J Ruddy Posted January 29, 2007 Share Posted January 29, 2007 Item, qe nul soit si hardy de crier havok sur peine davoir la test coupe...? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Nidan1 Posted January 29, 2007 Share Posted January 29, 2007 The game is afoot!!!...or maybe it is a yard? ...what matters is now we have a mystery. Is Seanachai really traveling to the Emerald Isle? Does Dorosh wear a kilt strictly on ceremonial occasions? Is Leeo becoming a Superhero? All this and more will be revealed, if you send in a self-addressed stamped envelop and two labels from jars of Ovaltine to: BFC Mystery Thread PO Box 1371 Battlecreek ,Mich 12111 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
37mm Posted January 29, 2007 Share Posted January 29, 2007 Originally posted by Michael Dorosh: Truth be told, though, Sean is in no way positioned to help me evade my stalkers. In fact, if I were to turn to him for help, it would be to find even more stalkers. I don't think fleas count as stalkers... and I don't think Leeo even counts as a flea. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest konrad Posted January 30, 2007 Share Posted January 30, 2007 I think you guys are gagging for big nice picture.. there you go my pleasure link Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Leeo Posted January 30, 2007 Share Posted January 30, 2007 Thank you, konrad! That fits my current mood perfectly; hard and spiky on the outside, soft and slippery on the inside. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Boo Radley Posted January 30, 2007 Share Posted January 30, 2007 Originally posted by Leeo: Thank you, konrad! That fits my current mood perfectly; hard and spiky on the outside, soft and slippery on the inside. You're a pineapple? How fruity of you. (Not that there's anything wrong with that...) Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lars Posted January 30, 2007 Share Posted January 30, 2007 I always pictured Leeo as a Durian. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Leeo Posted January 30, 2007 Share Posted January 30, 2007 I'm more an anemone, really. A nutty anemone. Or an anemic nuttery. An anemometric gut? Crap, I keep getting confused. I blame Sir37mm. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Nidan1 Posted January 30, 2007 Share Posted January 30, 2007 Originally posted by Lars: I always pictured Leeo as a Durian. He smells like one, thats for sure. BTW Leeo I just resent our last turn, did you not get the other one on Sunday, or are you tired of being trounced by my E-Light paratroopers? [ January 30, 2007, 02:16 PM: Message edited by: Nidan1 ] Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
37mm Posted January 30, 2007 Share Posted January 30, 2007 Originally posted by Nidan1: BTW Leeo I just resent our last turn, did you not get the other one on Sunday, or are you tired of being trounced by my ELight paratroopers? He hasn't sent me a turn since then either... for once Nidan1, I expect that it's not just your usual forgetfulness. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Nidan1 Posted January 30, 2007 Share Posted January 30, 2007 Perhaps Mrs Leeo is punishing him for spending too much time stalking Dorosh and not cleaning out the garage as he was instructed to do. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Leeo Posted January 30, 2007 Share Posted January 30, 2007 Hmm... I thought I'd sent turns to the both of you forum halfwits, but perhaps it was too many fumes from the garage solvents. (It's always nice to have a garage that's operating in the black.) Turns coming soon. Oh, and I am tired of gettin kicked around by Nidan's fecking lemming-like mass of howitzers and parachutists. Not half as tired as I am of kicking around 37mm's unfit troops, however. Sigh. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Leeo Posted January 30, 2007 Share Posted January 30, 2007 Oh, and I HATE <small>Duran Duran</small>. You fecking pissants. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mace Posted January 30, 2007 Share Posted January 30, 2007 Originally posted by Leeo: Oh, and I HATE <small>Duran Duran</small>. You fecking pissants. You must admit the Girls on Film video was pretty interesting tho. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Leeo Posted January 31, 2007 Share Posted January 31, 2007 Girls on Film are always a welcome sight. Well, unless they happen to be Joe's (<big>Duhn</big> Duhn Duhn) MORMON WIVES!! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Boo Radley Posted January 31, 2007 Share Posted January 31, 2007 Originally posted by Seanachai: I believe we're flying out of that area and going to Manchester for a brief lay-over... My former Squire, Sir 37mm happens to live (If you can call it that...) in Manchester. I'm trying to arrange a meeting between the two of you there at the airport. You'll recognize him because he'll be the dopey looking git holding the "Mr. Feckwad" sign over his head. