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Peng Challenges the Ninth Circle


Lars

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Didn't Chrysler used to make those? I think there was a recall out. Something about them spontaneously exploding when commanded by morons.

Michael

I suppose that's possible Michael but in this instance I was the one in command so clearly that wouldn't have been the cause.

No, I'm beginning to suspect that BFC has dropped the ball on this one and has undermodeled the survivability of M1s when I'm in command of them. Clearly this urgent matter requires immediate action on the part of BFC.

Now mind you if I'm commanding the Syrians the modeling would be correct so BFC will have to create a sub-module to determine if I'm in command first.

Steve ... don't forget that I have your phone number from our podcast ... don't make me use it.

Joe

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I agree with the moron part..... Joe's M-1A1s are blowing up in our game as well. Along with LAVs and AAVs, perhaps the common denominator is not the inadequacies of the vehicles themselves, but dare I say it......... Joe's inadequacies.

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I agree with the moron part..... Joe's M-1A1s are blowing up in our game as well. Along with LAVs and AAVs, perhaps the common denominator is not the inadequacies of the vehicles themselves, but dare I say it......... Joe's inadequacies.
No you may NOT say it. It's very clear to anyone with half a brain that (and, as I've undoubtedly said before concerning you, that would exclude YOU on account of how you don't HAVE that much brainpower) your Beloved Justicar for Life of the Peng Challenge Thread is the victim of a conspiracy that has resulted in the unwarranted loss of vehicles which should not have been lost.

I point to the fact that your Beloved Justicar for Life of the Peng Challenge Thread had decisively defeated Wolfp Mk II two games in a row, and he is a serving combat officer of Marines in Iraq.

Clearly it's not my fault but the fault of a poor design decision on the part of BFC.

Joe

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No you may NOT say it. It's very clear to anyone with half a brain that (and, as I've undoubtedly said before concerning you, that would exclude YOU on account of how you don't HAVE that much brainpower) your Beloved Justicar for Life of the Peng Challenge Thread is the victim of a conspiracy that has resulted in the unwarranted loss of vehicles which should not have been lost.

I point to the fact that your Beloved Justicar for Life of the Peng Challenge Thread had decisively defeated Wolfp Mk II two games in a row, and he is a serving combat officer of Marines in Iraq.

Clearly it's not my fault but the fault of a poor design decision on the part of BFC.

Joe

Well being from an enlisted background...er...um... in my humble experience, being an Officer of Marines does not automatically qualify one as being gifted in the brain housing group department, as we used to say in the Old Corps. So you beating him twice does not really indicate that YOU have any brains either.

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Well being from an enlisted background...er...um... in my humble experience, being an Officer of Marines does not automatically qualify one as being gifted in the brain housing group department, as we used to say in the Old Corps. So you beating him twice does not really indicate that YOU have any brains either.
Perhaps, by itself, it does not ... but when you add to that the undeniable fact that I AM your Beloved Justicar for Life of the Peng Challenge Thread the case becomes ironclad.

Joe

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Perhaps, by itself, it does not ... but when you add to that the undeniable fact that I AM your Beloved Justicar for Life of the Peng Challenge Thread the case becomes ironclad.

Joe

You are starting to waiver. How about sending me a turn, you may have some time to redeem yourself in our game. Not!

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Shhhh!

I don't think any of us here really want to learn the ugly truth behind those rumors of Joe being the cornerstone of that whole "enhancement" industry.

Bah! That's not news...everyone already knows, they're just too polite to mention it, which is really strange for this thread.

...I point to the fact that your Beloved Justicar for Life of the Peng Challenge Thread had decisively defeated Wolfp Mk II two games in a row, and he is a serving combat officer of Marines in Iraq......

Joe

I told you the sun was in my eyes...

Well being from an enlisted background...er...um... in my humble experience, being an Officer of Marines does not automatically qualify one as being gifted in the brain housing group department, as we used to say in the Old Corps. So you beating him twice does not really indicate that YOU have any brains either.

Alright Gramps...put your money where your mouth is...or your pixilated terrorists on screen...I shall send to you a setup forthwith and straight away, and...I'll even let you play the side of our beloved CORPS, should you accept the challenge; or...are...ya...too...yeller!

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Originally posted by:Wolfp MkII

Alright Gramps...put your money where your mouth is...or your pixilated terrorists on screen...I shall send to you a setup forthwith and straight away, and...I'll even let you play the side of our beloved CORPS, should you accept the challenge; or...are...ya...too...yeller!

You may send any set up you like....the last time I looked, I has not lost a CMSF battle to anyone!!!!....well maybe one, but who is counting eh?

Semper Fi...how the hell did they ever let you in my Marine Corps?

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You may send any set up you like....the last time I looked, I has not lost a CMSF battle to anyone!!!!....well maybe one, but who is counting eh?

Semper Fi...how the hell did they ever let you in my Marine Corps?

Let?..Hah!!! Try practically begged, using euphamisms and platitudes such as "Best thing since sliced bread"...and..."I want him to marry my daughter"...and my personal favorite..."The reincarnation of Lejeune himself" afterwhich I was awarded a plump scholarship, paid for by the citizens of the good ol' US of A, and promptly wasted on a History degree. Setup inbound!

