Aftermath
Smash Champion
Well, I'm guessing everyone who was planning on going in my car to DAN will drop out, so 2 people from Eugene, who will pay gas ($10-15 each) are welcome.
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Oregon Smash Community [OSC] - Oregon's official Smash Community est. 2005
- Thread starter T0MMY
- Start date
Digital Watches
Smash Ace
I'm not dropping out, if you're counting on me doing so.
Also: Eh. Oh well. Guess I'll have to get a ride to TANG again. On the bright side, this means my teammate can make it.
VenusGospel
Smash Apprentice
Hey digital watches, you should let me carpool with you up to the next TANG, considering you live in portland... Or if you don't have a ride I know how to get to Jesse's house from the 12 bus so that shouldn't be a problem
Doc_Holiday
Smash Ace
YEAH! Venusgospel is going to be there, I want to play you.
VenusGospel
Smash Apprentice
yeah i'll be at next tang, we still got that 1 dollar money match XD
Doc_Holiday
Smash Ace
You play Fox right? I think you should let me choose the stage, all of the times.
Shadow-Worm
Smash Rookie
sure you can pick the stages... 1$ is just for fun, considering i lost a $2 button mashing MM with James for fun, whoops wrong screen name, it's VG
James, I was planning on johning out of the DAN tourney because of the turn-of-events transportation, but it appears there is yet another turn-of-events (see banner below). So I'm going to convince t0mmy to still go and would like to reserve two seats if they're still open.
Doc_Holiday
Smash Ace
I'm going to own Idaho when I go up there. They stond stand a chance against THE ALMIGHTY G-REG!!!! I mean doc-Holiday.
I will as soon as I talk to Justin - the owner of BCG - again. He wanted the tournament to be on a Sunday because it's less crowded. I have a feeling that wouldn't work out for you guys so much, so I'm going to make sure it's sometime on Saturday instead. I think I'll go make the thread though and then just notify anyone of changes there.
Doc_Holiday
Smash Ace
I am the best in Salem.
Aftermath
Smash Champion
I have that Bowser plush thing as well. I got mine from trading pokemon cards.
Beat that Josh.
Beat that Josh.
FoosJr
Smash Ace
^^^^^^^^^^^^
WOW JOSH, thats incredible.
WOW JOSH, thats incredible.
Kami-V
Smash Journeyman
That was hilarious Josh
And hooray for me, I'll be at tang this weekend... which I'm assuming is still going on.
And hooray for me, I'll be at tang this weekend... which I'm assuming is still going on.
I don't think it is.
The following lines are in accordance to SWF laws section 193.6SW
The Taisho ("Great Righteousness") emperor, who succeeded to the throne following Emperor Meiji's death in 1912, was a sickly man, and unable to devote himself to the affairs of state. This situation required changes int he political role of the sovereign. More and more the emperor was isolated from the political scene. And though the leaders of the Taisho government accepted the core concepts of the Meikji kokutai... they made subtle changes in the meanings of these concepts. The Taisho legal interpretation of kokutai gradually came under the influence of Minobe Tatsukichi (1873-1948), professor of constitutional law at Tokyo Imperial University. For Minobe intended to weaken autocratic rule and challenge the legitimacy of nonconstitutional bodies.
Digital Watches
Smash Ace
So now I'm curious as to when TANG is actually happening.
It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast in an effort to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of Victory Mansions, though not quickly enough to prevent a swirl of gritty dust from entering along with him. The hallway smelt of boiled cabbage and old rag mats. At one end of it a coloured poster, too large for indoor display, had been tacked to the wall. It depicted simply an enormous face, more than a metre wide: the face of a man of about forty-five, with a heavy black moustache and ruggedly handsome features. Winston made for the stairs. It was no use trying the lift. Even at the best of times it was seldom working, and at present the electric current was cut off during daylight hours. It was part of the economy drive in preparation for Hate Week. The flat was seven flights up, and Winston, who was thirty-nine and had a varicose ulcer above his right ankle, went slowly, resting several times on the way. On each landing, opposite the lift-shaft, the poster with the enormous face gazed from the wall. It was one of those pictures which are so contrived that the eyes follow you about when you move. BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU, the caption beneath it ran. Inside the flat a fruity voice was reading out a list of figures which had something to do with the production of pig-iron.
