SMUGGLED SET FROM IRL PROVES EN PASSANT IS NOT REAL!!!

New Development!  Our team has located a Xerox of a microfilm in the archives.  

The lab was able to do a partial reconstruction based on DNA, but only the first page could be salvaged.

Independent Experts have confirmed that this is almost certainly the earliest extant reference to what later became known as En Passant:

Well, maybe technically, but Barney's threads are very creative. I enjoy them immensely. :-)

Yes. They are indeed creative. 

Breaking Now: It was only with great difficulty that this Reporter was able to locate Dr. Sanjay Chaturanga, the renowned  Chess Archaeologist.  Located in the vast, untamed Badlands of eastern New Jersey, the Great Scientist's lab is indeed state of the art.

As shown below, advanced tests were conducted on the rules sheet, including full submersion in D.A.W.N. 1, a highly volatile compound only available to researchers with the highest Security Clearance.  Be Warned:  Do NOT attempt anything like this at home, work, or anywhere else for that matter.

At first, nothing.  But then the Brilliant Scientist suggested turning the Cursed Parchment over, revealing a hitherto unknown manifesto.  Dr. Sanjay's assessment, based on syntax and grammar, is that it is most likely derived from the writings of an Indian Prince, originally scribed in Pali/Sanskrit.

Using an improvised carbon-dating system with EzStart™ grilling charcoals and Clorox™ bleach, we were able to determine that the ink dates from somewhere around 934 B.C.  This finding is supported by the date at the bottom of the extraordinary missive:

For the record, it was sound67 that, unprovoked, VICIOUSLY BLOCKED this Reporter, despite said Reporter NEVER having blocked, attempted to contact sound in any way, or ever attempting to make any comment at all on, much less troll, any of sound's boring Chess Equipment threads.  An unwarranted block that continues to this day.  Perhaps it is sound67, by continually, gratuitously, obsessively, and with obvious latent hostility trolling this Reporter's threads, that is in need of psychiatric care?!?

That's funny the way you guys talk about the OP, like they are in the other room.

"I can't decide if he's a troll or just droll."

"Oh, look though!  ... he's so creative!"

"Yup, definitely one of those 'creative' types."

It's like,  "hellooo ... I can heeeear you!" 

I guess I did a Homer - I thought I was just thinking that stuff... doh!

lol

BREAKING NOW!!!  SECOND NON-PASSANT SET EMERGES!!!

It was only a few short weeks ago that Dr. Chaturanga burst though this Reporter's door with monumental news!

"Barney, Barney, one of my researchers says that there's another set without en passant!  But we need to go to Cairo, and then Rome to find it!"

"Cairo and then Rome?  Amaaazing!  This Reporter has always wanted to wear a pith helmet while riding in a camel caravan, and then the Colosseum, it'll be so grea––"

" No, it's  Cairo and Rome New York, you blathering buffoon.  And no one wears pith helmets anymore, they smack of Western colonialism, in fact my ancestors and the British have a lot of beef about tha––"

"Rubbish, old chap, no one wants to hear your mawkish musings about ancient history."

"Why the ersatz British accent, fool?  Just because you watched too much Monty Python as a kid doesn't mean you can even do that.  Your attempt is even worse than John Malcovitch's Russain accent in Rounders!"

We looked at each other, each realizing that this was going to be one long, strange trip. 

And so we were off. It was a race against time, because word on the chess street was that some scoundrel named "Erik" was already on the way to procure the set at a hefty price.

Dr Chaturanga (this Reporter's going to just call him Dr. Chattie from now on, but he won't know that until he reads this article; hope it p**ses him off lol), was already prepared.

"I've got two tickets on Trailways, we can be there in six hours."

" Trailways?  But this Reporter has never heard of that airline."

" It's not a plane it's a bus, imbecile."

"But there will still be stewardesses right?  Like in Catch Me If You Can?"

Dr Chattie sighed, "No ... no stewardesses, and they're called flight attendants these days.  Come on, dimwit, we must leave now!"

This Reporter was famished.  "Hey, what sort of food do they serve on the bus?"

"They don't serve food on the bus, you cretin."  Dr. Chattie looked kind of resigned, for some reason.

"Not even in First Class?"

Dr. Chattie just shook his head.

"Well how about that Italian place right there?"

He peered through the window.  "No way.  They've got checkered table cloths, we'd never make the bus in time.  You remember that other place when you asked me to pass the salt..." 

"Ok, but what, then?"

"Here's a tin of Spam, you can eat it as we walk."  

The line for the bus was moving along.  About four people ahead of us was a man in a hoodie, clearly in the company of several classic goon types.

The Driver was taking tickets, but suddenly he looked up at hoodie-man, as he read the ticket.  "Huh. Erik with a 'k', don't see that too much.  Where ya from?"

Hoodie-man snatched his ticket back, saying nothing as he and the lunkheads brushed past.

"Dang foreigners, ain't got no manners", the Driver muttered to himself as he continued taking tickets.

Dr. Chattie and this Reporter looked at each other with alarm, the consternation showing clearly in our eyes above our N-95 designer paisley masks.

The bus was squalid and smelled of unwashed feet.  "Erik" and his crew had taken up the first three rows of seats, and sat sullenly in intimidating silence.  Except for "Erik" himself (who this Reporter thought would be bigger), his team was comprised of some massive dudes, all trapezius, not a neck in sight.

Dr. Chattie and this Reporter made our way to the last two sets at the back, near the toilet.  

"It figures that a big shot like "Erik" could afford First Class and we have to ride coach."

Dr. Chattie mumbled something in response that this Reporter could not make out.

This Reporter checked under the seat and let out a cry of dismay.

"What is it now?" for some reason Dr. Chattie sounded exasperated.

"They forgot to put my life-jacket under my seat!"

Dr. Chattie just stared out the window, perhaps contemplating the grand adventure ahead.

The bus lurched, jolting this Reporter awake from uneasy dreams.

"Sanjay, Sanjay, this is it, we're going down!  I love you bro!"

"We're not going down, we just hit a pothole, you moron.  Now let go of my arm, freak."

"Did I turn into a giant insect while I was asleep again?"

" No, now take these pills, get a grip, and chill the @#%$ out."

Soon thereafter this Reporter drifted off again.

Nice posts Barney!

Thanks, Aun!

"Wake up, Barney, we're in Cairo."

"Wha...wha...happened?"

"Snap to, dummkopf, we've got to get off the bus!"

We got onto the tarmac just in time to see "Erik" and his Villainous Vassals get into a black helicopter and fly off.

This Reporter sank, sitting on the curb, while Dr. Chattie could do nothing but pace, looking at the sky, pacing, pacing ....

What now?!?

"Hey Sanjay, why are we in Cairo anyway?  It doesn't look like much.  What's so important about Cairo, New York?"

"This is where we switch busses, you ... you ... ah, just put on your dunce cap and go sit in the corner while I figure out what to do."

"Hey maybe flash my Chess Reporter card and commandeer a car, or truck, even."

"Shut up, just shut up."

lol

Dr. Chattie's head snapped up.  There was a twinkle in his eye.

"Of course!!!", he exclaimed loudly.

"Of course!!!", this Reporter practically shouted.

"Why did you say 'of course!' too, you don't even know what I was about to say."

"It looks like you're in a bad mood so it seemed better to just agree with you."

"Why me, why me?", Dr. Chattie moaned, inexplicably.