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Will CMBB Properly Model the Peng Challenge Thread?


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Originally posted by dalem:

So simple hatred is not enough anymore. We need words, we need stories, we need forms filled out in triplicate, we need recipes.

Ask and you shall receive. Herewith a journal of my journey to the undiscovered country known as South Carolina:

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Slappy Daze

It was one of those days when all Nature seemed to shout “Fore!” The sun shone, a breeze blew, and the thermometer registered a balmy 76° Fahrenheit – in Celsius that would be much warmer than anywhere in Northern Europe at this time of year. Unfortunately I wasn’t to be playing the Grand Game that day. Instead I was heading south of the border (the North Carolina-South Carolina border, that is) for shooting of a rather different kind courtesy of Señor Slapdragon, a.k.a. Steve “Two Belts” Jackson.

The drive down was uneventful, save for the single mistake of purchasing a bottle of iced tea at the first rest area, a decision which resulted in my visiting just about every other rest area between Greensboro and Charlotte. Still, the roads were as clear as Steve’s directions, local law enforcement saw fit to bless my driving with benign indifference, and I rolled into the outskirts of Columbia, SC a scant four hours after my departure just as the Dixie sunset turned the horizon to a swath of pink stucco.

Upon my arrival I was greeted by Steve and his lovely wife. (As an aside, why is it that those Cesspoolers who actually contrive to meet members of the opposite sex generally manage to marry well above the expectations consistent with their looks, wealth, personalities, and bodily hygiene? A question for another day.) After liquid refreshment for the weary traveler, we headed out to one of Columbia’s fine local restaurants (one of three, apparently), where Steve stood me a chicken kabob of distinction.

Thus restored, we proceeded to the main purpose of my journey: playing with things that go ‘bang!’ (sit down, Bauhaus!) Since Steve’s apartment doesn’t actually allow live fire on its premises, we spent the evening rehearsing various weapon handling and law enforcement techniques as practiced by the Richland County Sheriff’s Department. These included drawing from concealment, weapon protection, identification of suspects driving while Black, and the “why are you repeatedly hitting your head against that concrete pillar while in my custody?” maneuver.

Exhausted from our recreation, I spent a pleasant night’s sleep interrupted only by the evocative whistle of a freight train at 1:30 a.m., 3:42 a.m., 5:05 a.m., and 6:30 a.m. Then it was time to head for the range where we had a pleasant time blasting off large quantities of ammunition at paper targets. The only blot on the day was the range’s unreasoning refusal to let us practice with Steve’s departmental-issue flamethrower.

Banging away all morning sets one up with a sharp appetite, so after depositing our weapons back at Steve’s place, we headed out for lunch, followed by a tour of the University of South Carolina’s campus. Then it was time for the wayfarer to steer his ship by the homeward star. We parted friends, though I have to admit I was a bit surprised when Steve gave me a manly yet intimate farewell hug.

But my biggest surprise was yet to come. I confess I thought it odd to be pulled over a few miles out of Columbia while proceeding at 68 mph in a 70 mph zone. I found it even stranger that the Deputy should ask me to step out of the car, put my hands over my head, and spread my legs and that he should subject me to some intimate yet manly (stress on the intimate) handling. And I will admit to being quite nonplussed when his search of my left-side jacket pocket – which he had somehow contrived to leave for last – resulted in a small Ziploc™ bag of a fine white powder.

Events proceeded rather quickly thereafter. A large, white, unmarked van without rear windows appeared at the roadside with remarkable speed. When I was bundled into it I saw that it contained a remarkable number of sheriff’s deputies. Then one of them uttered the words, “Yep, this is the guy. Treat him like a Haitian,” after which my memory is something of a blur.

I awoke some time later underneath a briar bush, feeling rather sore in some quite unusual places, and smelling of several different animals. My car was parked a few yards away. Wearily, I crawled into the driver’s seat, grateful that I would soon be home, yet dreading the cost of cleaning the upholstery. As I fastened my seat belt I looked up to see that I was almost directly underneath a sign that said, “You are now leaving South Carolina. Y’all come back soon.”

----

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Crap, Ethan, that sig is so damned funny. Hell, it's almost as funny as Dalem on the defence!

Agua Guy -

If I were to read between the lines of your post I might think that you take issue with me.

And I thought we were tight.

Now, if you keep talking like that you may actually get me to believe that you don't like me.

Ask Dalem or Hiram what I do to people who don't like me.

I beat them like the red-headed donkey they are.

So check you tone, Agua Guy before I check it for you.

You have been warned.

Cordially Yours,

Croda

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Ahh, crap.