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Seanachai Posted January 31, 2007 Share Posted January 31, 2007 It is an exercise in what I like to call 'Not hating yourself so much, and being willing to cut yourself a break', to watch a small personality develop. No, I'm not talking about Boo. I'm talking about my little friend, Small Emma. I know that I haven't been doing as many Tales of Small Emma, lately, but that's primarily because she's just continued to be an amazingly cute small child, but in the usual way, and cute small children are pretty much a genre. I only bring up the various 'Tales of Small Emma' when I find Small Emma to have been strangely thought provoking and bizarre, and when her being Small Emma jibes well with my particular sense of humour, or analysis of the Human Condition. For the rest of the time, she's just Small Emma, being very funny and very interesting, but in a normal child way. And, while her least moment of existence completely trumps the entire lives that some of you Tossers have hideously cobbled together, in a World where 'slap fights' between Dorosh and Leeo can occupy the consciousness of a whole panel of idiotic drunkards from every Continent on the planet, I'm not sure that the day to day amusement of knowing Small Emma will hold the attention of people who have to change their socks every time they urinate. Now, last night, I was over visiting my Small Friend. It has been both a treat, and a learning experience, to watch a personality developing. Unlike most of you lot of fecking halfwits, who have entertained me by watching your personalities deteriorate. She had received, from various relatives and her Mom, several 'dress-up' Princess costumes. Currently the Disney company has tossed aside all other marketing initiatives in order to concentrate on the 'Princess Line', and they're apparently earning more money from it then the Medellin Cocaine Cartels could have dreamed of after doing up an eight-ball and reviewing their payoffs to the Reagan Administration. So, last night, I got a 'Princess Dress-up Review'. I cannot tell you how it moves me to near tears to see this silly little child take such pleasure in the visits of her 'Grandma Steve'. Her mother has converted the strange, walk-in storage closet in their uppermost, attic 'Entertainment Room' to a place for Emma to have her stuff, and play. She ran into the closet, and changed into her 'Aurora' costume. Apparently Aurora is the Princess in 'Sleeping Beauty'. The costume involved a great deal of pink dress, and when I wanted to take her picture, she put out her hand like a traffic cop and stopped me, because she had to run back into the closet to get her tiara and jewelry. When she returned to show me, and I had properly exclaimed "Oh, Emma! You look so beautiful!", she looked silently and soulfully into my eyes, and then held out her small hand for me to take. Which I did, not knowing what the point was. And then I realized that, because she was a Princess, it was so that we could dance. So, like a lumbering, drunken bear, I stood up, and we danced around the room together. And then, in the pose she'd learned from watching countless Disney Princess movies, she stood with her hands clenched in front of her, just before her throat, and, with her eyes cast up onto heaven in the 'girl with faraway eyes' stare, she starts singing: I'm wishing, I'm wishing For the One I love To find me To fine me etc. etc. She makes a pretty good job of it. She's shaky on the tune, but she sounds properly soulful. She looks over at her Mom when ever she gets shaky on the lyrics, and her Mom, who has a beautiful singing voice, helps her out. Sometimes, when she's not sure of the words, or not sure of what the words mean, she makes up words that sound right. All this from a little moppet who stands about as tall as Tinkerbell. Then she looks at me, and says: 'Grandma Steve, you are the Prince!' And I tell her 'Oh, Emma. I am not a very good Prince.' And she thinks about that, and tells me 'Well, I am Princess Belle, and you are The Beast'. And I tell her 'Emma, that works much better. I am a pretty good Beast.' And then we played. Mainly, she ran behind the 3 x3 game table in the dormer window area and crouched behind the last chair and told me she was 'in the Castle'. I would stand in front of the chair and sing: I'm looking, I'm looking, for Emma the Princess. She's lovely, she's pretty, and wears a lovely dress' And then I would have to pretend to knock down the door (it always had to take three tries, and involved a lot of 'oofing' and grunting), and find her. When I did, of course, she would jump up and push me back out through all the passages of the castle (around the table), and shove me out the door, which she would then wave her hands over and 'make the door all strong again'. Because I was 'the Beast', you see. This amused her no end. And made me nostalgic as hell. In between, I had to be tied up and deposited in the Papasan chair by 'the gobliners', which seemed to be comprised of her two dogs, Freya and Siguna, and her baby sister, Tiny Nora. If I got too comfortable being tied up by the gobliners, Emma would come out of the Castle and free me. Then she would run back into the Castle and we'd have to go through the whole 'I've broken down the door to get you', and 'I'm pushing you out, you horrible Beast' game. How art mimics life. When her Mom put Baby Nora to bed, I got to read Emma her two favourite bedtime stories. She's got these beautifully done short versions of Hans Christian Anderson's 'Little Mermaid', and 'the Little Match Girl'. These are the two saddest, most soul-wrenching stories ever done in literature, and I don't know what sick feck decided they