by: BabyfaceGangsta
on: Apr-22-2009

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Can anyone change my status to member instead of recruit? I remember signing up a while back. Unfortunately I do not remember my original information. As you know I have been involved with H3 for a long time now. Im figuring since 07 or 06. Dunno for sure. Anyway, If I have to build in order to get my rank up. I will do that, if not just be a friend and change the status. Peace
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by: BabyfaceGangsta
on: Apr-22-2009

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Well for the past two days I have been back and forth with Steam support and I finally got my account back. It so happens that I was hijacked by some asshole and he decided to take the kids identity. FUCKIN NOOB ASSS MUTHAFUCKA!!! Anyway, I am back online and willing to accept friend requests ;-) Even though I have added most of you. If anyone is available please send me an invite to the H3 group. I hope that SOB gets banned, if not I will make sure he does. Peace to all H3 representatives.
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by: KRONIK
on: Feb-26-2008

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hey everyone theres a new vent ip its 75.126.228.240 port: 5542 use it! :P and i would also like some help from a few of you with trying to get these forums active its pretty crucial :P just start urging people to use the forumsvent and some of the new members might need member access so if thats the case let me know and ill do what i can to get it fixed :D

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by: ipro
on: Jan-03-2009

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im new please add me in steam: svenni9993
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by: super krazee
on: Nov-28-2008

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what the fuck man i cant start playing can i get some help

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by: poopyhead
on: Feb-28-2008

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guys i have had so much crap to be delt with i am so sorry about not being able to give any contributions and i feel terrible.i dont have ebay or paypal anymore so i have to find a way to pay thank you so much for lettingstill in and letting me play hello to all and i will return. thankyou sincerely, poopyhead(aka platinumtech)

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by: neonYEN(S.Zissou)
on: Nov-1-1999

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Hello again my fearless clanmates. This blog comes from a weary and worn out neon; as I have just returned from a trans Pacific voyage of epic proportions, mystical interactions and savage observations of Japan. The trip began as I dug my nails into the arm rests of the Jet as is screamed out of San Francisco and headed up to Russia. 6 Vodka Tonics later I was semi sedated to a point where I could easily toss and turn while I dreamt about my parachute rig and anti-gravity Lazy Boy recliners. 11 hours and 10 smoking wheels later we landed just outside of Tokyo. Tokyo,... simply put,... is a mix between the dark and mysterious landscape of "Bladerunner" (if you have not seen it,.. rent it NOW) and the futuristic vision of the "Jetsons". The spotless hotel-shuttle picked me up and began a journey, at times suspended 10 stories over downtown Tokyo, swerving in and out of Skyscrapers that appeared to go on forever. You can not see the outside of the city from within. Over 700 square miles of perfect infrastructure, taller than most anything in the U.S.,.. A BASE jumper's dream come true. It boggles the eye and begs for the entrance of Godzilla. An endless stream of men in black suits flows, in and out of subway stations, taxis and road crossing spans. Like a river flowing through a dense forest. Consistent. At times with great speed. Yet always effortlessly. No eye contact is made in this place of forever work. To do so would trigger an avalanche of greetings that would soon leave the participants quivering on the sidewalks,.. like fish if the ocean were drained. Instead, greetings and nods of hello's are exchanged from behind the closed doors of restaurants and bars,.. after the population is with Sake or Beer in hand. At this time,... the quiet society seems to change into a red faced Karaoke machine that laughs and dances into the wee hours of the morning. The sheer exuberance and energy required to live such a lifestyle is overwhelming when viewed through western eyes. At times it is almost too much to comprehend. Morning comes in the land of the rising sun and you are 1,500 years in the past. The now orange light bounces off the eastern Pacific and gives life to 1,000 year old Shinto Shrines and reveals monks, gently bowing,... surrounded and encased within the city. A city that seems to wait patiently for them to finish. Before it comes to life like a giant Borg consortium. Through western eyes this land is strange. Through western eyes it is more advanced. Through western eyes,.. there is no life. It is not human. Not as we know it. We know human by seeing them lay on the streets in filth as they beg. We know humans because they tell stories with their eyes. We know human because we yell while you sit at a green light. We are alive. There is no dirt in Tokyo, unless it neatly feeds the trees or flowers. There are no dents on cars. There are no homeless. There is honor. There is determination. Suicide is high.
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by: Neenja
on: Mar-13-2008

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yo update my status man. . . i aint no freakin recruit son!!! haha yea man read the bio had some issues but got them fixed. chyea!!!

