Screen Names
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Code Talker
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Kanon Fodder
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Actually, it's a Heuschrecke WaffentragerOriginally posted by tracer
I think its an SU-76i
I see this was already addressed in another thread - sorry for duplication
my screen name
hello all,due to the simalarities between mine and golblin at his request i will clarify where i got mine from.It all started back when magic the gathering first came out,its a card game played with fantasy style monsters and spells.Anyway there is a type of monster in the game-a goblin actualy there are several hundred different types of them they all are weak cards and most power magic players dont ever use them.So i did,just because they were the underdogs.And i managed to win some local tournaments with them.Someone once yelled at me"you and your **** gyblin decks"hence the name stuck.there you have it.:rolleyes:
Mogami
Greetings, In 1978 I went to Rochester NY to vist a friend from the Marine Corps. It snowed the night I arrived (by motorcycle)
So I ended up staying longer then planned. We both decided to re-enlist but I failed my physical (I had broken my ankle the summer before and still had a screw holding it together. I had it removed and was able to re-enlist but not till 1981)
So after he left I found a little place on my own. I worked for one of those Labor Pools (you get paid same day you work)
I only needed to work 2-3 times a week to pay my rent and beer. One day I found a little shop that sold comics and board war games (and that D&D stuff). I also met the hardcore wargamers one of whom ran the shop and lived in the back.
We started a game of "War in Europe" and I spent so much time there I just moved in.
The other person who tended the store was a big Navy fan
(he loved the British and Commonwealth Navies)
Eventully a group of 6 wargamers rented a large house and moved in together. I was always the Japanese in the minature battles or "War in the Pacific" (monster board game by SPI)
He had a cat named "Perth" so I named mine Mogami. (I always had Mogami and Kitikami in my TF's)
Mogami was my all time favorite cat. Black with a white patch on his neck he had no meow and only a stub for a tail. He followed me around like a dog and won most of the fights he got into (he fought over the drop of a hat)
(I posted several stories on Matrix forms based on Mogami the invisable chess playing beer drinking cat-nameless in stories)
Mogami died from cat Luekima (caught while in cat quarintine)
When I first went on line and needed a screen name I picked Mogami. It has remained my screen name since then (with varius attachments _99/69BSA/.
I miss that cat
So I ended up staying longer then planned. We both decided to re-enlist but I failed my physical (I had broken my ankle the summer before and still had a screw holding it together. I had it removed and was able to re-enlist but not till 1981)
So after he left I found a little place on my own. I worked for one of those Labor Pools (you get paid same day you work)
I only needed to work 2-3 times a week to pay my rent and beer. One day I found a little shop that sold comics and board war games (and that D&D stuff). I also met the hardcore wargamers one of whom ran the shop and lived in the back.
We started a game of "War in Europe" and I spent so much time there I just moved in.
The other person who tended the store was a big Navy fan
(he loved the British and Commonwealth Navies)
Eventully a group of 6 wargamers rented a large house and moved in together. I was always the Japanese in the minature battles or "War in the Pacific" (monster board game by SPI)
He had a cat named "Perth" so I named mine Mogami. (I always had Mogami and Kitikami in my TF's)
Mogami was my all time favorite cat. Black with a white patch on his neck he had no meow and only a stub for a tail. He followed me around like a dog and won most of the fights he got into (he fought over the drop of a hat)
(I posted several stories on Matrix forms based on Mogami the invisable chess playing beer drinking cat-nameless in stories)
Mogami died from cat Luekima (caught while in cat quarintine)
When I first went on line and needed a screen name I picked Mogami. It has remained my screen name since then (with varius attachments _99/69BSA/.
I miss that cat
I'm not retreating, I'm attacking in a different direction!
2 cat stories
Hi, I hope I don't bore people by posting these again. They were hidden up in Art of War and might have been missed.
