Title Which Is Of A Necessity Less Entertaining Than This Game's Title

I meant to write a post for Friday, I really did. I had it open and going this afternoon.
Then this
<-----
happened

First of all I love online distribution. I'm loathe to buy a video game at all if it can't be downloaded these days. The kind of instant gratification this offers is on par with a working replicator. I used to go to the store to get video games. The wait, that is to say the car ride home, was unbearable. Later I found out that the internet had a better selection and better prices. Waiting for games in the mail was horrible. I usually had to wait forever and a day and save up to buy it in the first place so the additional week or two was hell. I'll try to make myself sound less petty now. I'm an incredibly impatient person. It's a character flaw and I have to work at it really hard. So just, shut up. Sorry, back to my point. Finally I had steam and access to plastique. I buy the game, download the game, play the game, in that order and in less than an hour. When I bought the Orange Box I had all the games downloaded in about forty-five minutes. It was an intoxicating new sensation. Luckily for me, and a lot of other people really, tons of developers are hopping on the steam band wagon. All my favorite PC games are now on steam: Valve's little diamonds, the Civilization franchise, and any number of World War 2 themed games.

Last night I bought the new video game made by none other than the men behind Penny Arcade. It seems to me that if two men who make their entire living by playing and critiquing games actually make a video game it should completely rock your socks off. And honestly, this game did just that.

I do have some gripes but overall I loved the game. If you like RPG's (not the blowey-uppy kind) at all, that is to say if you have a gamer's bone in your body, you'll like this game. Want some proof? Demo, bitches. Go ahead it's not very big. The demo proved to me that the game was not complete fan service as everyone says. I'm not a Penny Arcade fan, I think the guys are a great artist and a great writer, they definitely have my respect. The game is a well thought out RPG with an amusing and strangely riveting story line. The characters may be more fun to someone familiar with the comic but the writing and art is so good that they're fantastic by themselves. I'm absolutely in love with the artwork. I think it's evocative, polished eye candy that just keeps coming. The best part is the mix of 2-D and 3-D artwork. You get to create a custom character that the game renders well in three dimensions but superbly in two. It's a thrill to see your character's expressions and reactions throughout the game. While the game has lots of inside jokes to delight the fans it's also funny in its own right. I expected to be slightly amused throughout this game, I was very amused very consistently. The number of times I laughed out loud, and quite heartily at that, chocks up big points for the game in my book. It was sincerely funny. The plot does not revolve around anything from the comic and the ubiquitous robots are the most truly in joke. Otherwise almost all of it, including about 90% of the enemies and 100% of the NPC's are unique to the game. The weapons, attacks, items; all new. The excellent quest and plot development and rich environment detail keep you from ever noticing that you're essentially running around in circles, re-hashing the same small set of maps. It turns the size of the game world into a strength instead of a weakness.

My gripes mainly revolve around the options. I wanted more, especially mouse sensitivity. I set mine to the max on every game I play and I personally found the RSPD mouse sluggish. I wanted a "reset" button on the character creation page so that I could get a clean palette when my new character was simply FUBAR. There were a couple mini games that were maddeningly difficult due primarily to poor design. The almost added to the enjoyment in a way though, hearkening back to classic games with awful mini games. Maybe it's just me.

The game was so engrossing that I played through the entire length with the hungry enjoyment with which I've played countless games before. Games made by the world's largest developers. It lasted longer than some of those too. I finished Half-life 2's Episodes One and Two in less time each. I played through portal in less than half the time. The fact that I could play The Rain Slick Precipice Of Darkness for pretty much ever more does leave me wanting though.

In the end it really is worth the twenty bucks, something I didn't believe before the demo opened my eyes. This is really my first review of a video game and I'd love some feedback. Drop a comment to tell me your thoughts about the review or the game!

And The Legos Shall Inherit The Earth

I'm glad I never got Mindstorms when I was a kid. My creations would have been so technically, intellectually and imaginatively stunted and pathetic compared to this that upon seeing it I would have killed myself out of inadequacy. The only thing that could make this better is if it weren't so mind numbingly slow. Wait, scratch that, I thought of something else that could make it better. If it were a bigger factory that built little lego car factories. So that you could just turn it on and in a day or two you'd have one of these factories just like in the video! Now that would be cool.

