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Does this Peng Challenge Thread make me look fat?


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If you keep telling a lie long enough, people will eventually think it is the truth...I think Josef Goebbels said this.
He said many things ... among them:

Faith move mountains, but only knowledge moves them to the right place.

So ... so there.

Joe

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And finally I'm playing Leeo ... and guess what ... BORING and I haven't made a move yet.

Joe

Lemme guess -- lots of promises, but the turns are sent back in accordance with the lunar cycle, right?

Ordinarily, I'd have pity for you, but, given that it is YOU we are talking about, I find that particular emotion lacking.

In fact, the more I consider it, the more perturbed I become. I have one (1) email game going -- with Leeo, which means I really only have .043 email games going.

I toil alone, ALONE, DAMMIT, in developing another of the great Ker Dessel* scenarios with no help from you. What -- you thought It's Saddam Hot would write itself?

Meanwhile, you sit and blather on about the niceties of locations; your prattle about obscure statements from dead leftists; you converse with Nidan, for Gawd's sake. Oh how the mighty (or at least the mentally infirm) have fallen.

I need a laugh, Shaw. Send me a setup -- CMSF, preferably. To put it in terms you can understand, you be Syrian, I be Marines, we fight. Grunt, grunt, ugh. Scenario or quick battle, it matters not.

Steve

* Ker Dessel -- when it's called a setup for a reason

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Lemme guess -- lots of promises, but the turns are sent back in accordance with the lunar cycle, right?

Ordinarily, I'd have pity for you, but, given that it is YOU we are talking about, I find that particular emotion lacking.

In fact, the more I consider it, the more perturbed I become. I have one (1) email game going -- with Leeo, which means I really only have .043 email games going.

I toil alone, ALONE, DAMMIT, in developing another of the great Ker Dessel* scenarios with no help from you. What -- you thought It's Saddam Hot would write itself?

Meanwhile, you sit and blather on about the niceties of locations; your prattle about obscure statements from dead leftists; you converse with Nidan, for Gawd's sake. Oh how the mighty (or at least the mentally infirm) have fallen.

I need a laugh, Shaw. Send me a setup -- CMSF, preferably. To put it in terms you can understand, you be Syrian, I be Marines, we fight. Grunt, grunt, ugh. Scenario or quick battle, it matters not.

Steve

* Ker Dessel -- when it's called a setup for a reason

How DARE you sir, how dare you. And after I've stuck up for you ... okay after I've considered sticking up for you ... for being the nearest thing to a right wing gun nut nut job ... after dalem of course, that we've seen in these here parts. I didn't because truth is truth after all ... not that YOU'D recognize it being a lawyer and all.

If you wanted help, and Gawd knows you need it, you could have asked but did you ... DID YOU? You did NOT! And I've my own Ker Dessel* scenarios a'cooking you know ... "The Siege of al Amo" for one.

How dare you ... setup on the way!

Joe

* Ker Dessel - When It's Called A Setup For A Reason!

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What's been on one's around for two days. And I'd remind you that we don't talk about thingies here.

Joe

Okay, granted I had the misfortune of posting a typo, but how you got "thingy" out of that just shows to the world (As if they didn't already know), that you are a sick, twisted, perverted, drooling, sweaty-palmed, ague inflicted, not-right-thinking individual.

And you have no fashion sense. (Okay, that's just a guess on my part, but I'm betting it's SPOT ON!!!)

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I just discovered the other day that Michael Emrys is an idiot. I find this to be quite obvious to all. It is exactly what I had expected of him.

Oh dear. Your usually slow mental faculties must have been rusted shut for many years. Do try and keep up... and send a turn.

Noba.

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Yes, I have re-treaded eternity, and it is mine. Terns, turns, files and mail, I've got a spring rush and am wagging some tail.

You know, a computer is a crappy place to be when the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and nature, in all her rampant rush to grow, divide, and conquer with verdant greenery, is exploding into currents of plantagenesis. Thus, the terns are delayed, the computer turned down, the sharp edges filed off, and mail torn assunder and burned in a pyre to the Gods of Spring and Junk.