That **** Cat
Not once in over 100 games did that cat ever beat me at chess? (I was a little drunk during the draws) and that cat used to show up at the 'Stein Club' around 0130 and try to take advantage of me. He then would follow me home and try to steal my beer. He had no tail and no meow, (He was a cat mime) was all black (except for a white patch on his neck and one white front paw) No one else ever saw him. He used to climb on top of me when I was sleeping and make strange noises (he used a ball of tin foil) till I woke up and then he would just stare at me like I was supposed to read his mind. I could never get him to stop playing the 'Grob' against me when he had the white pieces. Over and Over and Over the same moves. I of course pulled out no stops when I had the white pieces. He was good at the French defense, but was a pussy if I used the Sicilian Dragon (another opening where he made the same moves repeatedly) Finally when he figured out he could not win with skill he started developing annoying habits during a game. He would reach out as if he was going to move a piece but then pull his paw back and stare at me. Stick the paw out and pull it back and stare at me. Like watching paint dry. During my move he would commence licking body parts one should refrain from licking while engaged in a game of chess and then of course he would stare at me some more only now he would have a smile. Scratching the table, have I mentioned scratching the table? Do you know how annoying your opponent suddenly going into a scratching frenzy just when you are contemplating a queen sac is? Drooling, Drooling should be in the rules as a violation of the game. Wet pieces are not fun to play with (not to mention how hard it is to keep notation on a soggy notepad) In hopeless positions he would just sit there...refusing to resign and refusing to move I think he felt losing on time was better then admitting defeat. (he always pretended to be suprised when his flag fell and acted like the clock had saved me from his next move that would have reversed everything and revealed his true chess genius (but if I pretended to fall alseep I could sometimes trick him into moving-he wanted to have me stay asleep and lose on time the dirty sneak) Well to put an end to this story one night about 0130 I was deep into several pitchers of beer playing several differnet games of chess at once (for beer of course) and I did not see when he came in and when I reached his board for my move he hid under the table I moved and went on to next board. Every time I came back he had moved a piece (he did not play the 'Grob' for this one time. Instead he was going for the Kings Indian Attack) Getting close to closing time I still had never seen who I was playing (the board was a locked up close center with lots of behind the lines reshuffing) I got to the board and he had moved his last move back to the square it had came from, the move I had made was based on this last move so I put my piece back, (I was drunk and in a hurry) after three such times as soon as I made my move he lept out from under the table and stood right in the middle of the board and reared up on jis hind legs (like a lion on a coat of arms) He was over joyed he had just gotten a draw by three fold repition and acted like he just beat Karpov (this was back before Kasparov and Deep Big Blue whatever)
Now that I think about it, I miss that **** cat
One night I was headed for the Stein Club after seeing a Braves game at Fulton County Stadium Bobby Horner had hit three homer's but the Braves had still managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory
Is was hot, July or August and I was slightly on the wobbly side from the effect of the beer. I always had a beer for every run the Braves scored during a game, Thirteen is a lot of beer in two hours (and yes they scored thirteen runs and lost). But traditions not up held soon lose their value as tradition so there I was wobbling my way down Peachtree Street somewhere in the vincity of midnight and morning The Stein Club was closed by the time I found what city it had moved to. So now I was going to find that place I slept at. Phew it was twenty blocks further and I had gotten thirsty again. There he was sitting in the window of the Stein Club. I had not seen hide nor hair of him in over a month. Not since the night I had put an empty pitcher over his head and watched him crash around the bar for five minutes before it came off Why would I do such a thing you might ask? OK I'll tell you why the little rascal had nicked a knight from a neighboring game without me noticing it. And when it was my turn and I did my look see I found suddenly I was in quite the bind and in danger of dropping a piece to a combo I had not seen coming. There he sat with that 'I just licked my you know what and your screwed' smile of his. To say I was annoyed would be to entirely understate my mood. It developed that he had a passed pawn and he sac'd his bogus knight to promote it. **** Cat had miscounted the moves however and he missed the part where he was mated the turn he promoted I was in good sprits and prepared to forgive him the anxious moments he had cost me. That is until the folks at the next table noticed their missing knight and saw it on my table next to me.... After that cleared away I grabbed the pitcher and stuck it over his head before I thought about it. Now understand I had never hit, kicked or abused this cat and only rarely swore out load at him and he expressed quite a bit of indignation at the precedence I had just established. After the offending pitcher was removed he glared at me for a few long moments and then departed in a huff
