Canoerebel
Posts: 9038
Joined: 12/14/2002
From: Northwestern Georgia, USA
Status: offline
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Here's what would happen if my car broke down in a distant jurisdiction and one of any number of you kind gents came to my aid:
Nemo: He would be nicely dressed in slacks and a sweater. His courtesy would be marked. He would open the car door, attend to my comfort, offer a warming adult beverage, and then start a debate about Soviet third-column doctrine against northern NATO countries.
JohnIII: He would be casually dressed. His courtesy would be marked. He would give me a gift copy of Shattered Sword and be torn between getting into an in-depth, 27-hour discussion of Japanese naval tactics, persuading me to mod my family to feature a Fourth Circle that would include 27 advanced cruisers armed with laser-guided sea-to-air missiles, or discussing who is prettier: Madeleine Carroll, Ingrid Bergman or Julie Christie. We would end up doing all three (I mean discussing all three things, not "doing" those three ladies).
Miller: He would be casually dressed. He would take me to the nearest pub, where we would raise far too many frothy-beer toasts to fellow AE players and various British soccer stars. I would mention Lady Gaga. Paul would react by getting red in the face. He would then vent about all that is wrong with that piece of human debris. We would start a hot-seat game of AE - Scenario Two, two day turns. We would get in 497 turns in three days. We would then be involuntarily committed to a local hospital for rest and intravenous feeding.
Cribtop: He would be nicely dressed. He would take me to one of Austin's great grills, where we would enjoy sandwiches, cold beer, and a marathon discussion about AE strategy, the American Civil War, American politics, and football. Eventually, it would become clear that football was the center of the universe. When he is eventually elected governor of Texas, he will ask me whether by executive decree he should reconstitute the old Southwest Conference.
Chickenboy: He would either be dressed in a parka and mucklucks or be wearing a beer-stained floral shirt that he hasn't taken off since his last trip to (a) the Phillipinnes; (b) Indonesia; (c) Thailand; or (d) Samoa. We would go ice fishing. He would eventually begin to spill his deepest dreams and desires: how the South is replete with men of honor and women of most excellent looks; how southern football kicks a@@; and how he wishes he could live in a canoe tied to a tree in the Okefenokee Swamp on warm evenings in April when there are Avogadro's Number of mosquitoes per cubic yard.
GreyJoy: He would be wearing a colorful Tyrolian tunic tucked into plaid liederhosen. A jaunty feathered cap would sit rakishly askey atop his head. He would drive the wrong way down a one-way street, get stopped by a cross police officer who, on finding out it was GJ, would smile, slap him on the back, and offer to give him a police escort to whatever restaurant he wanted to go. We would visit a formal garden where GJ would get misty eyed in describing the majesty of "the native and natural bushes of his homeland." By the time I got home, I would have forgotten how to speak English, instead picking up this weird language of polyglot words that make no sense to anyone but GJ and me.
NYGiants: He would be nicely dressed in jeans and cotton shirt. He would have preplanned the route from my broken-down vehicle to his house, including every turn by second, ounces of gasoline consumed, torque required to most expeditiously turn his stearing wheel, and number of tanker trucks that Exxon needs in order to transport enough fuel to Eastern Tennessee to handle demand over the next day, fortnight, month, year, and decade. He would contact the president of Exxon to make sure he has a good plan to handle maintenance of his tanker fleet and is prepared to purchase new trucks to replace old ones. When we were finally done with this excercise, we would retire to his den and watch a New York Giants game while Michael assured me that he is actually a southerner now.
Bullwinkle: He would be dressed in slacks and a shortsleeve shirt even though it was 20 degrees with blowing snow. He would have fuzzy dice hanging from his rearview mirror. He would be quietly concerned about taking me to his house, knowing that he has a real babe there and that babes are naturally attracted to svelte, supple, winsome southerners whose tanned visages are moistened by a hint of perspiration when engaged in strenuous physical activity or deep thought. He would refuse to watch football, but would engage in the most fascinating discussions of philosphy, religion, and the merits of steam-powered submarines during the Gulf of Tonkin crisis.
< Message edited by Canoerebel -- 11/23/2011 8:29:24 PM >
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Happy Thanksgiving, gents! - 
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