coverton: forum

Back in December of 1947, I was out tending the ice fields. At precisely 1726 and 8 seconds by the atomic clock, a winter hare came out of nowhere, with plenty of friends. I thought to myself, "oh no, this is it, the end of the ice fields". But right after that thought, as if pulled along by the very thought, I then had the revelation, "No, now is not the time of the ending of the ice fields"

This started what would become known as the Ice Field Massacre. Tales of this event would be told for time immemorial, or at least until Thursday afternoon.

I was all alone, surrounded by winter hares. And there in those very ice fields I fought them off with nothing but my wits and bare hands. Wits, bare hands, and a Colt 45.

I killed 78 in the first hour, 96 in the follow three minutes, 264 in another 57 minutes, and another 79 in the final moments of the bloodbath to come to a cool 517 total confirmed kills. I tattooed a triangle on my chest for each kill to memorialize the day. Never forgive, never forget.

Now I can hear the call of the carrots, right outside my door, and though I no longer live in the ice fields, I know that hares are once again on the march. I intend to have 1034 confirmed kills by the end of this coming storm.

Tell me now, what is that type of dedication worth to you?

I want to thank my mom, for never setting the proper example. I'd like to thank my dad for going to get a pack of smokes when I was 7. I guess the store is still restocking. I wanna give a shout to my boy Big Pharma for always having the pills in stock though, at least your not Philip Morris. Big ups to Tdog and Bizzy down on the block for hooking it up. Love you all.

Egad! What a riveting inquiry. For my money, I would have to say that running a spice trading company is the absolute hardest thing I've done. You have to contend with the British Empire for one, and House Harkonnen for another.

I do say, the most annoying thing in the world is trying to milk the sand worms while also devoting enough time to manage relations with India that they are willing to sell their cumin and coriander to you instead of the Republic of Venice. And don't even get me started on how many favors are required to be called in to get a parcel of cassia or cinnamon.

Then you have the Baron killing his direct competition and setting off a holy war that would grip the entire universe for millennia. And wouldn't you just know that CMVW had a hand in the destabilization efforts? But of course he did, who the hell else could get up to that kind of mischief in such a short amount of time?

Anyway, for your sake, I would stick to torn companies and leave the spice trade to those with a stronger constitution.

I don't really play much poker. Multiple reasons, such as I suck at it, and threads like this and the infamous Paul thread.

From these two threads I have gathered this:

1) you can't just come in and win and leave. That's scummy as f**k, you have to at least make an effort to lose all the money back to the person you won it from because winning is bad and "eat the rich", I guess. (Yes, I am over simplifying for the sake of comedy, piss off.)

2) Just giving the losing party the glimmer of hope of winning their money back will nullify point 1. It was said in the other thread that had the guy just played a few more hands and folded every time that would be cool. (by some people, others said he would need to lose some money back to be in the good graces of the unwritten poker gods.)

3) If you do give the other party some opportunities to win, but you crush them even more and take more money, you still can't leave because winning and leaving is bad, and if you make some jokes and excuses to step away, you will be called out as a scammer and scum and everyone will be told to blacklist you.

4) In essence, if you win money from a regular "top tier player" you must then lose all that money back to them or you are a subhuman.

Like I said, I don't play poker really, and mostly because of the stuff above, and the fact that I choke on poker's huge horse schlong anytime I give it a go.

Oh, and take it easy, this is mostly tongue in cheek, but also how things come across to me as a non-poker player.

OP going in for the kill

[image: imgur.com]

So, story time is it? Okay, but I'm going to ask that you kindly take a seat. You see, if you remain standing or if you aggressively sit, Colonel Mitten Von Willabrand will take great offense, and let me tell you, that is something that neither of us wants.

 

To reiterate the point and drive home the need for kindly sitting, once in the year of our lord 1986, a man called Horatio Gomez decided to stand throughout a story I was relating. The story I was regaling him with was about the time that I and the colonel met with a Canadian man who fancied himself a monarch of the Canary Islands. This struck me as odd because to the best of my knowledge, Canada does not hold dominion over the Canary Islands, though I must admit that I am not as well versed on geopolitical events as I should be, especially not back in 1947, when the Canadian man was proclaiming his position. 