So I was slightly suprised to find him sitting in the window of the Stein Club at the hour the early morning chill was coming out to say hello. I did not acknowledge him then but simply started for home. He fell in behind me. It is a strange fact but a person can grow used to someone or something even things or people that really get on your nerves after a while. You miss them when their gone even against your will or better judgment. So I found I was rather happy to see him after all. It was several blocks before I looked back and noticed he was limping badly but still keeping up. I stopped and knelt down for a look. He was a wreck. Never a dirty cat he was matted and sooty and for the first time I detected the fact he smelled like a garbage can. He was cut and battered had parts missing from one ear his nose had a slit running for several inches and his right eye was swollen shut. I had never before picked up this cat. He never acted like that was acceptable conduct on my part. He was not a lap or petting cat. It is true he liked to sleep on top of me, but it was not required I pet him. In fact he always waited for me to go to sleep before getting on me. In the winter time I often woke up and there he was under the blanket with his head on the pillow snoring well snoring and purring. While he had no meow he made up for it with snoring and purring. Two beers and he would begin purring uncontrollably for hours. He had no interest in playing with yarn or string or balls except of course his ball. His ball of tin foil that he was never without. It was the size of a golf ball wadded tight and hard. If you threw this ball he would go after it without delay. If I had went to the middle of the Chattahoochi Bridge and thrown it over the side he would have followed after it. If I had thrown it on a railroad track while an express train was passing over it he would have went after it. And there it was in his bleeding mouth. Slightly battered and frayed but no where near as bad as he. So I picked him up just to save myself the guilt of him limping after me He started purring that instant. I stumbled on my foggy way toward home. His breathing sounded like an old set of bag pipes that had not quite finished the last note it would sound before fading into silence forever. I was actually worried he was on the verge of using one of a cats nine lives and I was not certain the amount of them he had left Knowing him as I did I knew whatever had happened to him. He no doubt asked for it. Could have avoided it. But rather choose to suffer it then take an alternate course that required he change his ways. By dawn we were home and I put him on the bed. He went to sleep and I did too. Many hours later I woke up to the load purring and snoring and weight of a cat on my chestI woke him up and we ate. Then I gave him a bath. He submitted tamely and without a fuss and when it was over sat on the mantelpiece and performed that ritual all cats must do of licking every part of their anatomy they can reach. When this was completed he leapt from the mantel to the bed curled up and went to sleep. I had tickets to the ball game. Back then Fulton County Stadium was not like your average ballpark. It was quite common in those days to have a seat where your closest neighbor was further away then Dale Murphy could hit a baseball. Channel 17 was not yet a 'super' station and the Braves were a dozen years from becoming Americas team. cough cough. To give the appearance of attendance Ted Turner his self used to wander around handing out free tickets. They were good seats too right behind home plate, right where the TV cameras would show the world people really did go to ball games in Atlanta. Now I don't like to miss any part of a game. Not a ball not a foul so to avoid this possibly I purchase enough beer to last a while (provided the Braves don't go on a scoring rampage like the prior night when I logged more miles then Marco Polo just fetching beer So around seven o five I was firmly in place in my seat twenty rows up right behind home plate. Six cups of beer arrayed around the chair in easy to reach well thought out locations. A monster box of popcorn and it was 'play ball' time. The game progressed, now the third inning. Phil (Knucksie) Niekro got them out 1-2-3 and I reached for a beer........fur? Someone put fur in my beer. I look down and there's that **** cat. His head is 8 inches inside a 10 inch cup and he is slurping the bottom. Wait my word the cup beside it is already empty. In the time it took for a 1-2-3 inning he had sucked down two full monster ball park (this was the 70's) cups of beer. Admiration and anger competed for control of my emotions. Lucky cat admiration won. I snatched the surviving beer from certain cat slurppdom and everything was fine. (Niekro was pitching great the knuckle ball was floating like the butterfly and the Braves led 2-0) So it was not too difficult to forgive an old friend While I wondered just how he had gotten all the way to Fulton County Stadium the cat picked up his ball of tin foil and hopped up into the seat beside me. There was no one in my row or for several rows (Ted was generous but those lower seats were the few seats that usually had sitters who actually paid to sit in them While everything would have been fine except....What was I saying about Niekros knukleball Oh yes it was Willie Stargell who had said of it "moves like a butterfly with hic ups" The cat now had the hic ups. I ignored it for a spell. Every time I looked over he would look back at me and hic up. He really for once looked sorry. Perhaps it was just embarrassment but. I really was getting a bit beerized and it struck me as slightly funny. Still one does not laugh at ones friends misery. So I moved him to my lap and started to pat him on the back trying to clear his hic ups. They came at an accelerated rate. Then at last they slowed and ceased. The cat looked up. Looked around. And wham over my head he flew and scampered up the aisle and into the dark corridors of deserted Fulton County Stadium. Did I say deserted? I looked up an saw that every one in the seats below me had turned around and was staring at me. The ball players on the field had stopped playing and were all looking up at the giant TV screen. You know the one they show the replay on and sometimes put a camera on a person in the stands. The one everyone watching the game on TV sees. Yes, that one. Then I realized the camera had caught me sitting there with my hand going up and down on my lap. And that strange face I had assumed while trying to help the hic ups depart that **** cat. My ears were still on fire several hours later when I entered my beloved Stein Club.... A place where if the world was ending and a Braves game was being shown on TV (and Ted knew better then to black out a game, one way or another you were going to see the Braves) The Braves would be on TV at the Stein Club. The hoots, the shrieks, the laughing.