were appropriate for children, but I can barely get through a reading of 'the Little Mermaid', and when I have to read the 'the Little Match Girl', by the end of the story my voice is quavering and breaking so badly as I try not to weep, that I can barely finish. She just listens to them all solemn, and, like any child, has no clue as to why the goddamn stories are so sad that no adult can read them without starting to cry. And God forbid you should try to skip over any part of it, or neglect to show her each and every picture, including the final one where the little match girl is dead in the alley. She'll make you go back and put in any missing word, and show her each picture. Hans Christian Anderson was a fecking sadist. But after I've read them to her, and I've left the room and tried to get a grip, I think about this: A very small child has made me read her a story about a little mermaid who sacrifices everything for love, and who surrenders her own happiness and life rather than take revenge. And a beautiful little girl, from a well-off family has made me read her a story about a child of neglect, and abuse, and poverty, who dies alone in the streets, dreaming of a better world. And she understands nothing of the concepts in these stories. And yet she loves them, and wants to hear them every night. And when I look down at her, and I realize how dear she is to her parents, and how dear she is to me, I realize that every child should be dear to every one of us. Why should any child die alone, cold and forgotten in an alley? How can anyone permit it, or live with the knowledge that it happens? It's not a fate that will ever happen to her. She has never known poverty, or abuse, and very likely never will. Her parents are very well off. She is deeply loved, and has dozens of people, including that great, blundering idiot of a Beast, Grandma Steve, who love her, and would do anything to keep her from want or harm. And yet, she makes us read 'the Little Mermaid' and 'the Little Match Girl' night after night. It is almost as though the small, and the defenseless, and the weak hear a voice that we should all hear. A voice that tells them that they are a Princess, and that they should not die alone in an alley, from neglect, abuse and poverty. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Michael Dorosh Posted January 31, 2007 Share Posted January 31, 2007 All I get from that long-drawn out story is a small giggle at the fact that you obviously have little idea that I remove my socks to urinate for reasons too obvious to repeat here. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Stuka Posted January 31, 2007 Share Posted January 31, 2007 You were born with your 'thingey' attached to your foot? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Stuka Posted January 31, 2007 Share Posted January 31, 2007 BTW, nice story Steve. Each small Emma story makes me slightly less child-phobic and somewhat more inclined to perhaps breed one day. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Joe Shaw Posted January 31, 2007 Share Posted January 31, 2007 Originally posted by Stuka: BTW, nice story Steve. Each small Emma story makes me slightly less child-phobic and somewhat more inclined to perhaps breed one day. Oh well done then Seanachai ... it's YOU who'll be to blame one day you know. Professor: "So class, here's a conundrum for you. If you could go back in time and kill that mad Australian genocidal maniac's great grandfather, the one called Stuka, would you do it? Knowing, as we do, that it wasn't Stuka who caused those millions of deaths on Alderon IV? Or how about the role of Seanachai, the storyteller from Minnesota that inspired Stuka to have children, would you kill him?" Student: "But Sir, wasn't Seanachai killed by that mob armed with pitchforks and torches?" Professor: "Yes, he was, but not before the damage was done." Student: "Well ... we'd kill Seanachai of a certainty then, ... no crime involved there." Joe Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ales Dvorak Posted January 31, 2007 Share Posted January 31, 2007 Originally posted by Seanachai: Hans Christian Anderson was a fecking sadist.Now you realise... Love Alice Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Boo Radley Posted January 31, 2007 Share Posted January 31, 2007 Originally posted by Seanachai: 'I'm pushing you out, you horrible Beast' Wow... that takes me back to various earlier marriages! Very nice story, Seananchai. I hope it makes Leeeeeo quite happy. You do realize that all your language skills are being primarily used to keep Leeeeeo happy, don't you? How's that for the curse of higher education. Personally, I'd like to hear more stories where you're made to wear silly clothing and caper about. Man, I could eat those up with a spoon. p.s. Hey Shaw! Where's the damn podcast??? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
stikkypixie Posted January 31, 2007 Share Posted January 31, 2007 I'm Free! Free I tells ya! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Abbott Posted January 31, 2007 Share Posted January 31, 2007 Hey Jim are you out there? I am having problems with Qwest so I sent the last turn from a different email address. Have you received it as of yet? Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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