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Crying out in your sleep again?

Sad.

And not capitalized, not bolded ... dalem why hast thou forsaken us?

Of course it's always possible that Seanachai is "visiting" again and has taken control of his computer ... considering the likely state that Seanachai's in it's a miracle he could even spell it right.

Joe

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I can't believe the state of parenting these days. It's like they don't even care about their kids!! My god... there is JUST NO EXCUSE for Stuka's parents not giving him some Visine.

Steve

And here we are, still. Games have come and gone, business models have played out like Waterloo, promises and denials have been shouted out like curses and prayers, and we remain.

Some play, and others don't. Some play the Old Game, and some play the New. Some play like it was religion, and others talk about religion as though it was a game.

And yet, when it comes right down to it, we are here.

And, Steve Grammont, you like us, don't you? We're not the fanboys of every developer's dream. We're not the erudite contributors of facts and information, with tables of input and output. We're neither adoring, nor contributory, nor stupid.

We come here, and we've made our own place. And, let's be frank: You like us.

Why else would we still exist? Anyone with half a brain would have crushed us long ago. Oh, you can argue that we're simply a tolerated ghetto for people who have no other place to be, not enough trouble to bother to crush, but I think there's more to it than that.

Grammont, my dear Power That Is, I think that...you like us.

I could be wrong. Gods know I've gotten it wrong before.

Bugger. The wrapper of my cigar has come off. This lot should have probably spent more time in the humidor. No problems, mate!

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Damn. Here I am, again. No prospects, no resume that doesn't read like a rap sheet, no skills except the ability to do whatever needs doing. And old. Never worried me that much when I was... less old. And every day, you read about thousands of people being let go.

I remember when I was a young man. Full of promise, and potential. Now, I'm the fecking poster child for 'Unrealized Potential'.

I get all these missives from my Old School, inviting me to get-togethers with classmates who are now doctors, lawyers, professors, businessmen and women.

How did the bastards find me? I'd move, but when I look around at the piles of ****e, the endless bookcases filled with books, and the endless jumble of cast-off electronics, I know that I can't run. I'm simply not up to packing, wondering what box to put this 'I don't know what this fecking cable is for' in.

Where will all my uniquely silly sh*te go, when I'm living under a railroad bridge? Where will my jackalope head go? Where will my three foot high chainsaw sculpture of 'Eagle with Salmon' go? There won't be a special end table for it, when I'm homeless. Where will all the weird ****e that has made it's way into my life go, when my life has nowhere to go?

My 'Death with Scythe' puppet? My lizard paw back-scratcher (made from a real lizard paw)? My bizarre wooden banana plant sculpture?

All the weird sh*te that, after a long, weird life, has puddled down here, at the end of a weird life? The strange sh*t that had no where to go, but to be with me? The 'Golfing Pig Bank'? The dozen penguin soft toys, from every era? The plastic reindeer that poops candy? The dragon that holds a temple bell in its mouth, and that can be struck with the hammer that runs down its spine, making a pleasing sound?

When I am gone, who will take care of all the weird sh*te?

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Damn. Here I am, again. No prospects, no resume that doesn't read like a rap sheet, no skills except the ability to do whatever needs doing. And old. Never worried me that much when I was... less old. And every day, you read about thousands of people being let go.

I remember when I was a young man. Full of promise, and potential. Now, I'm the fecking poster child for 'Unrealized Potential'.

I get all these missives from my Old School, inviting me to get-togethers with classmates who are now doctors, lawyers, professors, businessmen and women.

How did the bastards find me? I'd move, but when I look around at the piles of ****e, the endless bookcases filled with books, and the endless jumble of cast-off electronics, I know that I can't run. I'm simply not up to packing, wondering what box to put this 'I don't know what this fecking cable is for' in.

Where will all my uniquely silly sh*te go, when I'm living under a railroad bridge? Where will my jackalope head go? Where will my three foot high chainsaw sculpture of 'Eagle with Salmon' go? There won't be a special end table for it, when I'm homeless. Where will all the weird ****e that has made it's way into my life go, when my life has nowhere to go?

My 'Death with Scythe' puppet? My lizard paw back-scratcher (made from a real lizard paw)? My bizarre wooden banana plant sculpture?

All the weird sh*te that, after a long, weird life, has puddled down here, at the end of a weird life? The strange sh*t that had no where to go, but to be with me? The 'Golfing Pig Bank'? The dozen penguin soft toys, from every era? The plastic reindeer that poops candy? The dragon that holds a temple bell in its mouth, and that can be struck with the hammer that runs down its spine, making a pleasing sound?

When I am gone, who will take care of all the weird sh*te?

The Answer!

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I'll take the back scratcher and the pooping reindeer.....you have any gold fillings while i'm at it?

No gold fillings, you Aussie feck. But that was a damn good question. If none of my nieces or nephews want the back scratcher or reindeer, you're on the receivership list.

I can't help but wonder what hideous sexual contretemps will result when you receive them...

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