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by: poopyhead
on: Feb-28-2008

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thanks guys agaiin for giviing me an opprotunity to play with all of you.lawl is great an is going to iraq in nov so pray for his safety thank you.

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by: neonYEN(S.Zissou)
on: Nov-1-1999

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I used to often wonder, while looking at images of Roman Soldiers, Greek Warriors in combat,..Death and Gloom,.... What would cause a man to want to risk life and limb? what could compel a normal individual to place their life in the hands of another? Why would anyone,..charge head first into battle,...sacrificing their flesh at the whims of steel and arrows, blood and carnage, filth and destruction. And yet I,..your faithful clanmate,...headed out to Battle yesterday morning. Knowing right well,...that I may never return alive,..or in one piece again.

Ok,..so it wasn't *really a battle,...I was heading out to go Golfing,..but still,....any time you are surrounded by 80 year old dudes who are flinging little white balls around like an Irish Bartender playing Darts,..well,...I consider that War.

I stepped up to the first Tee,...looked across the 450 Yard Battle field,..grabbed my Club,..gave a nod to the Gods,...and began my masochistic ritual of self abuse and debauchery.

Everything seemed to be going Ok,..I found the Green on my second shot,..narrowly avoiding the bunkers and a complete Physiological breakdown. I ran swiftly like a Marine storming the beaches and secured my little ball while waiving my Putter around at anything that moved. Things were going good,....almost too good.

And then I saw them,....a 4some,..mulling around the next fairway like blind sheep,..grazing in an open field. My blood boiled as I stepped up to the Tee,.only to be left waiting while the group in front of us looked on. And they were looking,..not swinging.

"Hit the fucking ball you piece of shit! Fucking mule! Swing you bastards,.this is War!"

Eyebrows raised and eyes widened, as my voiced echoed across the course. But hey,..what was I to do,..calmly wait while 4 bastards linger on a Par 5? Oh no,...I did what any shell shocked soldier would do,..I teed up my ball and cranked it down the fairway in their general direction. Like the mighty Achilles, I hurled my projectile like a missile,..a frik'n Mortar round,...a little round piece of death from above,...a slice.

"NOOOOOOOOOooooooooo!",....

You see my loyal clanmates,...Golf is perhaps the most ruthless and pathetic of all sports,...it can take a well mannered person and have them cursing and attempting to take a crap on a semi-moving object while waiving metal objects around like a freshly Maced Priest on Sunday. Devout Nuns have been heard attempting to sell their souls to the Devil while trying to save Par. Real Estate Agents and Car Salesmen have given up hookers and returned to a Hermit like existence due to a double boogie. Yes my dear friends,....Golf is hell. I truly believe it was developed by the Scots, in an attempt to assimilate the rest of the world into quivering Alcoholics. And it is working.

Hemingway might have trumped around Africa with a machete,..hacking down vegetation in search of something elusive, worthless and weird,...and I am no different. Using my 9 iron,..I cut down small shrubberies and flowers in search of my ball. Visions of vegetarian protesters came into my mind as I chopped down small trees and scarred furry woodland creatures into a frenzy. If I had seen a Chipmunk on a stick,..playing with his nuts,..I would have attempted to kill it and eat it raw. I was pissed. And then,..like a vision of Gold,..like finding a Drunk Leprechaun at the end of a fucking rainbow,..then beating his ass,...I found my ball.

Carefully nestled between roots and some dirt,..like a bum in Central Park,..my ball lay in camouflage.

"Ah HA!",..."you little fucker",...

Squinting and bobbing my head like a Parrot on Acid,..I struggled to find and opening to the Fairway. All that could be detected was a small hole between two, large,..permanent,..trees. I raised my fist and cursed the Gods,..gripped my club and closed my eyes. "Fuck Tiger Woods" I thought to myself, as sparks flew from the bottom of my club as it smacked my cowardly ball with a "click". Normally my ball would have ricochet off a tree, forcing me to bend like Neo,..only slower,..and without returning upright. But this time,...perhaps because the Gods were cursed,...it actually made it through the small,..gloomy,..seemingly impossible hole,..back wince it came.

And there I was,...I emerged from the dense woods,..confused, disoriented and dehydrated,..staggering towards my cart in search of distilled spirits. My arms were too tired from clearing the brush to even swing my club in aggressive manners,...I was a broken man. I knew that a Boogie was the best that I could get and that I would technically be "lucky" to achieve that. The 4some that had antagonized me into this horrid predicament had now diminished into small, midget like people on the horizon. I knew that if I did not act soon,..that I could collapse and possibly be trampled by an LPGA player, like a delicate flower under the hooves of a female Buffalo. I tried to orient myself under the blazing sun,...West was to my right and I knew the first Tee looked East,...the Bar Cart Girl was on the 6th Tee when I was on the 2nd and SHIT!,.. Where was the Beer Wench when you needed them most,..like a bleeding soldier on the battle field screaming "MEDIC" my cries echoed unheard. But I had to press on.