24 years have past. I take the by pass around Atlanta now. (I take the by pass around Georgia now) Still I hear the up roar and on still nights my ears will burn and the hooting still echo like the soft little beeps you get during a hearing test only not peep beep or tweet but hoot hoot HOOT But I do miss that **** cat
That **** Cat
Not once in over 100 games did that cat ever beat me at chess? (I was a little drunk during the draws) and that cat used to show up at the 'Stein Club' around 0130 and try to take advantage of me. He then would follow me home and try to steal my beer. He had no tail and no meow, (He was a cat mime) was all black (except for a white patch on his neck and one white front paw) No one else ever saw him. He used to climb on top of me when I was sleeping and make strange noises (he used a ball of tin foil) till I woke up and then he would just stare at me like I was supposed to read his mind. I could never get him to stop playing the 'Grob' against me when he had the white pieces. Over and Over and Over the same moves. I of course pulled out no stops when I had the white pieces. He was good at the French defense, but was a pussy if I used the Sicilian Dragon (another opening where he made the same moves repeatedly) Finally when he figured out he could not win with skill he started developing annoying habits during a game. He would reach out as if he was going to move a piece but then pull his paw back and stare at me. Stick the paw out and pull it back and stare at me. Like watching paint dry. During my move he would commence licking body parts one should refrain from licking while engaged in a game of chess and then of course he would stare at me some more only now he would have a smile. Scratching the table, have I mentioned scratching the table? Do you know how annoying your opponent suddenly going into a scratching frenzy just when you are contemplating a queen sac is? Drooling, Drooling should be in the rules as a violation of the game. Wet pieces are not fun to play with (not to mention how hard it is to keep notation on a soggy notepad) In hopeless positions he would just sit there...refusing to resign and refusing to move I think he felt losing on time was better then admitting defeat. (he always pretended to be suprised when his flag fell and acted like the clock had saved me from his next move that would have reversed everything and revealed his true chess genius (but if I pretended to fall alseep I could sometimes trick him into moving-he wanted to have me stay asleep and lose on time the dirty sneak) Well to put an end to this story one night about 0130 I was deep into several pitchers of beer playing several differnet games of chess at once (for beer of course) and I did not see when he came in and when I reached his board for my move he hid under the table I moved and went on to next board. Every time I came back he had moved a piece (he did not play the 'Grob' for this one time. Instead he was going for the Kings Indian Attack) Getting close to closing time I still had never seen who I was playing (the board was a locked up close center with lots of behind the lines reshuffing) I got to the board and he had moved his last move back to the square it had came from, the move I had made was based on this last move so I put my piece back, (I was drunk and in a hurry) after three such times as soon as I made my move he lept out from under the table and stood right in the middle of the board and reared up on jis hind legs (like a lion on a coat of arms) He was over joyed he had just gotten a draw by three fold repition and acted like he just beat Karpov (this was back before Kasparov and Deep Big Blue whatever)
Now that I think about it, I miss that **** cat
One night I was headed for the Stein Club after seeing a Braves game at Fulton County Stadium Bobby Horner had hit three homer's but the Braves had still managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory
Is was hot, July or August and I was slightly on the wobbly side from the effect of the beer. I always had a beer for every run the Braves scored during a game, Thirteen is a lot of beer in two hours (and yes they scored thirteen runs and lost). But traditions not up held soon lose their value as tradition so there I was wobbling my way down Peachtree Street somewhere in the vincity of midnight and morning The Stein Club was closed by the time I found what city it had moved to. So now I was going to find that place I slept at. Phew it was twenty blocks further and I had gotten thirsty again. There he was sitting in the window of the Stein Club. I had not seen hide nor hair of him in over a month. Not since the night I had put an empty pitcher over his head and watched him crash around the bar for five minutes before it came off Why would I do such a thing you might ask? OK I'll tell you why the little rascal had nicked a knight from a neighboring game without me noticing it. And when it was my turn and I did my look see I found suddenly I was in quite the bind and in danger of dropping a piece to a combo I had not seen coming. There he sat with that 'I just licked my you know what and your screwed' smile of his. To say I was annoyed would be to entirely understate my mood. It developed that he had a passed pawn and he sac'd his bogus knight to promote it. **** Cat had miscounted the moves however and he missed the part where he was mated the turn he promoted I was in good sprits and prepared to forgive him the anxious moments he had cost me. That is until the folks at the next table noticed their missing knight and saw it on my table next to me.... After that cleared away I grabbed the pitcher and stuck it over his head before I thought about it. Now understand I had never hit, kicked or abused this cat and only rarely swore out load at him and he expressed quite a bit of indignation at the precedence I had just established. After the offending pitcher was removed he glared at me for a few long moments and then departed in a huff