 

Anyway, to get to the point, Horatio Gomez, he stood there, mouth agape at the boldness of the main antagonist of my story. All of a sudden, the colonel comes into the room, top hat affixed to his head with his little tweed smoking jacket on. He had come to the study of the rectory, you will recall we live in a rectory, to look for his pipe. Hence the tweed smoking jacket, you see.

 

Now, when the colonel entered the study and saw this brazen act of defiance of the requested kindly sitting arrangement, he went ballistic. I want you to understand this well. He was not angry. He was not furious. He was, and this cannot be understated, ballistic. Horatio Gomez never knew what hit him. There were body parts flying about the room and the blood... my god.

 

Poor Mrs. Gomez and her 13 small fatherless children are now living off of a fireman's pension. Did I mention that Horatio was a fireman? If not, he was. But, yes, now those 13 small children and their widowed mother live off of his pension. I was actually unaware that a pension would be paid out to a widow of a murder victim, but here we are.

 

Also, I don't think it hurts the case that there was no evidence left once the colonel was finished with his onslaught.

 

Well, I hope that helps with your science project or whatever silly thing you are working on. And remember to floss and take your daily vitamins prior to turning in for the night. We don't want cavities in those pearly whites and we want you to grow up big and strong. Tell mother I love her and I'll be home soon, I've almost found the milk.

What a tale! By jove it reminds me of the time that CMVW was accepted to the academy. I do believe it was the year of our Lord 1836. It was during August, likely the day of the 14th.

We toasted to the arrival of these good news with whiskey and off-key singing to the dulcet tones of Peter Gabriel. I do believe it was Shock the Monkey.

Not many people realize that Peter Gabriel is in fact a time traveling sorcerer who keeps his wizardry in his goatee.

Now you might be thinking, and rightly so, how pray tell did you, coverton and CMVW, travel back to the date that PG, as I will refer to him through on out, wrote that sweet sweet serenade?

Well dear reader, I shan't tell you that for this day. Tis a tale for another time.

Until next time, make sure to wash your ass and not just let the water trickle down it.

I too remember the first time I began to understand fractions, it was a Tuesday if I recall correctly. A Tuesday in mid July when I was in third grade.

You see, I was still in school during July when I was in third grade, because I previously did not understand fractions. You will recall from my first sentence that I explained that I first began to understand fractions on that Tuesday. Prior to this I only understood antiderivatives and discreet logic mathematics.

When I gained the knowledge and understanding of fractions it became immediately apparent that this concept would also carry me far, as you must have found in your first outing with fractions as well. I mean how else would you be able to effectively share a large pizza with your family?

Now, on to the point I was trying to make. Potatoes may offer robust nutrients like vitamin C, potassium, and vitamin B6, but they also are high in rapidly digestible carbohydrates that can quickly elevate blood sugar and insulin leading to insulin resistance. Also, due to the rapid digestion, you may begin to feel hungry soon after eating, leading you to over eat.

Have a nice day.

I dunno. There's nothing there. Like monarchs payment?

15:09:24 - 08/03/23 You set 5.56mm Rifle Round usage priority to Hollow Point

I have this log which happened in the middle of a wall push defend. I have had similar issues in the past few days during heavy attacks during wall pushes.

I was thinking that it happened because I ran out of regular ammo so I bought over 100k reg 5.56 ammo yesterday to keep it from switching to HP randomly but it did it again as the copied log indicates.

At this point I'm not sure what is causing the switch over. I am not manually switching over is the only thing I know for certain.

Nice..

Thx ched

https://photos.app.goo.gl/XJ4iahiKB1CrZSDJ7

1.8.5 on samsung s22 ultra. The issue has returned after being absent for the past few months

Ah, reworking of amusement parks. Yes, right, I had been in that field for several years during my exploration phase. Back when I was "finding myself" you see.

Father had several amusement parks whilst we lived in Grenada. Oh those were happy times, living in Dunfermline riding the wooden coasters. You see father had contracted a builder by the name of Harold St Johns, who by all rights was the best wooden rollercoaster constructor west of the Mississippi, and being in Grenada that left little room for competition.

