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Oregon challenges Peng and loses! W00T!


Stuka

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So, MrPeng, is that exactly newsworthy? That's similar to proclaiming that the Earth does, indeed, orbit the Sun (rather vice-versa), i.e., it's as plain as the nose on your ill-begotten face.

If you don't care for that, I'll whip some more comma's upon your penchant ass. See if'n I don't. If'n you're lucky, I might even throw in a few apostlerophes.

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What a fun deer opener.

Hang the tree stand in the pouring rain on Friday. Get hunting clothes all wet.

Go sit in stand on Saturday in a 30 knot north wind with driving snow. Stand is facing that way, of course. Snow in the face all day long and get moderately seasick due to tree swaying.

Sunday was better. It was just plain cold, with lighter wind and snow.

Not a total loss though, I almost got a deer on the drive home with the truck.

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What a fun deer opener.

Hang the tree stand in the pouring rain on Friday. Get hunting clothes all wet.

Go sit in stand on Saturday in a 30 knot north wind with driving snow. Stand is facing that way, of course. Snow in the face all day long and get moderately seasick due to tree swaying.

Sunday was better. It was just plain cold, with lighter wind and snow.

Not a total loss though, I almost got a deer on the drive home with the truck.

If only the deer could shoot back. If you were a real man you'd staple a couple of antlers to your head and hunt them down deer-style.

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What a fun deer opener.

Hang the tree stand in the pouring rain on Friday. Get hunting clothes all wet.

Go sit in stand on Saturday in a 30 knot north wind with driving snow. Stand is facing that way, of course. Snow in the face all day long and get moderately seasick due to tree swaying.

Sunday was better. It was just plain cold, with lighter wind and snow.

Not a total loss though, I almost got a deer on the drive home with the truck.

Behold the mighty hunter.

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Oh I duuno, we hunt Beta testers pretty good.

Oh, like that's something to be proud of! Pasty-faced nerds who never go outside and have all the muscle tone of overcooked linguine.

Boy, if you can hunt them I'll bet you're hell on wheels when it comes to hunting inanimate objects.

"Shhhhh! Keep your voice down... I'm sneaking up on this task chair..."

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Cricket...you know.. the thing where players get together for three days and rub their legs together to make a sound like crickets? It is not like you have any real sports down there.

Rune

Silence! 2nd - rate colonial offspring of the Great Motherland.

As the Premier Colonial Outpost of the glorious Motherland's Empire, only WE has the right to usurp the Motherland's Great Game and turn it into our own. Not for us running around a field for 10 seconds in padded pajamas in a bastardised game of Rugby... stopping to catch our breath cos it hurts when we collide. Bunch of nancy-boys.

We basically own cricket, nowadays. Top team in the world for the last 10 years, beholden to nobody. So, we let one slip, a bit. It's those dodgy currys, does it every time.

Soon it will be time to send the South Pacific Poms home with their tails between their legs. Glory will be ours, again.

Noba.

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See? They must be some form of lower species with minimal communication abilities. Really, someone should just put them down. You know, cull the herd, so to speak. Feckin' aussies.

Meet me on the electronic field of battle. 2nd rate colonial backwoods simp.

Noba.

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What? Did I hear one of 'em whisper a challenge? Naw, couldn't be. They don't have the hormone glands for such to be the case. Aw well, maybe I can talk Lars into shooting one, just to put it out of our misery.

Coward. Come out of your hillbilly lair, show your fetid face to the sun. Become a man and defend the *cough* honour *cough* of your second-rate colonial outpost.

... Or more appropriately, your outhouse.

Of course when I win, I will crack your thick skull with the finest bat that sculpted willow has to offer. I shall be the Shane Warne to your Gatting. The Lillee to your Boycott.... and overarching all... THE Bradman to the Whole English Team.

Noba.

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