So I was slightly suprised to find him sitting in the window of the Stein Club at the hour the early morning chill was coming out to say hello. I did not acknowledge him then but simply started for home. He fell in behind me. It is a strange fact but a person can grow used to someone or something even things or people that really get on your nerves after a while. You miss them when their gone even against your will or better judgment. So I found I was rather happy to see him after all. It was several blocks before I looked back and noticed he was limping badly but still keeping up. I stopped and knelt down for a look. He was a wreck. Never a dirty cat he was matted and sooty and for the first time I detected the fact he smelled like a garbage can. He was cut and battered had parts missing from one ear his nose had a slit running for several inches and his right eye was swollen shut. I had never before picked up this cat. He never acted like that was acceptable conduct on my part. He was not a lap or petting cat. It is true he liked to sleep on top of me, but it was not required I pet him. In fact he always waited for me to go to sleep before getting on me. In the winter time I often woke up and there he was under the blanket with his head on the pillow snoring well snoring and purring. While he had no meow he made up for it with snoring and purring. Two beers and he would begin purring uncontrollably for hours. He had no interest in playing with yarn or string or balls except of course his ball. His ball of tin foil that he was never without. It was the size of a golf ball wadded tight and hard. If you threw this ball he would go after it without delay. If I had went to the middle of the Chattahoochi Bridge and thrown it over the side he would have followed after it. If I had thrown it on a railroad track while an express train was passing over it he would have went after it. And there it was in his bleeding mouth. Slightly battered and frayed but no where near as bad as he. So I picked him up just to save myself the guilt of him limping after me He started purring that instant. I stumbled on my foggy way toward home. His breathing sounded like an old set of bag pipes that had not quite finished the last note it would sound before fading into silence forever. I was actually worried he was on the verge of using one of a cats nine lives and I was not certain the amount of them he had left Knowing him as I did I knew whatever had happened to him. He no doubt asked for it. Could have avoided it. But rather choose to suffer it then take an alternate course that required he change his ways. By dawn we were home and I put him on the bed. He went to sleep and I did too. Many hours later I woke up to the load purring and snoring and weight of a cat on my chestI woke him up and we ate. Then I gave him a bath. He submitted tamely and without a fuss and when it was over sat on the mantelpiece and performed that ritual all cats must do of licking every part of their anatomy they can reach. When this was completed he leapt from the mantel to the bed curled up and went to sleep. I had tickets to the ball game. Back then Fulton County Stadium was not like your average ballpark. It was quite common in those days to have a seat where your closest neighbor was further away then Dale Murphy could hit a baseball. Channel 17 was not yet a 'super' station and the Braves were a dozen years from becoming Americas team. cough cough. To give the appearance of attendance Ted Turner his self used to wander around handing out free tickets. They were good seats too right behind home plate, right where the TV cameras would show the world people really did go to ball games in Atlanta. Now I don't like to miss any part of a game. Not a ball not a foul so to avoid this possibly I purchase enough beer to last a while (provided the Braves don't go on a scoring rampage like the prior night when I logged more miles then Marco Polo just fetching beer So around seven o five I was firmly in place in my seat twenty rows up right behind home plate. Six cups of beer arrayed around the chair in easy to reach well thought out locations. A monster box of popcorn and it was 'play ball' time. The game progressed, now the third inning. Phil (Knucksie) Niekro got them out 1-2-3 and I reached for a beer........fur? Someone put fur in my beer. I look down and there's that **** cat. His head is 8 inches inside a 10 inch cup and he is slurping the bottom. Wait my word the cup beside it is already empty. In the time it took for a 1-2-3 inning he had sucked down two full monster ball park (this was the 70's) cups of beer. Admiration and anger competed for control of my emotions. Lucky cat admiration won. I snatched the surviving beer from certain cat slurppdom and everything was fine. (Niekro was pitching great the knuckle ball was floating like the butterfly and the Braves led 2-0) So it was not too