As an aside I found the video by googling 'car factory factory'.

Calling In

This is dudekazoo, I'm calling because I won't be saying much of anything tonight, I'm sick. Now you know why people don't like to hire me, I get sick a lot and subsequently miss work a lot.
I've been spending obscene amounts of time at this website, cracked.com, it's hilarious. It's also updated every day and has a huge back log of funny crap to read. Laughter is the best medicine after all, so maybe I'll be back on my feet by friday. I leave you with this picture of Kojak, for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Goodnight!

A Poignant Tale, One Minute Long.

Here's a strange and lovely tale. A child is born to a couple who live inside a magical car factory. All her life she watches as robots assist and eventually replace her parents. By maturity she is seen on her way not by her flesh and blood mother or father but by her mechanical mother. Her parents can only stand in the shadows and lament this unforeseeable turn of events. The home they believed would benefit their daughter has in fact shown her more than they ever could. They spend their remaining days in sorrowful acceptance, doted upon by their robotic superior who cannot conceive of the treachery it has committed with its unwavering service.

The Pirates Of The Digital Rightsibbean!

I want to state, before all else, that Piracy is, always has been and always will be really cool. I was just playing Rummy with my Pirate Playing Cards, I have Pirates Of The Caribbean decorations all over the room, I have swords, books and movies. From Where I'm sitting I can see my Black Beard DVD some fake doubloons and some pirate related trinkets. I'm a big fan. I even have pirate charms and memorabilia in my wallet. I know the difference between movie pirates and real pirates and fashion myself the latter. I am grateful to the recent films for one thing, they got little kids reading about pirates again. They used to be one of the number one imaginary games of all children, along with other stereotypes like Indians, Cowboys, and soldiers from any and all wars. I think pirates had taken a back seat to things like G.I. Joes and transformers for a while. Now they're back in their rightful place as kick-awesome childhood (and grown-up) fantasy.

There are still real pirates around the world, Africa is notorious, the coast of Somalia is probably the most dangerous strip of sea in the world. Just since 2006 millions have been paid in ransom to pirates who hijack ships and kidnap crews. They're making money to supply weapons to warlords on the shore and it's working. So, it would seem, pirates have not only had a revival in fiction but have jumped right off the page. Needless to say my inner child thinks this is sweet as candy. I of course do not condone real murder, theft or other international crimes on the high seas, but I can't help it if it spins one hell of a yarn.

The other area where pirates have taken the world by storm is the internet. This is where I'm truly a pirate. I'm pirating as I write this. I'm a self-righteous pirate as well. That's what I really want to talk about here. All the money piracy has made for a bunch of companies and all the money piracy has saved (not earned) for me.

Let's start at the beginning. By which I mean my money. I don't have any, never have. How can I buy something with no money? I can't. Simple right?
If I can not buy a CD, then how much money is the company making?
No money, correct.
If I download the CD how much money is the company making?
No money, again, correct.
Net gain? Zero.
If I download the CD and find that I really enjoy it and subsequently purchase all three of the CDs from the artist, how much money did the company make?
Thirty, forty bucks, something like that right?
Net gain, thirty to forty dollars. The company is now happy.

This is not stealing. Going into tower records and slipping a CD under your shirt is stealing. The store loses money. It's that simple. Someone once told me that illegally copying music was a slippery slope. I do not agree. Those little videos they show you as much as they can explicitly state that downloading shit is identical, morally, to literally stealing physical items, car jacking or looting. This is bull for so many reasons. My above example with the CD is hypothetical. You might consider it bologna because it seems contrived. Here is a rundown of all the money I have directly deposited into the pockets of Corporate America (and sometimes Japan) because I pirates something.