Dalem: Loss

Croda: That other thing we don't track any longer.

My hate stood me in good stead as I killed many, many khaki-wearing gangsters and blew up many tracked things. But the hated one had the better of the day.

Kerflumptin.

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Originally posted by dalem:

Ahh, crap.

Dalem: Loss

Croda: That other thing we don't track any longer.

My hate stood me in good stead as I killed many, many khaki-wearing gangsters and blew up many tracked things. But the hated one had the better of the day.

Kerflumptin.

Innocent Bystander 1: Why doesn't Dalem's dog have any ears?

Innocent Bystander 2: Croda took them.

Innocent Bystander 1: Wouldn't you think Dalem would have learned by now?

Innocent Bystander 2: One would think so.

Innocent Bystander 1: Well, he isn't going to try to fight Croda again, is he?

Innocent Bystander 2: I believe he is.

Innocent Bystander 1: I feel sorry for him.

Innocent Bystander 2: So do I.

Croda: So do I.

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The tediously slow PondScum wrote:

[QB]

Generosity? Worthy opponents?? COMPROMISE?! ...RETURN THE FECKIN' SETUP ALREADY.

[QB]

I will speak once more of these things, though you will surely not understand. I am generous to give such an unworthy idjit any time at all, let alone a second chance. You are not even worthy of the great Berli's excrement, and the piece you chose is totally unsuited to my purpose, and therefore utterly useless. Anyone who can't see the value in the underhanded art of compromise is beyond all hope, and is therefore deserving of a spot at the bottom of my dance card.

I'll be sending you a jug of bleach to swim in, if you dare!

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Originally posted by Croda:

So check you tone, Agua Guy before I check it for you.

Taking up a second job as a piano-tuner, are we? Yes, I can see where Hiram or dalem might quail with terror before your offer to break out the tuning forks--or do you just tap your forehead with a ball-peen hammer and listen to that happy, prolonged BOOOONNNGGG reverberating in the great emptiness within? As I recall, the last time we traded pointy/'splodey things, your half of the snow was quite a bit more bloodstained and corpse-ridden than mine. Ask not for whom your head tolls. It tolls for thee.

Agua Perdido

[Mind you, I never said I didn't like Croda, just that he's a complete and utter bastard and we all hate him.]

[Oh, and he's a brainless prat.]

[This message was not edited.]

[Edited to add: oh, yes it was!]

[ January 31, 2002, 03:26 PM: Message edited by: Agua Perdido ]

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Guest PondScum

Pond Update!

Darth Berli: where he gets these magic Shermans from I do not know - they refuse to spout flame and smoke as everyone knows should happen. On the upside, one platoon of his ran straight into an artillery barrage, and another that is gamily hugging the map edge learnt the hard way what happens when a hidden machine gun opens up. The only thing that pains me is that squad will be listed as "Ok" in the final screen, when they should by all rights be listed as"Ran screaming off the edge of the world."

Abn_Ranger87: another edge-hugger. Daimler to the left of me, pop-gun to the right of me. If I were him I'd stick to those edges: the platoon that he moved up the middle is running screaming for the rear. Well, the four men that are left, anyway. Early days yet, so much more screaming to come. Possibly from me.

Noba: my merry French hordes have put on an interpretive Halftrack Dance of Death, sure to win major awards if it wasn't for this blasted war thingy going on. The audience are a remarkably... BRAVE... platoon that he has sent charging into my lines. I'm not sure if he quite understands that I'm the one supposed to be doing the moving and attacking thing here.

Idjit Yeknod: My pathetically small band of French waiters have staked out all three flags for 12 turns, and what has he done? Dropped artillery. Pah. I'm not sure if he quite understands that he's the one supposed to be doing the moving and attacking thing here. Probably too busy trying to persuade his master to give him a Squire's Quest. Such as finding his 'nads.

Sledge59: still afraid of the French. Also sadly lacking in a Squire's Quest.

BilgeRat: was that a challenge or a squeak? Mouse, you haven't reproduced, have you? Normally I would assume that you'd just brought a friend along, but in your case that's clearly impossible.

[ January 31, 2002, 05:07 PM: Message edited by: PondScum ]

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Originally posted by Agua Perdido:

Now wait aaaaaaaaa minute.

You know as well as I do that our foray into that battle was merely an exercise in proving jasoncawley@ameritech.nethomeofthewhopper100billionservedwouldyoulikefrieswiththat's theory that Fallschmjager can't fight in the snow because their boots get sloggy. <SARCASM>And as always happens</SARCASM> he was proven right.

Knowing that, you cannot claim victory as I was simply seeing history through to its logical conclusion.