difficult to forgive an old friend While I wondered just how he had gotten all the way to Fulton County Stadium the cat picked up his ball of tin foil and hopped up into the seat beside me. There was no one in my row or for several rows (Ted was generous but those lower seats were the few seats that usually had sitters who actually paid to sit in them While everything would have been fine except....What was I saying about Niekros knukleball Oh yes it was Willie Stargell who had said of it "moves like a butterfly with hic ups" The cat now had the hic ups. I ignored it for a spell. Every time I looked over he would look back at me and hic up. He really for once looked sorry. Perhaps it was just embarrassment but. I really was getting a bit beerized and it struck me as slightly funny. Still one does not laugh at ones friends misery. So I moved him to my lap and started to pat him on the back trying to clear his hic ups. They came at an accelerated rate. Then at last they slowed and ceased. The cat looked up. Looked around. And wham over my head he flew and scampered up the aisle and into the dark corridors of deserted Fulton County Stadium. Did I say deserted? I looked up an saw that every one in the seats below me had turned around and was staring at me. The ball players on the field had stopped playing and were all looking up at the giant TV screen. You know the one they show the replay on and sometimes put a camera on a person in the stands. The one everyone watching the game on TV sees. Yes, that one. Then I realized the camera had caught me sitting there with my hand going up and down on my lap. And that strange face I had assumed while trying to help the hic ups depart that **** cat. My ears were still on fire several hours later when I entered my beloved Stein Club.... A place where if the world was ending and a Braves game was being shown on TV (and Ted knew better then to black out a game, one way or another you were going to see the Braves) The Braves would be on TV at the Stein Club. The hoots, the shrieks, the laughing.
24 years have past. I take the by pass around Atlanta now. (I take the by pass around Georgia now) Still I hear the up roar and on still nights my ears will burn and the hooting still echo like the soft little beeps you get during a hearing test only not peep beep or tweet but hoot hoot HOOT But I do miss that **** cat
I'm not retreating, I'm attacking in a different direction!
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TimeTanker
- Posts: 148
- Joined: Sat Jun 15, 2002 4:13 am
- Location: Chico,CA
- Contact:
For what it's worth
I am new to the forum but not to SP.
Started out a couple of years ago as ZeitTanker.
I got the Zeit which is German for Time from the word zeitgeist. I found that word one day in a world far far away in a distant memory....high school. I was bored and reading a dictionary, backwards. This did not last. But, since I did start at the back one of the first words I found was ZeitGeist; which means the "Defining feel of an Era" or some such mumbledy gook like that.
So as the Internet started coming about I started thinking of something to use as a name for places I had to sign in. And, for SP, Matrix, Leadeaters, etc. I just attached Zeit to Tanker.
But, this time for the new Matrix Forum I got fed up with typing the Z and changed it to TimeTanker.
I had found that it was hard to come up with anything that didn't sound like you lived in a comic book. And, the creative ones like Major Destruction (Hi Stuart:D) were taken.
Started out a couple of years ago as ZeitTanker.
I got the Zeit which is German for Time from the word zeitgeist. I found that word one day in a world far far away in a distant memory....high school. I was bored and reading a dictionary, backwards. This did not last. But, since I did start at the back one of the first words I found was ZeitGeist; which means the "Defining feel of an Era" or some such mumbledy gook like that.
So as the Internet started coming about I started thinking of something to use as a name for places I had to sign in. And, for SP, Matrix, Leadeaters, etc. I just attached Zeit to Tanker.
But, this time for the new Matrix Forum I got fed up with typing the Z and changed it to TimeTanker.
I had found that it was hard to come up with anything that didn't sound like you lived in a comic book. And, the creative ones like Major Destruction (Hi Stuart:D) were taken.
"You can run...but, you will only die tired"
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Ductor Bellator
- Posts: 7
- Joined: Thu Jun 20, 2002 6:37 am
I chose my name mainly because I wanted something that no one else would have. And to give a little insight into my personality. I love bad guys. The Imperials, Communists, Klingons, the madmen in Bond movies, and who is the baddest of all bad guys. The Dark Lord of the Underworld, Hades himself. Plus I want a name with no numbers, for some reason I hate numbers after my name.
"History admires the wise, but it elevates the brave."
-Edmund Morris
[img]http://publish.hometown.aol.com/kenkbar ... tual-b-o-b
-Edmund Morris
[img]http://publish.hometown.aol.com/kenkbar ... tual-b-o-b
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ivantheterrible
- Posts: 78
- Joined: Tue Apr 02, 2002 5:42 am
- Location: Dallas
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Brutto-Bob
- Posts: 172
- Joined: Tue Oct 24, 2000 8:00 am
- Location: Genoa, Liguria, Italy
- Contact:
my nickname...