I knew then,..in my heart of hearts why those Roman and Greek warriors did what they did. I hope you never find yourself in a life and death struggle my friends,..but if you do,..hopefully you like I,.will dig deep and realize your potential,..your need to survive,..your Humanistic instinct to conquer vast, strange and dangerous lands,..in the search for glory,.Glory!

It is a reaction of criminal intentions and dramatic repercussions,..combined gently with plaid pants and respirators. The young and old come to these fields to do battle against themselves, in a futile attempt to gain respect amongst the elderly and overly developed lesbian women. If I was dictator my friends,..I would have this sport banned. I would import vast numbers of Puertorican Taxi drivers into Scotland,..then stand back and watch the carnage. Nothing is worse than Golf,...except being a Golfer. We are a small number of doomed idiots,...wandering around aimlessly in search of glory. Just like the Roman and Greeks of our past,...we are blood thirsty and dangerous,...but hopefully we will Evolve into something better in the future,..Literary geniuses of the past have failed miserably while trying to describe exactly "why" it must go on,..so I shall not even try to rationalize it,...nope,..I'm going to scrape off the dirt and flower remnants from my clubs,...for the fight must go on.,...I survived to fight another day,..Valhalla will wait.
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by: neonYEN(S.Zissou)
on: Nov-1-1999

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I managed to make it out of San Francisco last night after what appeared to have been a 2 day booze infested flee from semi-organized law enforcement.

I was bamboozled into this fiasco by my girlfriend who used the excuse of having her Gallery opening there,..which was true. She is a painter and was showing her works (oil on canvas) in a group show at the "Hang" Gallery in down-town S.F.

Suitable name I might add,...the "Hang" gallery makes even the most Prozac pumped tofu eating yoga instructor to want to commit suicide via flambe instruments and a plastic spork. This place was crawling with pseudo intellectual steroid infested battle dikes that somehow all resembled Elvis Costello in a strange way,...only meaner. And there I was,...your faithful clanmate,..stuck without a binary AK to help ease my suffering,...and to make this cataclysmic horrid nightmare even more weird,..I was there to promote and help make sales of Art.

It was bleak my friends,...German photographers and those suspected of being German were trouncing around in ugly shoes and rubbing chins in my general direction. Luckily I had consumed a 5th of Gin in the local ghetto before staggering in my nicely ticked Italian suit up to the sherade.,...so there was no need for random acts of violence or for kicking their Poodle in the throat. Besides,..my adrenaline reserves were depleted and I knew if I broke anything that my girlfriend would turn on me in a second,..probably throw a cheese oriented orderve in my general direction and basically make a big scene.

I don't know if it was the $300 bill for numerous $10 drinks or the fact that I somehow got chased by a depraved swing band,..but I strongly suggest never entering a place that is filled with cheap but expensive hookers and expensive yet very cheap wine,...then letting everyone in there know how you feel.

Not that the hookers weren't nice,..i'm sure between their HIV shots and Syphilis exams that they are making nice grades in their Social Studies class.

Just what their mom's back at the trailer park would want....but I digress.

San Francisco is a fucked up city that goes to sleep at 10:15pm. Driving back on their 3rd world roads and shotty bridge work made a bad hangover even worse,..but we did make it back. 6 pounds of rotting meat and Vulture piss would make a nicer dish than half the things they try to fleece you for in that god forsaken,.over-built with nothing to show for it, overpriced in every way piece of Lemming mentality Liberal blindness that infects this beautiful state of California with everything the Right Wing needs to make us ALL look like frik'n wing nuts, shit hole of a city fucking San Fran-Fucking-cisco.

Oh,..and,...now they fuck you up the ass when you cross the bridge and fleece you for a final $4,...plus they have the nerve to not let you use a debit card,..no,..you need to have $4 in cash,...and if you pay with a $20,...well,...some tofu eating Prozac infested Yoga instructor behind you is going to have a fit in his Preus because I'm making him late for a Gallery opening.

Fuck San Francisco and Fuck tofu. Long live H3 and ground meat products.!
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by: Marijuana
on: Feb-26-2008

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New site!!   Everyone Should thanks Neon :-)
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