Messages

[Baron:]

Baron: My hand-powered hobby starts fires, it's true...from slapping the faces of peons like you.

[Miguel:]

Miguel: Your disgusting bristles are fooling no one. That's a glue-on mustache, 'cause you can't grow one.

[Miguel]

Captain, you're lucky -- it's about to get heated. Let me introduce the next batch of the defeated:

Miguel has a thing for Italian women. It's a shame that he looks like Walter Brennan.
He doesn't try to rhyme; he just doesn't have the stuff. For him, complete sentences are tough enough.

Baron is a nobleman in title only. His hobbies are cowardice and being lonely.
Insult scholars will judge my barbs to him canonical. I will drop harsh words to make him pop his monocle.

I think Baron, Stupot+, CaptainD and I should start an anti-insult competition where we just say polite things about each other.

If this were professional wrestling, instead of insult swordfighting, there would be a surprise dark horse entrant who would run in from the back, leap off of the ropes, insult us all into submission, and steal the crown.

I will return the favor and even out the voting! I had a great time in our insult thread as well, though I will admit this opening salvo stung a bit:

Sadly, Eric, I can't diss you games, as you never have made ones

I spent the evening working on my game after hearing that one!

My skills pay the bills...you must be onto me. The bite of my rhymes are about quality, not quantity.
My words are the worst because you are the subject. I'm surprised that you're even allowed out in public.

(More near-rhymes! And we hit PAGE 2!)

I've been basically earning my living by developing, selling, and publishing AGS games for the last seven years!

I saw an announcement on Twitter today that you've convinced another big name in the AGS community to do the same with Wadjet....

Insulting my childhood is the weakest of bee stings: from what I can gather, you peaked as as pre-teen.
And then on for you, it's all been downhill. I kind of feel guilty going in for the kill.

How appropriate that you bring up a story of toys. This round's where we separate the men from the boys.
Your chances of winning against me have flown. You might want to take your little ball and go home.

(SOMEBODY'S POISONED THE WATERHOLE! THAR'S A SNAKE IN MY BOOT!)

Eton? I laugh. Did you think me a Brit? Is it because I'm Oscar Wilde-level wit?
I take it as a compliment, if that gives you solace. But this is your Yorktown, and you are Cornwallis.

My insults make wounds that open and fester. Yours are more like a gnat sent to pester.
If you think you might win, then you're under delusion. That you think otherwise gives me cause for confusion.

(Thank you! I wasn't sure if it was too forced or not. I believe you and I are putting on an insult clinic over here. I wonder if we have any readers?)

Tune into Turner Classic Movies at 6 EST today to find out, Baron!

You insulting me? Something's amiss again. I'll blow up your Death Star like Lando Calrissian.
My wit is as sharp as a lightsaber Ginsu. You should just give up. The Force is against you.

My comebacks are keen, my insults are barbed. If my shirt is red, then I'm Jean-Luc Picard.
You, on the other hand, have inferior vernacular. As a Captain, you should be canceled like Bakula.

(Some near-rhymes for you this time around!)

You don't bother me -- my demeanor is placid. Your delivery's dull and your insults are flaccid.
You're a wastrel, a blockhead, a numbskull, a lout. You might want to call Scotty so he'll beam you out.

(My two-year-old just sat and waved at your avatar on the screen for five minutes as I came up with this, every time yelling, "He disppappeard!")

I've had enough of this thread. I'm LeeVing.

Always take it as teeing up. I always feel guilty answering quickly after taking a turn. But I'm tempted when it's a movie that I love the hell out of, like this one. Or Terror in a Texas Town.

Selmiak -- I just got lucky! My film appreciation students are watching neo-noir films this week, and I just screened Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction to see which I preferred to offer on their list of film choices. I went with Reservoir Dogs (and a bunch more, including, yes, Blade Runner!).

Social pariah? I'm the host with the mostest. I left a party being thrown in my honor to post this.
No invite for you, and that's not accidental. I'd hate to co-mingle with someone so mental.

(Civil indeed! After all, are we not gentlemen?)

I'm still confused over the shortstop and the U.S. Samoa.

Derek Jeter, Yankee shortstop, is #2. The postal code for American Samoa is AS.