Ah, well I've found an explanation for my name:
I'm a fan of the South Park Cartoons, and when I choose the nickname I think about this episode:
http://www.geocities.com/Hollywood/Land/4801/bob/
So I choose to be like Ugly-Bob that, in italian, could be translated in Brutto-Bob.
Bye.
I'm a fan of the South Park Cartoons, and when I choose the nickname I think about this episode:
http://www.geocities.com/Hollywood/Land/4801/bob/
So I choose to be like Ugly-Bob that, in italian, could be translated in Brutto-Bob.
Bye.
Cool tread!
Mine goes way back in the early 70's when all my buddies use to do the protest love peace thing a magig. Well a few buddies and I use to get together on weekend and play Afrika Corps I thing that was the one, well stock on beer and other parafinellia we would play till late sunday night. I was always talking about tanks and grabing anything that was related to tanks. Well one of those weekend we had a few guess drop by and wanted to know why we never joined them in there trip. Well one look at the table we were playing on, actually a 4X8 plywood sheet. When one of the guess seen the war game he started to freak out calling us name and other crap war freaks and a lot worse, to many bad calls to put on this forum, anyway he kick our table and the game when flying every where months of playing gone down the gutter. Then all of sudden he hit my friend and knock him out, well by then I was red with rage and this goone was a big guy so I ran towards him with my head down like a ram and hit him right in the private part as he bent over I lifted my upper body real fast and my head smash him under the jaw and broke his jaw and knock him out.
Well after that day everybody nickname me Tankhead because I love tanks and knock that goone out with my head.
Mine goes way back in the early 70's when all my buddies use to do the protest love peace thing a magig. Well a few buddies and I use to get together on weekend and play Afrika Corps I thing that was the one, well stock on beer and other parafinellia we would play till late sunday night. I was always talking about tanks and grabing anything that was related to tanks. Well one of those weekend we had a few guess drop by and wanted to know why we never joined them in there trip. Well one look at the table we were playing on, actually a 4X8 plywood sheet. When one of the guess seen the war game he started to freak out calling us name and other crap war freaks and a lot worse, to many bad calls to put on this forum, anyway he kick our table and the game when flying every where months of playing gone down the gutter. Then all of sudden he hit my friend and knock him out, well by then I was red with rage and this goone was a big guy so I ran towards him with my head down like a ram and hit him right in the private part as he bent over I lifted my upper body real fast and my head smash him under the jaw and broke his jaw and knock him out.
Well after that day everybody nickname me Tankhead because I love tanks and knock that goone out with my head.
Tankhead
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Les_the_Sarge_9_1
- Posts: 3943
- Joined: Fri Dec 29, 2000 10:00 am
I can relate to your post 100% Tankhead.
Yes I am a tad young to be a genuine card carrying hippe, but one of my fav songs is after all "If you go to San Francisco".
But even with all that sort of stuff in my mental makeup, I am still very much attached to the world of the military all the same.
I see people that make foul remarks about us "warmongers", and well, those people on average, are just pitiful, uneducated, morons, barely worthy of the protection so many of us have died to provide.
The only thing providing the freedom those fools like to sing about, is us damnit. No flag burning jerk protestor every did anything useful in securing the peace "they just want to give a chance to".
Forget chances, I sleep better knowing the people that would take my freedom, will have to die trying to take it from me.
During the Gulf war an insane psycho therapy psychiatric lost cause waste of a PHd was on a TV talk show commenting on how "playing wargames" was not really a suitable way of supporting the valiant efforts of the boys in the desert.
How would the dumb bimbo even know. They don't teach military history in psyche 101. They spend their time learning soft fuzzy quasi science.
During the Gulf I watch the news fairly regularly. I KNOW what the guys were enduring. Same things the "guys" endured during the fighting around Tobruk in 40-41-42.
But this lame brain psychiatrist couldn't possible make that leap. They don't teach them anything about the real world in psychiatry.
I don't "play wargames" to "support" anyone. I am not doing it out of emptahic sympathy.
When I have Steel Panthers playing the artillery is on slow function. Why? cause I want to watch my artillery pound the snot out of the other side.
Does that make me some sort of vicious lunatic? Nope.
Only a dangerous lunatic thinks the game is real. No one is dying.
I am recreating an historical event, and amusing myself examinining it. And that's the extent of it. No hidden qualities.
The only lunatics present, are the loonies that generated the actual event, such that I have it as a point of history to study.
And in almost all cases, the person that started to event' had not clue one about the repercussions, because they hadn't studied enough history to know the consequences.
