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The Peng Challenge Thread (By Popular Demand)


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I had hoped that evolution would have taken its course, and higher life forms would have evolved out of the morass that was/is the Cesspool, but I see it is not so.

So now we await the rebirth of CMBO... there is naught that has enjoined the creative and antagonistic juices in recent years (what in the world have you all been doing for the past X years??? I'm just not a modern warfare guy - not since I learned that the pastor of my church as a youth was one of the Jedburghs, worked with the OSS, jumped into France, etc, etc. Modern warfare seems too... impersonal). Technology has taken over. Feh.

Yes, some of us are returned "reincarnate", given that the progenitor - Herr Oberst - has passed away into the Great Bit-Bucket in the sky (i.e., too many OS re-installs and too many hardware rebuilds - through no fault of mine, of course - adding to that the simple passing of time, has necessitated the rebirth of a lower-cased Herr Oberst, doomed to obscurity as a newbie to the forums - even though I was one of the "Blessed Pre-orderers of CMBO").

Pshaw - not surprised to see you around, after all, who else would have you?

Rune - well met, and I *still* hate those scenarios you designed

Boo - well, enuf said.

Everyone else - eh, perhaps in time you'll rate a comment.

For now, time to finish off the last of the Lagavulin, and go to bed.

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AHOOGAH!! AHOOGAH! Let it be known now and forevermore that the mighty, the militarily talented, the strategic and tactically talented Boo Radley has mis-managed, ill-informed and generally misguided his embarrassingly abundant and overwhelmingly superior Armour, massive artillery and freaking gamey airpower into an unbelievable (if it wasn't Boo) act of pulling a draw from the jaws of victory.

Turn after turn he had sent his hoards of clanketies forwards, I'd kill one and two would appear. Honestly it was like Emrys trying to deal with his body lice before he gave up and let them have their way with him. Slowly Boo worked his way forwards under sheer weight of numbers and one by one my stout but all too few AFV defenders were knocked out. His attempt to gamily sneak forces in a roundabout route to the flags was soundly curtailed in a built up area by a single MKIV and two platoons of my brave hamstertruppen. One Shreck team took out two Shermans and still survived to game end. I trust now that Boo has learnt the folly of operating armour in a residential area...but I doubt it.

But alas and alak, as the toll mounted on my side and things began to look bleak, Boo unleashes his gamey freak'in artillery! and all hell descends on my lines...troops had no option other than to suck it up and hang in there, which they did...some of them were hanging from the tree tops while other bits hung from the streetlamps and some bits spread amongst the piles of rubble that Boo was reducing the whole village to.

Then things got worse...the steenking USAAF turned up and spent the final 5 turns spewing rockets at everything that moved, crawled, crapped itself in craters or hung from the aforementioned bits of remaining scenery.

Onced everything on my side had been killed three times over Boo bravely tiptoed his tracked armada forwards...tentatively...scared of his own shadow...mumbling to himself "I KNOW Unca Stukies lines are a cratered hell, I KNOW his buildings are smouldering rubble, I KNOW his tanks are smoking wrecks...but i'm still a'sceered of big Unca Stukey...plus I think i've soiled myself"

With trepidation my few crews that remained faced the final onslaught, they waited grimly clutching their 'low on ammo' pistols and waited for the end...and waited...and waited...then got bored...then fell asleep. The turns passed and a crushing defeat becomes a draw! W00T, W00T and thrice W00T!

Where was the courage Boo? Where was the elan? The foi gras? The champs elysees??

I hereby declare that in light of Boo Radley's feeble attacking skills that he be forevermore known as...

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French.

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You left out the parts about your hull down crack Panthers and your friggen vet Sturmpanzer. That bastard alone took out almost two platoons of my infantry as they attempted to work their way forward.

And I think the rocket attacks actually went on for seven turns. I wish they'd stopped sooner. I was afraid to advance any faster over your gutted hulks and eviscerated troops because I didn't want any friendly fire incidents.

And although technically it was a draw, I still had more points than you, so I won.

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[sneer] Spelling and punctuation grog [/sneer] And we note with interest that you did not refute the point.

Joe

What point? Your sentence was barely legible. I thought you were telling some story about how you walked all the way from the Ozarks in your bare feet.

John Mills character in Ryan's Daughter was a model of lucidity compared to you.

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Shouldn't you have said, "He is of no account"?

Must I teach you everything?

Lad ... you must keep your sources up to date ...
no-account

adj

worthless; good-for-nothing

n

a worthless person

Collins English Dictionary – Complete and Unabridged © HarperCollins Publishers 1991, 1994, 1998, 2000, 2003

I can't take the time to bring your lexicon up to speed every time you make a mistake.

Joe

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