It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast in an effort to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of Victory Mansions, though not quickly enough to prevent a swirl of gritty dust from entering along with him. The hallway smelt of boiled cabbage and old rag mats. At one end of it a coloured poster, too large for indoor display, had been tacked to the wall. It depicted simply an enormous face, more than a metre wide: the face of a man of about forty-five, with a heavy black moustache and ruggedly handsome features. Winston made for the stairs. It was no use trying the lift. Even at the best of times it was seldom working, and at present the electric current was cut off during daylight hours. It was part of the economy drive in preparation for Hate Week. The flat was seven flights up, and Winston, who was thirty-nine and had a varicose ulcer above his right ankle, went slowly, resting several times on the way. On each landing, opposite the lift-shaft, the poster with the enormous face gazed from the wall. It was one of those pictures which are so contrived that the eyes follow you about when you move. BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU, the caption beneath it ran. Inside the flat a fruity voice was reading out a list of figures which had something to do with the production of pig-iron.
Aftermath
Smash Champion
TANG is happening at some point in the future.
Pokemon is coming out so soon, Timmy, make a note for people to bring their DSes to SF:E.
Pokemon is coming out so soon, Timmy, make a note for people to bring their DSes to SF:E.
Digital Watches
Smash Ace
Ooh, I want in on the SF:E carpool.
The Deliverator belongs to an elite order, a hallowed subcategory. He's got esprit up to here. Right now, he is preparing to carry out his third mission of the night. His uniform is black as activated charcoal, filtering the very light out of the air. A bullet will bounce off its arachnofiber weave like a wren hitting a patio door, but excess perspiration wafts through it like a breeze through a freshly napalmed forest, Where his body has bony extremities, the suit has sintered armorgel: feels like gritty jello, protects like a stack of telephone books.
When they gave him the job, they gave him a gun. The Deliverator never deals in cash, but someone might come after him anyway -- might want his car, or his cargo. The gun is tiny, acm-styled, lightweight, the kind of gun a fashion designer would carry; it fires teensy darts that fly at five times the velocity of an SR-71 spy plane, and when you get done using it, you have to plug it into the cigarette lighter, because it runs on electricity.
The Deliverator never pulled that gun in anger, or in fear. He pulled it once in Gila Highlands. Some punks in Gila Highlands, a fancy Burbclave, wanted themselves a delivery, and they didn't want to pay for it. Thought they would impress the Deliverator with a baseball bat. The Deliverator took out his gun, centered its laser doohickey on that poised Louisville Slugger, fired it. The recoil was immense, as though the weapon had blown up in his hand. The middle third of the baseball bat turned into a column of burning sawdust accelerating in all directions like a bursting star. Punk ended up holding this bat handle with milky smoke pouring out the end. Stupid look on his face. Didn't get nothing but trouble from the Deliverator.
The Deliverator belongs to an elite order, a hallowed subcategory. He's got esprit up to here. Right now, he is preparing to carry out his third mission of the night. His uniform is black as activated charcoal, filtering the very light out of the air. A bullet will bounce off its arachnofiber weave like a wren hitting a patio door, but excess perspiration wafts through it like a breeze through a freshly napalmed forest, Where his body has bony extremities, the suit has sintered armorgel: feels like gritty jello, protects like a stack of telephone books.
When they gave him the job, they gave him a gun. The Deliverator never deals in cash, but someone might come after him anyway -- might want his car, or his cargo. The gun is tiny, acm-styled, lightweight, the kind of gun a fashion designer would carry; it fires teensy darts that fly at five times the velocity of an SR-71 spy plane, and when you get done using it, you have to plug it into the cigarette lighter, because it runs on electricity.