It starts with Civilization 3. I got a pirated copy and didn't even know what the game was like, I had played Civilization on the Super Nintendo. I became addicted. I loved it and still do. Eventually I bought the full game because some aspects were screwy in my version.
Civilization 3: $30
I loved it so much that I ended up buying these too.
Civilization 3: Conquests: $30
Civilization 3: Complete: $30
Civilization 4: $50
Civilization 4: Warlords: $20
Civilization 4: Beyond The Sword: $20
That's $180 just because I pirated a single archive one time several years ago! They can't pay for marketing that good. It was sort of a super detailed demo of the game.
My original copy of Half-life was Pirated. My buddy burnt me a disc when he got it. Here are the purchases I have made due to that fateful act of piracy.
Half-life Opposing Force and Blue Shift: $30
Half-life 2 and Episode One: $30
Garry's Mod: $10
Day Of Defeat: Source : $10
The Orange Box: $50
I got lucky in that I didn't have to pay for Day Of Defeat, Counter Strike, Team Fortress Classic or Deathmatch Classic. And no, it's not because I stole them, they used to be free if you had a retail version of Half-life and Steam.
Grand Total: $130! Now that I think about it those games were way more reasonably priced than the Civ Franchise.
I've bought movies and Cds totaling around a hundred dollars because I saw or heard them on my PC first. See, I don't like movies much. I DO NOT go to the theater. The movie producers have two choice: 1) I never see the film and they don't turn a profit 2) I pirate the film and maybe they turn a profit. At the very least I might gain a liking for a film maker or actor and purchase films later on. I bought Batman Begins after downloading it. Now I love Christian Bale and am more inclined to view/buy his movies. Trust me movie companies, you want me to be downloading these things.

Then there's console emulation, probably the most innocent sort of piracy. I've been doing this since I was ten. There wasn't a chance in hell I was getting a Game Boy or Pokemon, not under the poverty line. I had no choice. I "stole" Pokemon over the internet. This eventually led to hundreds of dollars in purchases. Game Boy Color, Pokemon Gold, Game Boy Advance, Game Boy Advance SP, Pokemon Sapphire, Nintendo DS. Not to mention any other hand held games I ever purchases. It's all because I found out, first hand, how much ass Pokemon kicked when I was little. Some games are so hard to find you have to emulate them just to play them, Uncharted Waters 2 is a good example. Fantastic game, and, when I have some cash, I hope to actually buy it. Emulators are never quite the same as the real thing and Nintendo realized how to turn that into cash. They invented the "Virtual Console" for the Wii. It's basically a really nice emulator that isn't free but has a nostalgia inducing controller and lets you play Super Metroid on your TV again. In the end it's totally worth the small fees for the old school games and it's way better than a keyboard and a computer monitor.

I haven't exhausted all of the ways piracy has benefited the companies I'm supposedly ripping off yet but I'm sure I've exhausted you so I will desist. I hope this has enlightened you as to the truth about piracy. If you're viciously anti-piracy then I hope this pissed you off and I can duel you with pistols or sabres, your choice, someday. I mean come on people, I'm not gonna buy a Baby Boy Da' Prince Album just so I can listen to one damned song!

Adieu!

Fear And Loathing In San Francisco: Epilogue

Forget what I said about recounting my time in San Francisco. I realized I was incapable of telling funny anecdotes about the city. They all just ended up as hateful ranting. It was just a really shitty day in a place I already disliked. A forceful affirmation of my old prejudices and possibly incorrect notions. I spent a whole day, sans argent, trying to find stuff to occupy myself with, or at least some place to sleep.

Here is the real reason my visit to the city sucked as bad as it did: The Bay To Breakers. This "race", it can be said, is a time for people to express themselves. A time to interact and connect with their fellow man. A time without prejudice or social stigma. In reality it is a chance to act as bat shit insane as you want, wear anything or nothing, break seemingly all city ordnances without consequence and get as drunk as possible in the streets. Alright, that's fine, I'm not going to judge, and neither should you. I just want you to watch that video and then imagine, to the best of your ability, driving in that. Not. Possible. We didn't mean to arrive in the city on that fateful day. We had no clue what had gotten into the water in San Francisco until we asked a pedestrian what the hell was going on.

I saw all the landmarks for which the city is famous (according to wikipedia): The Golden Gate Bridge, Cable Cars, Coit Tower, China town and Alcatraz, albeit from across the bay. It costs twelve bucks just to park for the Alcatraz tours. How much are the tours themselves? I shudder to think. The ubiquitous cable cars are something you will see frequently. They are packed with people and look pretty miserable. Even if they move through traffic with the impunity of Egyptian pharaohs. I saw China Town by accident. Road maps are next to useless when the Bay To Breakers have seemingly random roads blocked off. It's kind of like Super Mario Brothers, at every possible opportunity a bunch of drunks dressed like (well actually, some of them were dressed like mario) pirates and vikings tells you, "Your turn is in another neighborhood, you lost-ass tourist!"

