You are all very good. But you are as grasshoppers in a hay wayn, for you will see that my style is still the best.
<attacks all fighters with:>
Bad translations in late 80’s Nintendo Games!
Deftly maneuvering around the rhombitruncated dodecahedron shaped arena, Lexicon presses his attack on his reeling oponents with
Jesus Christ playing lawn darts with Steven Segal at a Bee-Gees revival concert!
Pride goeth before the fall…
Directions matter not to a real man, who would never deem to consult any sort of instruction manual. Dear child, so much to learn.
As for Jesus, he once agian finds himself splayed and pinned, those damn lawn darts are pointy little buggers! [sub]Incoming![/sub]
Now, turn your attention to MTv music marathon (with actual music) coupled with a scathing scuff mark on the kitchen floor.
[Busta whispers like the evening breeze, in a tranquil mesmerizing tone]
In Rochamboku, the Art of War requires grace with brute force, skill with execution, cunning with desire. The imbalance of yin with yang results in 'N Synch when one truly desires The Beatles.
As I hover above the ground, in the lotus position, humming to the beat of Hey Jude, I gather all my mental engergy to summon an AT&T Telemarketer from the 8th Plane of Hell to put the kabosh on your MTv music marathon (with actual music) coupled with a scathing scuff mark on the kitchen floor!! And before I am drained from my effort, I encircle the beast of endless “free” offers with the Sigil of Caller ID. Now, all your maneuvers will be known by me before you even make them! Boo yeah!
[Busta levitates even higher out of sight as "Bad To The Bone" fills the arena]
Truly, the sigil of caller ID will be hard to counter. Fortunately, I can use Zombie of a Security Guy in a Red Shirt from the Original Star Trek to counter. Caller ID is useless against ST hailing freqs. Ha ha ha!
Now, feel the wrath of Two Blindfolded Dental Hygenists Trying to Make a Circle on an Etch-A-Sketch!
The Two Blindfolded Dental Hygenists Trying to Make a Circle on an Etch-A-Sketch! are going to be busy for awhile so I see them as no threat. Meanwhile, you can figure out how you’re going to deal with ** A Bag of Burt Popcorn!** The smell fills the whole arena…thankfully I brought a gas-mask.
Who’s Burt Popcorn and why’s he in that bag? 
Two Blindfolded Dental Hygenists Trying to Make a Circle on an Etch-A-Sketch! are easy game for… <key music>
bow wow chicka chicka bow wow
Cheesy porn plot. Yes, the cheesy porn plot involving blindfolded hygenists, lacking only a dental equipment repairman…
Indefatigable, I give you the itch you just can’t seem to scratch.
Burt Popcorn is the personification of the smell of Burnt Popcorn!
Yeah…the personification…that’s the ticket.:rolleyes:
Oh, maybe I’ll get one of those ** cheesy porn-starts** to come scratch that itch I just can’t seem to scratch. Or maybe I’ll get 3 of them!
Now you must deal with ** a stuck E key and a left-handed mouse!**
A stuck E key and a left-handed mouse are easily turned aside with a quick mash of the keyboard and a touchpad. [sub] this is the 21st century, after all[/sub]
This one, tried and true, has sunk many a stout competitor: the spit-take on your computer.
spit-take on my computer is easily turned aside with Doc Marten’s Wonderbalm.
How are you going to cope with ** three rabid dogs caught in a post-coital clusterfuck?**
Three rabid dogs caught in a post-coital clusterfuck would be an impossible challenge if not for the sixteen months I spent in the Australian Outback learning the secret ways of the Aborigines. Over a blazing bonfire, to the mystical humming of the bullroarer, the ancient wise men taught me the sign I now throw: Steve Irwin, The Crocodile Hunter!!!
He’ll round up those horny, frothing canines in no time.
To retaliate, I shall call upon the secrets I learned while exploring the ancient Pyramid of the Moon at Teotehuacan and depress you to death with The Complete “Dead Can Dance” Catalogue on CD!!!
Lexicon barely manages to counter The Complete “Dead Can Dance” Catalogue on CD!!! with Live recording of a Riverdance half-time show.
Now cower and flee as I give you a nasty case of bitch tits!
A nasty case of bitch tits, A.K.A. the Gynecomastia Gambit, is expressly forbidden in traditional Rochamboka arenas. However, the Eleven Hidden Lamas of the Plateau of Leng (who are masters of the cheap shot) tried to use this on me back in '87. Therefore I am forewarned and forarmed to respond in kind with The Wendy’s “Where’s the Beef?” Lady!
She continues to say that until the bitch tits are so embarassed they run crying from the room.
I then assume the five-toed sloth position as I deliver a devastating attack: Catherine Zeta-Jones having Michael Douglas’ Baby!!!
Shudder before the two-generation gap in their ages! Cower before the graying alpha male as he takes away your beautiful young females!
Nice parry of the Gynecomastia Gambit, Scupper and masterful play of the The Wendy’s “Where’s the Beef?” Lady, albeit a bit of a blunt implement. I would have preferred countering with a simpler 6th-Grade Training Bra, but still effective nonetheless.
As for your jab with Catherine Zeta-Jones having Michael Douglas’ Baby, you have caused me to descend from my Temple of Solitude and have interrupted my siesta (much deserved after a night of clubbing) to neutralize your bold attack!! I feared it would come down to this, mano-a-mano, cheek-to-cheek, rolling tumbleweeds, papers twisting in the air, and the eerie refrain from a typical Clint Eastwood spaghetti western echoing in the background (wawahwawahh, wah wah wah…). So, as I sneer into your eyes, I throw you…The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly!! Take your fill of tooth-decayed grins, permanent 5:00 shadows, and more bad dialog than a Spice Girls movie!!
