fiends Coming To Steal Your Way of Life if you want to personalise it) – you can take Heroic Defenders of Western Civilisation (aka Italians or Germans).

Best regards. Wisbech_lad

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Originally posted by Papa Khann:

You may hear unsubstantiated rumors claiming that I in effect fondled dalem's posterior. They are of course pure rubbish.

However, in the event anyone produces photographs, I want you to hear it here first... It may have looked like I was fondling, when in fact I was attempting to push him off the back of the boat, into the whirling propeller blades. Also, my hand never ventured below the belt.

I was NOT in any danger of falling into the propwash. I had a firm footing on the back decking and a firm two-handed grip on the awning frame above me, and a firm textbook arc of spent rum arcing its way into the lake behind us when you grabbed my belt, you silly sod.

THAT was disconcerting.

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Originally posted by Wisbech_lad:

***snip***

Not bad, not bad at all.

But you forgot the fact that his wife was blackballed from "Daughters of the Dumbasses Who Stayed Behind at the Alamo".

I thought she made a good effort at a reenactment by marrying him, but there you go. No pity for Okies.

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Originally posted by Papa Khann:

You may hear unsubstantiated rumors claiming that I in effect fondled dalem's posterior. They are of course pure rubbish.

However, in the event anyone produces photographs, I want you to hear it here first... It may have looked like I was fondling, when in fact I was attempting to push him off the back of the boat, into the whirling propeller blades. Also, my hand never ventured below the belt.

I bet you get along with sturmy real well. A special relationship so to speak.

I even bet that you're that new Adonis of his.

Wait that's not funny! *Bows his head in shame and walks away quietly*

[ July 14, 2004, 04:14 PM: Message edited by: stikkypixie ]

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Originally posted by Wisbech_lad:

Mrspkr.

I challenge you because I pity you....

Best regards. Wisbech_lad

Rather nicely done. Of course, it doesn't really seem like a 'taunt', as such. More like an objective look at the world. A sort of history lesson 'in the making', as it were.

Still, it was pretty cruel. I propose Wisbech_lad for Serf. This means I will have the right to take him as Squire if, after some not-yet-defined mystical process the Justicar says it's okay.

See, Joe? See how I'm jumping through all the correct hoops this time? I feel just like one of Siegfried and Roy's tigers. Of course, we know what happened to Roy eventually, don't we, Joe?

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Originally posted by Kobal2:

(didn't I warn you about Seanachai coming back with a brand new répetoire of atrocities to murder our ears with ? Didn't I ?)

And on that note, Kobal, me little lad, I'm minded of a song I heard performed on Saturday afternoon at a fantastic stage. The performer was David Lindley, but the song was written by Danny O'Keefe.

I thought of you when I heard the lyrics. It's about a relationship that's gone terribly, terribly wrong. The singer has been left with very bad feelings about their Ex. In thinking of what that Ex might have been like, I considered what you are like.

I'm sure that Dalem will also be able to relate to this jolly singsong:

He would have loved you more than Eva Braun

You would have been his kind of girl

You'd have been there right beside him

As he drove around the world

And when he stopped, you'd have pushed him on

And he'd have loved you more than Eva Braun

A broken heart is like a Nazi

And a Nazi's like the blues

The fuerher that you have

The fuerher you have to lose

He would have loved you more than Eva Braun

You would have held the secret to his heart

And when they found you in the bunker

They'd've had to tear you both apart

But if you'd said, "Argentina?" he'd have gone

And he'd have loved you more than Eva Braun

A broken heart is like a Nazi

And a Nazi's like the blues

The fuerher that you have

The fuerher you have to lose

He would have loved you more than Eva Braun

If he'd only known what fun you really are

You'd have shown him how a fresh wound's

More exciting than a scar

(He wouldn't have cared you're not a natural blonde)

And he'd have loved you more than Eva Braun

Oh, he'd have loved you more than Eva Braun

Ja, he'd have loved you more than Eva Braun

More Than Eva Braun 

-D. O'Keefe

A jolly singsong for all those of you who've lost at love...

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Originally posted by Seanachai:

I propose Wisbech_lad for Serf. This means I will have the right to take him as Squire if, after some not-yet-defined mystical process the Justicar says it's okay.

Rising and assuming an emperious pose...

As the Justicar is off doing his Justicarious duties, I, as his LEGAL proxy, do acknowledge and approve Seanachai's proposal of Wisbech_lad (Spelt, but not bolded) as Serf of the CessPool (And she shall always be here) and do allow the aforementioned Seanachai the right of first refusal.

So shall it be written (wait...my pen's out of ink...oh, here's one of those pencils I stole from the Bowl-A-Rama...)

So shall it be done.

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Originally posted by dalem:

I propose that Seanachai is a capering blowhard who looks awful in short shorts.

Given your almost pathological envy of my ability to charm and amaze with both wit and word, combined with the fact that you have never seen me wearing anything other than long pants black jeans, I wonder at your temerity.

To misquote the Prince of Denmark, my dear North Minneapolis Horatio: There is nothing either good or bad but whisky makes it so.

And, in that same spirit of the Bard of Avon, even as I am the Bard of Minnesota, and in reference to 'the Scottish Play', and you, and Papa Khann: When shall we three meet again?

How I long to hear the soft, considered, thoughtful but whimsical pratings of Papa Khann. How they perfectly counter-point your own, almost completely psychotic 'I'm comfortable with that' drooling.

I'm busy this coming Saturday and Sunday. Friday is open. Mind, I'm beyond merely broke. I am now, like Blanche Dubois, relying on the kindness of strangers. I figure, as awful as you are, you're still good for buying me a drink or two.

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