Coit Tower was, much to my chagrin, just a tower. Although I thought it bore a striking resemblance to The Tower Of Hera from A Link To The Past which made it a little cooler. Instead of those caterpillar enemies there were just a ton of old asian men and women doing Tai Chi and/or walking their dogs. I saw the Golden gate from below where I was visiting an awesome locale, Fort Point. I really enjoyed Fort Point but it wasn't very big and I only spent a half-hour or so inside. I also drove through The Presidio, saw Fort Mason, Fort Funston, which I can only imagine looks like this, come to think of it, I saw more Forts than anything else. San Francisco is lousy with Forts.

I saw The Castro, the famously gay neighborhood. It was as gay, if not gayer than everyone thinks. I thought it was great that homosexual people had this small corner of the world where they were accepted without question. They were comfortable, open. It seemed like nirvana if you were a gay man. There was a huge rainbow flag flying above the district and a gym called "Take It Off, Get Ripped". All in all San Francisco seems to specialize in being accepting and accommodating to any and all minorities. This is, in my opinion, the only good thing about the city. So, there you go San Fran, I gave you props on something.

I don't think I'll ever go back to The Castro, as a heterosexual male I have zero need for giant sausage fest like that, I saw like four women. They were in pairs.

If I were rich or lived in the city (i.e. was rich) I might love the place. As it is I just think of it as an expensive, maze-like mass of pretentious nonsense, and I'm a liberal! I think it goes to show that San Francisco is so incredibly left that it takes a special kind to appreciate it. I guess after all we've been through San Francisco, we'll just have to agree to disagree and go our separate ways.

Here's to you San Fran, keep up the freaky, just, don't bother me anymore.

Fear And Loathing In San Francisco: Prologue

There it is. San Francisco. You can look upon the entire breadth of it from Treasure Island. As I was doing so I was muttering "Stupid San Francisco, I hate stupid San Francisco. Why do I have to go back into stupid San Francisco". You see, I hate that city. I really do. On so many levels, for so many reasons. People who have never been there may not understand. People who live there might want to kick my ass out of civic pride. I don't care.

I've always hated San Francisco, ever since my first trip there. I was very young and I didn't go back for many years. I could recall little, only crowds, bums, crazies, cars, litter. I remembered too much of everything and the claustrophobic effect of endless buildings. I've grown up now and am no longer afraid of big cities, that is something a small child from the country is prone to, and now I just hate them.

Over the next few days I will recount my adventures in the city, with as little animosity as possible. I went to San Francisco as a fringe party of a road trip. My sister was going to a concert and I didn't want to pass up a free trip to the city. I was going to take pictures and write. Well, I took pictures. Writing was difficult, I find I am not very inspired while feeling enraged. Usually this was road rage, but not always.

dudekazoo: Journalistic Credibility Almost As Low As Fox News

The Great War. The War to End All Wars. The First World War has many names and a unified reputation for horror and brutality. It's generally true that people don't really know all that much about the war, if you ask them they will recall only the most dim fragments of high school history class. Trenches, gas-masks, muddy craters, and sometimes The Red Baron. What most people do not realize, however, is that the war never really ended. No, I don't mean because it directly spawned the Second World War. I mean the men of that great crusade never stopped dying. To this day combatants from around the world perish and not one person bats an eye. The death toll is staggering, of the more than sixty million men mobilized during the war only a handful remain. If laid head to foot the dead could circle the earth's equator two and a half times. Absolutely staggering. It won't be long, now, before the death finally ends. Soon enough one of these century long rivals will triumph. In a stunning act of betrayal John F. Babcock, after having served his country for sixty-two years, became a Canadian citizen, seriously damaging the U.S. war effort and putting Canada ahead in the bid for supremacy. It shouldn't have been unexpected, however, Babcock was originally a Canadian citizen and only defected in the forties.

