Q. What do you say to an orangutan?

<Dom> yet another friendly, informed, well-worded post by you in the <Kurtz> forum.

I bet you 1,0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000- 000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000- 00000000000000000000000 pounds he totally ignores you.

I don't know why you keep trying with him.

He has <zero class>.

Zero.

I want 25 cents anytime anyone else infringes on my copyright.

I still have to come up with the 75 million American funds I owe <Chess Classics>

*The God Lugh. Pronounced 'Loo'. Old Celtic god of something or other. Has many festivals such as Lunasa (Lunacy?) at which singing, dancing, flyting, slighting and small explosions are traditional.

Under his modern name Lugh O'Riada (or 'Loo Read') he wrote the famous verse 'Smaic' (translated into English as 'Heroin') with its classic line "Agus na Seamusin-Seamusin sa bhaile seo" ('and all the Jim-Jims in this town').

As the Dude put it in Big Lebowski:
- You're a, a ... a 'Brother Shamus'? An Irish monk?

"Makes 'Plan Nine From Outer Space' look like it had a plan. Makes one feel a surge of retrospective affection for 'The Brother From Another Planet'. Look out, Buffy, there's a Churchill comin' on the River." -- The Critics.

This totally unknown Z-movie hits most of the charity shop buttons, but it also weirdly anticipates Buffy by about 50 years. The scene where the undead Churchill eats Goering's sweetbreads while chatting up Baker/Midler with exquisite witticisms that don't quite work... is a classic.

Midler/Baker: Be my Baby, Winnie.

Churchill: "Madam, if I was your baby I should urinate on your butler."

Midler/Baker: As long as you're paying, sweetums.

Churchill: "Madam, if I paid I should expect to be reimbursed by the Americans."

Midler/Baker (who is *also* a soviet spy): Golly, Uncle Joe will be happy!

All right, I admit it. You *almost* had me. I was *that* close to googling 'We Shall Bite Them On Them The Breeches'. 'This is something I simply must see' I thought. 'Churchill, vampires, Divine... oh right, Danny Baker. I get it now.'

<Mack>: avoid such narrowly averted gaffes by NEVER <googling>.

Now you can be your OWN google in the comfort and privacy of somebody else's home! Just buy this special chip (all natural, no silicon, no animal fats were harmed during manufacture) at just $199.99, with FREE innovative air packaging. Hammer it into your cerebellum and become a cyberperson, and do your googling in your head.

Example:

You: I wonder who Josephine Baker is...

You [scratches head, activating chip]

You: Must be Danny Baker's sister. I guess. Anything on the box?

Princess Margaret [*lighting a passing fag*]:

- So, what do you little people do for FUN around here? You, flunkey! -- tell the Old Boy that I'm here, He'll want to see me. Haven't read His book, of course -- reading is frightfully common, and one simply can't bear to be read at. Sermons are even worse. But tell Him my sister is his Man in England, vicar on earth, defender of the faith, all that stuff. Should count for something, unless heaven is run by communists. Haw, haw. Wouldn't be surprised, frankly.

Flunkey:

Put the fag out, please. This is a no-smoking gender equality zone now.

Margaret:

Sweet Suffering Chrysanthemums, it's worse than one thought. Heaven is run by communist do-gooder colonials. Get me an ashtray or I'll use your bloody head.

[deep voice off]:

- Splendid, splendid. She'll fit in wonderfully. But who's going to explain that this isn't actually, well, heaven...?

Margaret:

One heard that. It's quite all right. Having suffered through The Changing of the Horse Guards' Ideological Outlook, limbo and purgatory hold no terrors...

[deep voice]:

- Afraid we're talking a little more, well, punitive than that, Meggers. Hence the rules -- no smoking, no faggery, no civil list, no tiaras.

Margaret [*delighted*]:

Why, this is Hell! Nor am I out of it! Well, we'll soon fix that ... a treble vodka, chop chop, and have that Oscar Wilde sent to my palace. One was *so* concerned about the lack of company in, you know, the Good Place...

[deep-voiced Lucifer, for it is He]:

- Glad to see you taking it well, old thing. Afraid Oscar's gone topside -- wormed his way in with a death-bed conversion. Will Swinburne do?

No, I wasn't. But I had lunch with one of 'em and interviewed another and did my best to steal anything that wasn't nailed down.