Man if I had been in the room with you Tankhead, those jerks would likely have avoided the area for a long time out of sheer fear.
Yes I am a tad young to be a genuine card carrying hippe, but one of my fav songs is after all "If you go to San Francisco".
But even with all that sort of stuff in my mental makeup, I am still very much attached to the world of the military all the same.
I see people that make foul remarks about us "warmongers", and well, those people on average, are just pitiful, uneducated, morons, barely worthy of the protection so many of us have died to provide.
The only thing providing the freedom those fools like to sing about, is us damnit. No flag burning jerk protestor every did anything useful in securing the peace "they just want to give a chance to".
Forget chances, I sleep better knowing the people that would take my freedom, will have to die trying to take it from me.
During the Gulf war an insane psycho therapy psychiatric lost cause waste of a PHd was on a TV talk show commenting on how "playing wargames" was not really a suitable way of supporting the valiant efforts of the boys in the desert.
How would the dumb bimbo even know. They don't teach military history in psyche 101. They spend their time learning soft fuzzy quasi science.
During the Gulf I watch the news fairly regularly. I KNOW what the guys were enduring. Same things the "guys" endured during the fighting around Tobruk in 40-41-42.
But this lame brain psychiatrist couldn't possible make that leap. They don't teach them anything about the real world in psychiatry.
I don't "play wargames" to "support" anyone. I am not doing it out of emptahic sympathy.
When I have Steel Panthers playing the artillery is on slow function. Why? cause I want to watch my artillery pound the snot out of the other side.
Does that make me some sort of vicious lunatic? Nope.
Only a dangerous lunatic thinks the game is real. No one is dying.
I am recreating an historical event, and amusing myself examinining it. And that's the extent of it. No hidden qualities.
The only lunatics present, are the loonies that generated the actual event, such that I have it as a point of history to study.
And in almost all cases, the person that started to event' had not clue one about the repercussions, because they hadn't studied enough history to know the consequences.
Man if I had been in the room with you Tankhead, those jerks would likely have avoided the area for a long time out of sheer fear.
I LIKE that my life bothers them,
Why should I be the only one bothered by it eh.
Why should I be the only one bothered by it eh.
Hello Les the Sarge 9-1
Well after that day we never had anymore problems with them goons.
As I was writing the post last night and thinking back to those crazy day I had a big smile on my face, those were the days.
I'm sure if you would of been there you would have enjoyed it, thinking back that far brings back good memories.
Well after that day we never had anymore problems with them goons
.As I was writing the post last night and thinking back to those crazy day I had a big smile on my face, those were the days.
I'm sure if you would of been there you would have enjoyed it, thinking back that far brings back good memories.
Tankhead
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Afrika Korps
- Posts: 203
- Joined: Tue Jul 02, 2002 6:05 pm
- Location: Rhode Island
name...
Way back when, I used to play some old sub game on my friends Amiga computer...I played a U-boat and just nailed every ship he had...he said he was Doomed every game, so being of German stock in RL, and taking his cue, I added Von to Doom and got Von Doom (add to that the fact that I LOVE Victor Von Doom and that I love to side with the "bad guys"). So, in every WWII game I ever played, I was Von Doom, playing for the Germans...actually, I usually go by Obersturmbannfuhrer Von Doom....lol! The Obersturmbannfuhrer part came from when I was in the Army, there was this Lt. Col. who was a total, swaggering jackass. So we used to play like Benny Hill German soldiers and I would pretend to be him, shouting orders in bad German and all my buddies would respond "Ja ja, Herr Obersturmbannfuhrer!!!".
BTW, have you heard that I love this game yet?
BTW, have you heard that I love this game yet?
DAK
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Belisarius
- Posts: 3099
- Joined: Sat May 26, 2001 8:00 am
- Location: Gothenburg, Sweden
- Contact:
Re: name...
Ah. I thought you'd taken it from the Marvel Comic world.Originally posted by Von Doom
Way back when, I used to play some old sub game on my friends Amiga computer...I played a U-boat and just nailed every ship he had...he said he was Doomed every game, so being of German stock in RL, and taking his cue, I added Von to Doom and got Von Doom (add to that the fact that I LOVE Victor Von Doom and that I love to side with the "bad guys"). So, in every WWII game I ever played, I was Von Doom, playing for the Germans...actually, I usually go by Obersturmbannfuhrer Von Doom....lol!
BTW, have you heard that I love this game yet?
Victor von Doom, alias Dr. Doom, arch nemesis of..uh... whatshisface.. Mr. Fantastic :p
Got StuG?