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In which Peng Challenges the Peng Challenge to er... a challenge?


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I am, as has been pointed out by the more ass-toot among ye, a pod. Pods do not really have 'birthdays' as such, as we sort of just come into being. If anyone should be blamed for me, though, I suggest the Bard is as good as any other useless git for shouldering the responsibilty.

It happened 45 years ago. 1961. A strange and bizarre year if the films of the time are to be beleived. I think though that there isn't any real film of that era, its all be produced to make us THINK that things were all in black and white, with rare colorful incidents. There wasn't permanent color until 1968. And for that we can thank the goddam hippies and their LSD or mushrooms or somfink.

Anyway, it's good to be alive. Good for me, anyway. Youse can all go pound sand if youse don't like it.

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Originally posted by rleete:

*pounds sand*

How is this supposed to help?

We can all take comfort in the fact that he is, if nothing else, one step closer to the grave.

The *understood* part of 'go pound sand' is the 'up yer arse' part.

If you've done it properly, you should not feel much better aboot anything, but on the other hand, I will have had a bit of a larf over it.

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My dear Peng,

On this, the day that you were first brought into this world, let me take but a brief moment to say, that I hope all your friends and your family join together in your home to point, mock and generally laugh at you and remind you once again, what an abyssmal embarrassment you are to the entire human race, and if I were there with them, I would joyfully suggest that we all raise you up on high, not unlike a pinata, and beat you even more senseless than you normally are, with mattocks and other, assorted garden tools.

(Run on sentence, -5 points)

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Originally posted by MrPeng:

The *understood* part of 'go pound sand' is the 'up yer arse' part.

You didn't specify. Us engineering types are all about specifics.

Originally posted by MrPeng:

If you've done it properly...

You've obviously never seen my works in progress.
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Originally posted by bauhaus:

insidious game of peek-a-boo you've been playing.

Peek-a-boo?...PEEK-a-BLOODY-BOO???

Where are we? 15 turns in or sumfink and what have I seen of your guys huh?

1 stooopid field gun stuck roight in the centre of your lines that I took out without you even seeing where the mortar squads were.... and your gamey... thats roight Im'a gonna say it....gamey bren gun carrier that drove straight out of cover into the line of fire of pretty much everyone of my guys on a suicidal scouting mission..... Veterans too hey? They sure took a beating before abandoning that sucker..

Now that sort of lunacy I've learnt to expect from Peng, and begrudging happy hatching day to him, but from you?

Oh its a portant of the final days I tells ya, doom, doom, doooom....

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Originally posted by Joe Shaw:

Oh yeah, that article about Human Division. Face it Seanachai, evolution is a done deal, a spot on truth and proven fact of nature. It's only the details that need working out.

Details have already been worked out. There are The Olde Ones and there are the little people
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Originally posted by Berlichtingen:

Peng,

So sorry to hear that your mother didn't drown you at birth

It was those damned Pro-life nurses in Maternity. Given the opportunity I'm quite sure that Mrs. Belknap would have done the "right thing."

Joe

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Originally posted by Berlichtingen:

Peng,

So sorry to hear that your mother didn't drown you at birth

Now that's what I'm talking about. I knew I could count on Berli! The rest of you lot, follow the example Berli has set forth.

Nothing like the Pope of the MBT and satan coming to terms on the way a true "birthday greeting" should be exemplified in the confines of the MBT.

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Could someone please explain all the birthday hoopla for this young punk MrPeng on October 20 when his profile appears to mention the actual date of this fiasco was October 19? Either he's wrong about his own birthday or this thread has thankfully degenerated into the meeting of the Procrastinators Club. I'll not have the sacred date of October 20 associated with the likes of an Olde One. Close MrPeng, but no cigar. tongue.gif

Birthdays on October 20:

1972 Snoop Dogg (rapper, hip hopper)

1967 Dann Gillen (songwriter)

1961 NOT MrPeng, who was one day old tongue.giftongue.gif

1958 Eric Scott (actor)

1953 Tom Petty (singer)

1952 Melanie Mayron (actress)

1952 Me :D:D:D

1951 Al Greenwood (musician)

1942 Earl Hindman (actor)

1937 Wanda Jackson (singer, songwriter)

1935 Jerry Orbach (actor)

1932 William Christopher (actor)

1931 Mickey Mantle (baseballer)

1928 Dr Joyce Brothers (Bauer) (psychologist)

1925 Art Buchwald (author/journalist)

1922 Herschel Bernardi (actor)

1913 Grandpa (Louis Marshall) Jones (country singer)

1908 Arlene Francis (Kazanjian) (actress)

1905 Ellery Queen (Frederic Dannay) (author)

1888 Bela Lugosi (Blasko) (actor)

1874 Charles Ives (musician, composer)

1854 (Jean Nicolas) Arthur Rimbaud (poet)

1632 Sir Christopher Wren (architect, astronomer, mathematician)

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Originally posted by Dave H:

Could someone please explain all the birthday hoopla for this young punk MrPeng on October 20 when his profile appears to mention the actual date of this fiasco was October 19? Either he's wrong about his own birthday or this thread has thankfully degenerated into the meeting of the Procrastinators Club. I'll not have the sacred date of October 20 associated with the likes of an Olde One. Close MrPeng, but no cigar. tongue.gif

It took a whole day's convincing by the hospital before his mother would take him home, that's why.
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WooT! Glaaad to be back! No need to mention how much you silly-saps missed me, I already know. Here is what a couple of months of spare time not wasted on the I-net can produce…

IMG_2703.jpg

A 1972 Chevy Cheyenne 4-wheel drive, with a 3” lift. A built 396 cubic inch V8 putting out right at 400 horsepower. Backed up by a turbo 350 transmission with a Corvette shift kit. And of course an after market cruise control for those highway miles on one’s way to the woods.

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