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...her occupation is listed as "Housewife" ...

Since that information was not posted at the time I checked it before writing my post, I claim conspiracy to place me at an unfair disadvantage. Or something...

...now granted some have chosen to be less than fully truthful in the past with regard to their public profile...

Yer durn tootin' they have!

...but I have it on unimpeachable authority that she is ... in fact ... a SHE!

Oh? And just precisely what would this authority consist of? Have you ever given the person in question a thorough gynecological examination? (Not that I would ever believe your claims in this regard in any case.)

Michael

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Here, let me put your mind at rest.

You forgot to drink the bottle of rum, the bottle of vodka, the bottle of tequila and the bottle of port.

You did do a hell of a job on the wine (four bottles) but forgot the champagne in the frig.

There, you need wonder no more.

And yes, it'll all be gone before you can come back over.

There was a bottle of champagne in the fridge? You...utter bastard.

Tequila is for the young and stupid, vodka is for the weak or Slavic, and I did drink the rum. Don't you pay any goddamn attention at all?

But that you let me leave your house the other night, without giving me the champagne... mind you, I drank the hell out of the wine, and I was seriously having trouble breathing... but Lars.

You have earned my displeasure.

I will offset that with the fact that you were a great host.

But I will then combine it with the fact that you would not ally with me to destroy Papa Khann, and that, in fact, I spent the last 4 hours of the game completely fecking gelded, reduced to a bloody cipher in the game, and that even though I turned against Dalem at the end to try and cast the game into your lap, and you never told me there was champagne...

Well, lad. It makes me sad.

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P.S. Has anyone else noticed that the spell check function suggests that Seanachai be changed to Sancho? It's karma, I say, and loads of it.

You post where Berli and Peng post, and you raise an eyebrow when the spell check suggests 'Sancho' when my name comes up?

Hey, boss! This neo-con whore wants to talk to you! I told him you got standards, but he says he belongs here, you know? I remember him, he was stupid a lot, but I remember him. Stupid, most of the time. But I remember him.

Seanachai waits for a response

Lawyer boy, Satan says he doesn't like you, and the Cisco Kid doesn't want to talk to you, and you need to buy me some wine, eh, if we're going to talk some more.

So, you gonna buy me some wine, or just talk big like you're buying, without putting something down on the bar?

I notice you're making fun of my donkey, and mock how I'm all raggedy, and have your eyes fixed on the fact that I'm just a poor, tattered beggar who posts here, eh?

Shine your shoes, lawyer, sir? You got some gardening to do? Maybe some roof work, last hailstorm, maybe do some remodeling, no permit?

Yeah, boyo. I'm Sancho. I know where the Windmills are. I know what loyalty means. And I know where laughter lies.

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Emrys is so universally loathed, that even his most strongest detracters will not even honor his death wish.

Just to make a point: 'most strongest' sounds like you learned English in a refugee camp. Are you drunk, or what?

And, to make another, I would honour his death wish if he has one. If I can.

A simple thing, and nothing to break the jollity levity of this place.

Nidan, you buffoon! Are you now going to tell us how you are the 'biggest best great guy ever', or are you going to review the English language and contemplate using it properly?

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It means something that politicians have known since Noah stepped off the boat: that God favors the long-winded.

Michael

So, I win then, eh?

About bloody fecking time. I thought I was going to have to simply outlive you pack of simians to achieve happiness. But now, knowing that the deck has been rigged to favour those with my peculiar and precise peculiarity of being able to go on at some length, I can rest assured that I will eventually enjoy the administrations of a passel of maidens of every persuasion, while Bob Dylan or Richard Shindell, or some such other folk singer sings his songs in the background, and I will have arrived in some recognized value of 'Paradise'.

What more could I ask? Women currently abhor me, and men hate me even more. While that is a consummation devoutly to be wished for, it didn't address the immediate concern of dancing on the edge of forever.

So, what you seem to be saying to me is, that I will be given the right to judge, break and damn everyone I need to, on the basis my ability to chew gum and post here at almost endless length?

Good. That's good.

And I will make and defend a place where my Small Friends can dance, and laugh, in this world.

Never could dance.

But I can laugh. Hear me laugh.

Do any of you fools think you can laugh like I can laugh?

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I'm sure I heard Leonard Cohen...

Did you?

I'm going to die without hearing him that final time. Can't afford it. It makes me sad.

I take comfort in coming here and listening to the howls and bellowings of you lot. And the brayings. Let us never forget the brayings.

Sometimes, the braying sings me to sleep...

Of course, I wake up eventually, and think to myself, 'What the feck was that awful goddamn noise I heard before I went to sleep'??

And then I think, 'It was life, lad. It was all part of being alive'.

And then I go back to sleep.

Feck it. I can't paddle yet, and the chances of getting another job before America opens it's eyes open wide, and realizes that The End Is Not Yet, are pretty much ****e.

But I abide.

Poorly.

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That was you laughing?

I thought it was a Baboon hooting.

Yeah, fool, that was me. I'm a short, fat bastard. I posture a lot. But I've got polished canines, and a wit bigger than yours.

I checked. Both. God bless Charles Darwin, you Aussie feck.

When you gonna come to Minneapolis?

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So, what you seem to be saying to me is, that I will be given the right to judge, break and damn everyone I need to, on the basis my ability to chew gum and post here at almost endless length?

No. But I am saying that if you were to run for some office or other, no one would think it remarkable that you are pretty much undistinguishable from the rest of the pack of corrupt animals who are running this world into the ground. Perhaps a trifle more amusing though.

Michael

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No, no, no. No Aussies on the fire. We need to maintain a low flame. I don't want my marshmallow to burn.

And I don't want to get covered in soot, and I don't want burn marks on my levis...and I don't want my stubby holder to get too warm because it'll make my beer warm too....and we wouldn't want that.

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There was a bottle of champagne in the fridge? You...utter bastard.

Tequila is for the young and stupid, vodka is for the weak or Slavic, and I did drink the rum. Don't you pay any goddamn attention at all?

But that you let me leave your house the other night, without giving me the champagne... mind you, I drank the hell out of the wine, and I was seriously having trouble breathing... but Lars.

You have earned my displeasure.

I will offset that with the fact that you were a great host.

But I will then combine it with the fact that you would not ally with me to destroy Papa Khann, and that, in fact, I spent the last 4 hours of the game completely fecking gelded, reduced to a bloody cipher in the game, and that even though I turned against Dalem at the end to try and cast the game into your lap, and you never told me there was champagne...

Well, lad. It makes me sad.

I did tell you. I even showed you the bottle. The Pinot Noir champagne? Ring a bell?

Granted, you had bigger problems at the time I showed it to you.

Next time. Next time we really kill Papa Kahn, and then drink champagne. Oh yes, next time...

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Did you?

Yes, I'm quite sure it was Leonard Cohen...

[leafing through the Paddock Book of the Leonard's Finest Nerologically Challenging Ditties]

... yes, quite certain

Your faith was strong but you needed proof

You saw me bathing on the roof

Me beauty and the moonlight overthrew you

You tried some verse but it were flat

And then enticed me with da pointy hat

And from your lips you drew the Honkey-hoo-haa

Honkey-hoo-haa, Honkey-hoo-haa

Honkey-hoo-haa, Honkey-hoo-haa

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