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Tyyr wrote:Times that make you glad you told your HOA to go fuck itself.

Yeah, I don't think that place was a co-op.

And here I thought that the only use for my rampart was to keep the Mormons away.

3 smart people that live in a flood plane. Well, as smart as someone can be that bought a house in a flood plane.

Jim wrote:3 smart people that live in a flood plane. Well, as smart as someone can be that bought a house in a flood plane.

If they were a bit smarter, they would have reinfrced their defences with grass mats of covering of some sort. Sand alone doesn't hold very long. These things are awfully thin. Decent ramparts should be several times wider than they are high to properly cushion the impact of the water. I give those guys a week.

Grass? More like pitch pines, beach plums, cordgrass, and sweet gums. Those plants have been holding dunes together and salt marshes in place since the pleistocene epoch.

Any sort of plant-based covering would have done miracles for the integrity, the roots would act as anchors and adding additional mass.

Methinks the lady doth protest too much...

My inspiration for at least one piece of writing.

The backbone of the Imperium of Man, the common Guardsmen....

It's even funnier when I think that someone took the time to build and paint that.

You gotta love the angry marines.

I've looked at it for a full couple of minutes and I still don't have a clue what it's supposed to be about...

GrahamKennedy wrote:I've looked at it for a full couple of minutes and I still don't have a clue what it's supposed to be about...

In WH40k, the Space Marines (the yellow guy) are genetically, surgically, chemically, and psychologically altered humans, created to become superhuman warriors for the Imperium of Man. They are 7 - 9 feet tall, possessed of superhuman strength and constitution, can spit acid, organically interact with their power armor (which makes them even stronger and tougher,) can learn intel from eating the flesh of an enemy, etc., etc. Way back when, a bunch of 'em defected to Chaos, one of the Big Bads of that universe. The guy on the ground is one of them. The Imperium's most numerous warfighting force is the Imperial Guard, whose weak weaponry and overwhelming numbers have led to quips like, "It's not me you have to worry about, it's my 10,000 buddies" and "Choke their gun barrels with our dead."

The Imperial Guardsman is the guy being unwillingly wielded as a club with which the Space Marine is beating the Chaos Marine.