*reeling from the surprising resourcefullness of his opponents attack with *The Wendy’s “Where’s the Beef?” Lady, Lexicon takes a severe beating and only barely manages to remain conscious using ridiculously large 70’s style headphones.
I have underestimated you. Still, you are the student and I am the master.
*with a deep breath and a gutteral “Ohhhh-you-ken!” Lexicon installs Microsoft Windows 98 Second Edition on his stunned opponent, who immediately suffers
A Fatal Exception OE has occurred 0028:bff88112
When will you learn that evil (that’s me) will always triump over good (that’s you) because evil is cool and good is dumb?
The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly, eh? It seems you’ve forgotten the counter-offensive to every Clint Eastwood spaghetti western: A Bronco Billy/City Heat/Every Which Way But Loose Marathon!
And now, Busta, it appears that I must deal with you as I once dealt with the Haitian Voodoo Houngan who threw a harsh Eastwood at me at the Rochamboka World Semifinals in Sri Lanka in '95 (he threw Any Which Way You Can, in case you’re wondering.)
Prepare yourself for the soul-flaying annihilation wrought by K.I.T.T. … IN SUPER PURSUIT MODE!!!
Fight paper with bigger paper, huh? You are unpredictable, like a girlfriend asking if she is fat while combing her hair. No matter, the Pontiac Test Drive (aka K.I.T.T. … IN SUPER PURSUIT MODE) is crushed by Rushhour Gridlock on a Friday Evening before Labor-Day Weekend!! Let’s see you get out of that!
And to put to rest any delusions of victory in your heads, I place my palms together in front of me, and with great concentration, project the Mother of all psychic blasts to the tune of…Groove Is In the Heart by Deee-lite. Hear me now, believe me later!
Announcer: This portion of the Ultimate Rochambo Challenge is brought to you by… Felchmeister, the King’s Youngest Nephew’s Roommate’s Ex-Sister-in-Law of Beers!
Paul: Welcome back, everyone, it’s been an exciting day here in the arena, and I have a feeling we’re just getting started. I predict this could go to, what, eighteen, nineteen pages.
Stan: Maybe more, Paul, this thread looks unstoppable!
Paul: We should be returning to play here any moment now, buuut it looks as though there’s some sort of delay, though I’m not sure –
Stan: There seems to be some sort of commotion courtside…
Paul: It appears that Drewbert is having some sort of argument with the ref.
Stan: I didn’t know there was a ref in Ultimate Rochambo.
Paul: There isn’t except in this post. A minor detail considering the nature of this thread.
Stan: True.
Paul: Can we get a camera in there? … Great. It looks like Drewbert has just been handed an official Ultimate Rochambo Rule Book.
Stan: Now for the folks at home, we should point out that the term “rule book” is something of a misnomer. In fact, the entire sum of the rules is so small, they actually fit on a convenient bi-fold pamphlet, with lots of large colorful illustrations.
Paul: Can we get a tighter shot on the rule the ref is pointing to?
Stan: Oh, my -
Paul: Oh, now he should know better than that! Drewbert apparently seriously believed the rules allowed him to summon Cecil Adams! Unbelievable! The crowd can see it now on the Jumbo-tron, and they don’t like it!
Stan: That’s a rookie mistake, Paul. He just can’t do that, it’s like… it’s like… oh, I don’t know…
Paul: Quick analogies were never your strong suit, are they Stan?
Stan: Well… ah…
Paul: That’s why they pay him the big bucks to do the color commentary, folks!
Stan: Aaaanyway. You hafta wonder where Drewbert got this preposterous idea, though I did notice him in a heated discussion with his staff while the pinworms were at center court. It does make some sort of comsic sense in that case, to have Cecil Adams defeat the little buggers, but you have to think of the ramifications. Remember, nobody is in this game to actually win once and for all - at least not this early into the thread. And if you even presume to suggest that Uncle Cece can in fact be beaten, well… it’s like…
Paul: Yeah?
Stan: Um… well it’s like suggesting the Commissioner of Baseball’s mother wears combat boots?
Paul: You’re just not cut out for this job, are you?
Stan: Hi Mom!
Paul: Now the ref can go two ways here. He could just rule that Drewbert forfeit a turn…
Stan: That’d be too easy.
Paul: Or, there is, of course… the Ultimate Embarrassment… The ref is about to announce the penalty, let’s take a listen:
Ref:* Summoning Cecil Adams… Automatic penalty… Fighter must yield nothing at all.*
Paul: Unarmed! Oh, the indignity!
Stan: Now, there is a rarely-used clause in the rule book that says that wielding nothing at all may not be semantically altered to make the opponent disappear. He’s really going to have to go out there with nothing to defend himself. The Ultimate Embarrassment indeed.
Paul: Drewbert walks onto the court… to face Deee-Lite!
Stan: Now I talked with Drewbert last week, and I found out he kindof used to like that song, but would be too embarrased to actually admit it in public. What’s the worse embarrassment, standing up to it or falling to it unarmed?
Paul: He’s down! He falls over and plays dead just like Colin Mochrie does when asked to rhyme!
Stan:: Looks like someone else will have to defeat Groove is in the Heart.
Paul: They’re carrying him off the court now, but I predict he’ll be back soon. Wasn’t a serious injury… And we have to take a time out now for these important messages…
Busta Rib, Groove Is In the Heart by Deee-lite is soundly defeated by Bust A Move by Young MC.
A Rushhour Gridlock on a Friday Evening before Labor-Day Weekend!! can quickly turn into that Music Video for the REM song Everybody Hurt. So beat that!! HA