Now The Thrill Machine '47 (that was the coasters name you see, as it was constructed in 1943 and father always had a penchant for being ahead of his time) was the fastest coaster to be constructed at the time, world wide.

Several years later, when I was finding myself, you remember, I mentioned this previously, I was tasked by the US government during their 4 day invasion, to retro fit the coaster so that the soldiers had a recreational activity to enjoy.

And that my friends is how I learned to stop worrying and enjoy a nice Ramos Fizz in a dimly lit bar in Greenwich Village

In the old country I had a cousin who was.... common, we'll say.

This cousin would wake up three hours before dawn and go to the pasture to milk the cow.

After milking the cow my cousin would pour himself a tall glass of freshly squoze milk to start the day.

Problem being, the only cow we had in the pasture was a stud bull.

One day my cousin was gone and I hadn't seen him since, but here you are starting a thread on this crazy game we call torn.

Delightful dear cousin. Would you like to go bowling?

This is precisely how father built his vast fortune.

He was a real estate magnate in Uganda with properties in every country on the globe. He was Ugandan based because of strict extradition laws and a government that, at the time, would turn a blind eye to irregularities after a bit of palm greasing was performed.

We would get envelopes stuffed with cash and delightful notes that would read, for example:

"Please kind sir, our roof leaks and the vermin have taken our last child, please do something"

"It's people like you that make the world a smaller and darker place, a one room cardboard shack isn't a place to raise a family much less a place that should cost 5k USD a week. Bastard"

Oh how we would laugh and laugh as we drove our Maserati around and sunned ourselves on the yacht.

there was some punching, a bit of kicking, several shots, i'm pretty sure someone got bit in the face.

all in all it was a good time.

Stay a while and listen.

Back when I just began to play this game, I had the good or ill fortune, depending on where you sit, to find a cesium in the city. This event catapulted me into a realm of mediocrity seldom achieved by people.

On the other side of the coin, the radioactive material also started to eat away at my very neurons in my CNS. I developed transient episodes of neuropathic pain, as well as transient episodes of lucidity.

At times my vision would leave me entirely leaving me to wander through solitude or I would become diplopic and be forced to endure twice the horrors this city has on offer.

I have lost seven of my teeth that my maxillofacial surgeon says is from the constant use of smoked amphetamines, but I know it's truly due to the radioactive material seeping into my very being.

My best advice to you is this:

23 skidoo

Several years ago I was lounging in the study, surrounded by leather-bound books and my maple pipe collection that I had inherited from my grandfather, Sir Winstaford Jameson Taylor III.

It was about this time that I heard a llight rapping at the study door. I rose from my leather sitting chair, crossed the room past my leather reading chair and opened the door.

It was The Colonel.

CMVW had arrived and brought news of the common. It appeared at first that they were planning on unionizing the mine and were set to approach the property with demands of something or another.

Turns out The Colonel merely wanted to sneak behind me and jump into the sitting chair whilst I was distracted by his false report.

Tricky old bugger.

I have it on good authority that the glitter bomb mechanic is to tag anyone who goes to the strip club behind their significant other's back.

The name Glitter Bomb was settled on as the initial name of Stripper Herpes was seen to be too risqué, or at least that's what was said behind closed doors. The actual reason was that it hit too close to home for Ched as he has taken a side hustle as a dancer, a dancer for money, he will do whatever you want him to do.

Having been a voracious reader all of my life, I am reluctant to admit it, but I suck at actually reading.

It all harkens back to the year of my birth and an ill timed fox hunt. You see, whilst father was out with the hounds partaking in sport, mother was being tended to by the handmaidens.

Being of low birth and uneducated, one of them neglected to use proper aseptic technique during my delivery and as fate would have it I came down with a streptococcal infection in my middle ear. This event left me will an ill mood and severe temperament which led to social problems in primary school.

Due to the social issues and the frequent tussles that I was privy to, I began reading books, at first to keep myself from fighting but then to see if I could actually decipher the words therein.

I could not.

I would continue through life picking up books, reading every word from cover to cover and never understand a damn word of it. I still have this defect to this day. It is woeful to say the least.