I could give you 4 paperback sci-fi novels, half a pack of cigarettes, and a used Dylan CD now. Plus 17 euros.

And the rest some other time. Mind you, the vig alone contains more atoms than the universe, but we'll jump that black hole when we get sucked into it.

Forever yours (literally)...

I think they bespeak a disinterested, honest, astute, and passionate love for <chess qua chess>, which is what it's all about, at the end of the day.

By "it" I mean nothing less than life itself.

Oops what a giveaway!!

LOL your <Margaret> idea is hilarious.

The <poor Royals>. Such perennially easy targets since the moment they all suddenly turned <German>, a fact not lost on <Monty Python>.

Heh. "Windsor" indeed.

Oh that reminds me, <Bruce Pandolfini> is in the habit of referring to <space> on the chessboard as <lebensraum>.

Not sure what that means, exactly (I know what the word means, of course)

He also refers to a misplaced Knight as an "errant steed."

I have to say I love <Pandolfini's> language and the sound of his voice on my <chessmaster tutorial>.

Plus, he patiently takes us through the first four moves of virtually every opening under the sun, including the <Orangutan>, of all things. And he explains, in detail, the "logic" of each of the moves in the openings, which is IMO more important than just learning and memorzing the dam openings.

I'm a big <Pandolfini fan>, and I have to say that for a mere 20 bucks the <Chessmaster> would be well worth the money even if it didn't include a chess engine.

Gee whiz, old buddy, if in your place I'd plant my billet-doux, I'd hear very soon from You Know Who: <Something wrong with my place?>

Jess was the one with the typographical cutesy. She mea-culpaed me and I gave her a penance of three Aves.

I'm glad I dropped by. I hope you drop by my place. As often as not, I skid off the bottom edge of the chessforums display page. That's 'cause I hadn't grabbed at the detritus floating past.

(I used to do everything fast. That was my ex-wife's biggest complaint.)

But now, Dom, there's no question my processes are slowing down. I began this post yesterday and didn't finish it until tomorrow. See what I mean?

Sometimes I find myself writing a response to a post that has long since vanished into the mists of time. Centuries pass. And nobody knows what I'm on about. Nothing new there, then.

It's getting harder to tell truth from fiction, spoof from actuality, satire from sincerity. Everywhere. In general. I've just listened to a radio show -- part of my nighttime day job -- featuring one of those quasi-godly 'reflections' or 'thought for the day'. Radio stations use 'em to break up the music, increasing their words quotient so they can snag a coveted talk radio license.

This one had an old-style Irish nun voice (distinctively didactic sincere speech pattern, once heard never forgotten) talking about her visit to "The Milk Grotto in Israel", a Holy Cave where Virgin Mary suckled Baby Jesus, "just before the flight into Egypt". (Is this for real? Apparently.)

So naturally I had to write my own version of the episode:

<- Mary, move it, we're boarding, did you pack the Kid and the kidfood?

- Relax, Joe... they won't let us take liquids past security, didya know that? So I'll just pop into this handy cave here -- caves in airports, what do they think this is, Vegas? -- and feed the lad au naturel. Won't be long...

- OK honey, but if we miss the plane we're gonna havta buy another box of diapers, and the budget won't go far... tit for tat, you know. And watch those Cultural Sensitivities with that breastfeeding thing, willya? We're not in Greenwich Village here, and some of these local believers are like something out of the christian dark ages... Oy, who but my dear wife could transgress the tenets of three major religions with a single act of deshabille...

- Oh, Joseph, you're a Saint. But you can be a real caveman too...>

You are a very inspired and remarkably remarkable young lady, young lady.

However, the "lag time" in posting is more likely the actual explanation.

Funny how the posts appear in one order and then the next time you log in they are in a different order!!

Holy <flotation bladder> batman!!

but now, having returned (much like Douglas McArthur), I notice that my post is now directly under your <fish> post.

You could look on the bright side. A life sentence is likely to be much shorter than the national average. You're most unlikely to serve 80 years, for example. Why, you'd be out of there so fast it'd be like cheating justice...

"Now <Kyle,> murder is never an answer."

Of course, on the other hand:

<Danny DeVito> on <Saturday Night Live>:

"Well little girl, sometimes even <Santa Claus> gotta get whacked."