If you feel the need to have your elbows fed to rabid squirrels, then please feel free to cover them in acorn juice and lay beneath an oak tree. If however you'd like to prove you manliness, then go to the gym and pat guys on the ass in the shower. But if you'd like to try to win Dalem's dog's ears, then send me a setup.

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Originally posted by PondScum:

Darth Berli: where he gets these magic Shermans from I do not know - they refuse to spout flame and smoke as everyone knows should happen.

If your bunker could hit the broadside of a barn, they might. As it is, I don't know why I bother being careful

On the upside, one platoon of his ran straight into an artillery barrage,
No, they didn't... they ran up there... sat around for a bit and then your arty arrived. I'll be leaving that position now

and another that is gamily hugging the map edge learnt the hard way what happens when a hidden machine gun opens up. The only thing that pains me is that squad will be listed as "Ok" in the final screen, when they should by all rights be listed under "Ran screaming off the edge of the world."
That was a team you twit, and it found where your pillbox was... now I'm going to destroy the pillbox and get on with life

[ January 31, 2002, 04:22 PM: Message edited by: Berlichtingen ]

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Originally posted by Noba:

Premiers, 1994,1992.

Did I mention they beat Geelong both times?

Right, sunshine!

If I was in the habit of buying christmas cards and sending them to cesspooler SSNs, Serfs and other lowly lifeforms to wish them a 'festering' season, I would have you crossed off the list vigorously and with some intent!

BaaaaAAAAAAAaaaastard!

Mace

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OGSF

Liege, battle reports:

PondDuck, FECKIN, SODDIN MAP... I will not elaborate further, the experience is excruciating

Gopher, FECKIN SODDIN MAP... Liege, I have entered another spiritual plane beyond the mere humdrum of winning... the sulphur-smelling rodent poses an existential dilemna, but we are free me Liege, damn it free... me forces are ruminating on grass as I write

Gates-slut, FECKIN, SODDIN MAP... Liege, the hoary hand of time is tipping the scales between jubilation or utter desolation... you know what's going to happen.

Nobbit, FECKIN, SODDIN NOBBIT... no contact, just what we want.

Marine-buoy, FECKIN, SODDIN MAP, MARINE ARTILLERY AND FECKIN PIXIES... yes me Liege, not content with employing, gamey bastiche naval artillery the snorkel-bottomfeeder refused to follow an armistice when the pixies crossed the front line... I have the moral victory and the knowledge of the Shoooooooooei helmet and the pleasure that the Eagles were thrashed... Marine-buoy, I hate you....

Idjit Yeknod

[ January 31, 2002, 05:14 PM: Message edited by: Yeknodathon ]

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Originally posted by Mace:

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

Premiers, 1994,1992.

Did I mention they beat Geelong both times?

Right, sunshine!

If I was in the habit of buying christmas cards and sending them to cesspooler SSNs, Serfs and other lowly lifeforms to wish them a 'festering' season, I would have you crossed off the list vigorously and with some intent!

BaaaaAAAAAAAaaaastard!

Mace</font>

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Originally posted by Croda:

As for Mace -

If you cannot return turns in a timely manner, then would you please ask the squirrels living in that nest atop your head to return them for you? No doubt they'll give me as good a game.

If you had paid attention to the teacher during your 'fauna and flora of other coutries' lesson at high school, rather than banging your head repeatedly on the desk and drooling incessantly, you would have learnt there are NO squirrels in Australia - ergo there are NO squirrels nesting on my head.

Now for todays Croda recipe -

Croda bake (best served during summer, in the outback)

Take one croda, bury him in hot sands, leave for 6 hours then promptly forget about him.

Mace

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Originally posted by Yeknodathon:

Geelong, gooly, gooly watcha, ging-gang-gong, ging-gang-gong

Geelong, gooly, gooly watcha, ging-gang-gong, ging-gang-gong

Hey, Geelong, Nobbit Eagles!

Yeknod

You've been standing out in the midday sun with mad dogs again, haven't you?

Mace

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Is it Feckin' GAMEY to Feckin' play a Feckin' computer GAME?

'scuse me, while I slap these guys! {doo doo doo, doo doo doo...}

SSSStupid Guys, before my eyes!

SSStupid guys, can't empathize,

Stupid guys, ain't got no brain,

What ever it is, I'd send them down the drain{doo, doo, doo; doo, doo doo; doo doo, dooo}

(edited 'cause I'm so disgusted I could hardly see)

(edited again, because malt liquor is not always my friend)

[ January 31, 2002, 09:04 PM: Message edited by: Leeo ]

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