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... {snipped} ... Thus, the terns are delayed, the computer turned down, the sharp edges filed off, and mail torn assunder and burned in a pyre to the Gods of Spring and Junk.
How many times must you clowns be reminded about the prohibition of thingie references here?

Joe

p.s. If it wouldn't be too much trouble and it wouldn't intrude on your worship of Mother Earth and her annual rites of Spring perhaps you could see your way clear to add ME to the interminable list of those who HAVE NOT RECEIVED A TURN FROM YOU!

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Sparky should always be capitalized.

And Leeeeo, the amount of time it took you to post that yawn-fest of a post could have been better spent sending ME a turn.

I know, I mean how bad is it that even I have to remind him to send a turn.

In your case he's probably just hoping you'll get distracted by a shiny ribbon and forget all about it.

Joe

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Reminds me of the first time I ever played Peng. It was a game of CMBB and right from turn 1, he used his armor in a devastating assault against the buildings surrounding the one victory flag. He pummeled them for a dozen or so turns until they were nothing but matchsticks. Burning matchsticks. Which, when you think about it is a pretty common state for a matchstick.

Finally, after they'd been leveled, I asked him why he had destroyed them all and he told me because it was an obvious place for me to hide my men.

It was then that I reminded him this was a Meeting Engagement and my men had yet to come anywhere near those buildings.

It was sad, but sad in a hilarious sort of way.

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As I was out paddling this evening, I was overtaken in the channel between Cedar Lake and Lake of the Isles by what I can only describe as a - Stealth Canoe.

I was a bit tired after having already done 3 hours and over 6 miles, and was lazing along in the channel, coming up on the bridge which arcs over just before you hit Lake of the Isles, again, and I realized that behind me I was hearing a soft voice saying something like 'hep', very quietly, at regular intervals. As I turned my head to look, I was presented with one of the weirder spectacles I've encountered while paddling.

It was a black canoe, moving fast through the water, being paddled by two people with black paddles. The damn thing didn't have more than maybe 4-6 inches of freeboard, showed almost no riser at front or rear, and was decked over in the middle with some sort of snap-on black tarp decking. The people paddling it were in their late 30s, early 40s, a man in the front seat and a woman at the back. The guy was dressed in a black, long-sleeve T-shirt; the woman in a more usual 'some sort of beige t-shirt with some graphic on it'. They both had some sort of 'spray apron' that covered their legs, but nothing like a traditional 'spray skirt'. They also sat...odd, especially the woman at the rear. It was like she wasn't sitting on a canoe seat, but almost more like rear shelf that also comprised the top of the canoe between the sides.

The 'hep, hep' that I was hearing was her indicating to the guy in front of her that it was time to shift sides. These freaking people were paddling with strong, fast, regular strokes and perfectly in time. Their freaking paddles were hitting the water at the exact same moment (on opposite sides, of course), with a regularity that I have almost never witnessed. When she softly said 'hep', they would switch sides to paddle, then, after 10-12 strokes, she would say it again, and again they would switch sides, with the same unnerving unity and synchronization.

I swear by the Goddess, if it had been two guys in their late 20s, I'd have been asking if Special Forces was doing some kind of training on the lakes. As it was, I was left wondering what the hell I'd just seen. If they were in training with some local group, than our invasion and subjugation of Wisconsin is well on the way.

Who in the name of all the gods paddles a black canoe, with a black decking tarp, and with black paddles, none of it sitting above the water much taller than a pop can?

It's not like the mallards need to be snuck up on. They usually swim right up to the boat looking for a bread hand-out. I make it a point to try and smack the buggers with a paddle. Wild animals shouldn't become habituated to human beings. And if they have been, then catching them just right with a high-impact plastic blade makes for tasty eating.

In my own way, I am making ducks stronger, better, and faster than they were before. Or roasted. The choice is theirs.

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May I just say that I am disappointed that Boo has already forsaken our game. He hasn't emailed me in a fortnight saying 'SEND THE TURN, YOU - (Vulgar word, another vulgar word, obscenity, unbelievably foul obscenity, obscene gerund, a vulgar noun seldom encountered since the Eastern Roman Empire fell, followed by a small smattering of curses, and capped off with a pictogram indicating that he wants me to be raised up into the air, possibly on the nose of a dolphin, but in an unnatural way).

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