The Deliverator never pulled that gun in anger, or in fear. He pulled it once in Gila Highlands. Some punks in Gila Highlands, a fancy Burbclave, wanted themselves a delivery, and they didn't want to pay for it. Thought they would impress the Deliverator with a baseball bat. The Deliverator took out his gun, centered its laser doohickey on that poised Louisville Slugger, fired it. The recoil was immense, as though the weapon had blown up in his hand. The middle third of the baseball bat turned into a column of burning sawdust accelerating in all directions like a bursting star. Punk ended up holding this bat handle with milky smoke pouring out the end. Stupid look on his face. Didn't get nothing but trouble from the Deliverator.
Kami-V
Smash Journeyman
So what is going on?! I'm so confused? Yes or no on Tang tommorow
And then marth said, "lol, my just fsmashed you into oblivion". It was then, that Kami, was dead.
And then marth said, "lol, my just fsmashed you into oblivion". It was then, that Kami, was dead.
Digital Watches
Smash Ace
No TANG tomorrow.
Mei Yao-ch`en says: "The subdivisions of the army having been previously fixed, and the various signals agreed upon, the separating and joining, the dispersing and collecting which will take place in the course of a battle, may give the appearance of disorder when no real disorder is possible. Your formation may be without head or tail, your dispositions all topsy-turvy, and yet a rout of your forces quite out of the question."
Mei Yao-ch`en says: "The subdivisions of the army having been previously fixed, and the various signals agreed upon, the separating and joining, the dispersing and collecting which will take place in the course of a battle, may give the appearance of disorder when no real disorder is possible. Your formation may be without head or tail, your dispositions all topsy-turvy, and yet a rout of your forces quite out of the question."
Kami-V
Smash Journeyman
/sad panda face
Digital Watches
Smash Ace
Yeah, sorry 'bout that.
They each had their own room and all. They were both around seventy years old, or even more than that. They got a bang out of things, though--in a half-***** way, of course. I know that sounds mean to say, but I don't mean it mean. I just mean that I used to think about old Spencer quite a lot, and if you thought about him too much, you wondered what the heck he was still living for. I mean he was all stooped over, and he had very terrible posture, and in class, whenever he dropped a piece of chalk at the blackboard, some guy in the first row always had to get up and pick it up and hand it to him. That's awful, in my opinion. But if you thought about him just enough and not too much, you could figure it out that he wasn't doing too bad for himself. For instance, one Sunday when some other guys and I were over there for hot chocolate, he showed us this old beat-up Navajo blanket that he and Mrs. Spencer'd bought off some Indian in Yellowstone Park. You could tell old Spencer'd got a big bang out of buying it. That's what I mean. You take somebody old as hell, like old Spencer, and they can get a big bang out of buying a blanket.
They each had their own room and all. They were both around seventy years old, or even more than that. They got a bang out of things, though--in a half-***** way, of course. I know that sounds mean to say, but I don't mean it mean. I just mean that I used to think about old Spencer quite a lot, and if you thought about him too much, you wondered what the heck he was still living for. I mean he was all stooped over, and he had very terrible posture, and in class, whenever he dropped a piece of chalk at the blackboard, some guy in the first row always had to get up and pick it up and hand it to him. That's awful, in my opinion. But if you thought about him just enough and not too much, you could figure it out that he wasn't doing too bad for himself. For instance, one Sunday when some other guys and I were over there for hot chocolate, he showed us this old beat-up Navajo blanket that he and Mrs. Spencer'd bought off some Indian in Yellowstone Park. You could tell old Spencer'd got a big bang out of buying it. That's what I mean. You take somebody old as hell, like old Spencer, and they can get a big bang out of buying a blanket.
Digital Watches
Smash Ace
Good point, Josh. Also: First one who can name all these books gets lunch at the next tourney on me.
`InfiniDim Enterprises,' Ford snarled to himself as he stalked rapidly down one corridor after another. Door after door magically opened to him without question. Elevators took him happily to places they should not. Ford was trying to pursue the most tangled and complicated route he could, heading generally downwards through the building. His happy little robot took care of everything, spreading waves of acquiescent joy through all the security circuits it encountered.
Ford thought it needed a name and decided to call it Emily Saunders, after a girl he had very fond memories of. Then he thought that Emily Saunders was an absurd name for a security
robot, and decided to call it Colin instead, after Emily's dog.
He was moving deep into the bowels of the building now, into areas he had never entered before, areas of higher and higher security. He was beginning to encounter puzzled looks from the operatives he passed. At this level of security you didn't even call them people anymore. And they were probably doing stuff that only operatives would do. When they went home to their families in the evening they became people again, and when their little children looked up to them with their sweet shining eyes and said `Daddy, what did you do all day today?' they just said, `I performed my duties as an operative,' and left it at that.
`InfiniDim Enterprises,' Ford snarled to himself as he stalked rapidly down one corridor after another. Door after door magically opened to him without question. Elevators took him happily to places they should not. Ford was trying to pursue the most tangled and complicated route he could, heading generally downwards through the building. His happy little robot took care of everything, spreading waves of acquiescent joy through all the security circuits it encountered.
Ford thought it needed a name and decided to call it Emily Saunders, after a girl he had very fond memories of. Then he thought that Emily Saunders was an absurd name for a security
robot, and decided to call it Colin instead, after Emily's dog.
He was moving deep into the bowels of the building now, into areas he had never entered before, areas of higher and higher security. He was beginning to encounter puzzled looks from the operatives he passed. At this level of security you didn't even call them people anymore. And they were probably doing stuff that only operatives would do. When they went home to their families in the evening they became people again, and when their little children looked up to them with their sweet shining eyes and said `Daddy, what did you do all day today?' they just said, `I performed my duties as an operative,' and left it at that.
Aftermath
Smash Champion
So first one to google abstracts from a book wins lunch?
1984
Snow Crash
Sun Tzu on the Art of War
The Catcher in the Rye
Mostly Harmless
Do I win?
1984
Snow Crash
Sun Tzu on the Art of War
The Catcher in the Rye
Mostly Harmless
Do I win?
Rage.
Smash Ace
Oregon has to much time on their hands.
Digital Watches
Smash Ace
brdy_
Smash Lord
Those aren't abstracts they're excerpts. XD
Aftermath
Smash Champion
Why do I always think Bart has gray hair?
Juce
Smash Ace
why isn't there any smash discussion?
Doc_Holiday
Smash Ace
I'm going to buy a new controller.
Aftermath
Smash Champion
WA is ********.
So I'm ****** James right, and this is after I've drugged him up quite a bit so he's hella hyphy and thinks he's like 5 or some ****, which makes it feel way better for me anyway because it's almost like ****** a 5 year old who doesn't really bother to shave, but anyway, I'm DPing his buttocks with both of my *****es right, and he's like "mister mister, what does 'oh what a refreshing **** this is' mean," and I'm like **** in my head(not that I **** in my head or anything, that'd be weird, I'm just like exclaiming **** as interior monologue) because I just KNOW that if I tried to explain the subtext of compulsive swearing as an aide to sexual gratification to him he wouldn't get it, and climaxing while having to listen to his "I don't know what that means" **** is ****ing impossible - I'd know, I've had trouble with that before - so I chop his head off right, and I'm starting to get tired of his smelly ******* so I take my ***** out and stick them in his neck, not like on the side of his neck or anything but straight down the top where his head used to be, pretty much throat ****ing right, and you know how like after insects die their bodies still kinda convulse and stuff due to weird muscle ****, well yeah, basically he was doing that and his body was trying to breathe while my weeners were down his throat so it'd like suffocate them for a second or two and then breathe air into them repeatedly, and you know how like if you blow into a chick's vag too much the oxygen will get into the bloodstream and she'll die, well yeah that happened to me. so I had to use a continue and well here I am.
Doc_Holiday
Smash Ace
Lol, loved the story Josh(if that is your real name)