In the years to come we will see the end of the war. Now let us all beseech the blessing of almighty God on this great and exhaustive undertaking.



About the author:
J. Braandon, known usually as dudekazoo, is a cynical and irredeemable youth who is bent on finding his way to Hell through either the abuse of kittens and children or the ridicule of dying old war heroes.

The Desert

As night was settling on the desert a man was brought back to camp. He was wounded and in desperate need of medical intervention. They stretched him out on a simple cot and laid him on the sand inside an unoccupied tent. When they had all rushed back out the man was left all alone with only the dark folds of the tent and the swaying flaps of it's door.

Dazed from the pain he waited, trying confusedly to arrange the jumbled events of the day and give them order and context. He struggled to array them in such a way as to deduce how he had arrived at this juncture. All the while the fractured images kept slipping and fading. He began to despair of ever recalling what had truly happened.

As the darkness solidified the moon came out, quite full, and shone through the tents flaps and glowed all around. Periodically the man heard voices, or clattering pots, or the sound of horses, and always the murmur of the tent itself. He couldn't tell if he had been conscious consistently or if he had dozed. It seemed he must have, but he could not be sure. Time was stretching and becoming doggedly difficult to track. His body felt extraordinarily heavy, as well as his breathe. His lungs had to push very hard to lift his chest. He couldn't understand what he was awaiting. He couldn't recall where everyone had gone or when. The breeze wafting into the tent began to chill him uncomfortably and he shivered.

As he stared vacantly at the ceiling he heard the soft sound of footsteps outside. The entry was lifted open and he felt relieved that someone had come at last. To his surprise a young woman stepped inside. She had dark skin like the good earth. Her eyes were black and shone like a cat's in the moonlight. Her raven hair was tied delicately in red ribbon, lifting it away from her soft face. On her body she wore a billowing white gown, blue under the moon. On her feet she wore nothing. With a caring and tender smile tracing her full lips she elegantly whispered over the sand to him. She slowly bent down. kneeling beside him she brought her lips to his in a gossamer kiss. He closed his eyes blissfully and was able to breathe deep and clear for the first time in what seemed like days. When he opened his eyes again she was standing, leaning over slightly and offering him her hand with the same small smile, although he now thought it seemed the tiniest bit sad. Realizing how much lighter and more vital he felt he reached up and put his hand in hers. It seemed to him that she pulled him up more than he stood of his own strength. She inclined her head toward the door as she began to slowly move. He sighed happily and followed. As the moon shone the two of them stepped out of the tent.

As soon as the surgeon arrived he told the men to wait outside. He went in and all was silent for a long moment. At last he reemerged with a sad look on his face.
"I'm afraid he has passed. He never really had a chance. But look inside for yourselves, he has a smile on his lips. It looks like the happiest man among us is the one who has at last been freed by death."

The men peered into the tent and found that he did in fact have a smile of real joy gracing his face. It was so sad yet beautiful that they all felt at peace just to see it.

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day mom. I want to thank you for bringing me into this world, bringing me up in this world, and helping me be someone I want to be. This picture is the sum of your accomplishments that make this day so special. Here are all the adoring faces, all the grateful souls, all the hard work you've put in.
Thank you for being my mom.

A Little Something For You

I had the opportunity to participate in something called a "Power Hour' earlier. It was a game in Day of Defeat: Source. Essentially we run around and cause chaos whilst listening to music. Every minute the song changes and we drink. Needless to say this was hilarious. A great time. I was somewhat disappointed when I ran out of rum.
Here's a great insight into an old story
Here's the shirt
Here's a 'game' you need to investigate
Here's another 'game'
They're really interactive stories. But I'm still trying to beat them. I know there's got to be a way to win.
Here's a comic that I thought was utterly brilliant. If you dig the Middle Ages or video games, check it the hell out.
There, i know it was really just a link dump but it was still a post, and on Friday too. I kept the schedule for once. Now I'm out of here.

A Thinly Veiled Excuse For A Post

I can tell you this one thing: I would always keep to the pointless and uninspired schedule I laid down if I weren't constantly assailed by opportunities for fishing, drinking, video games or other forms of awesomeness. Take yesterday for example: I was awakened with the information that one of my friends was in the driveway. I leaped out of bed, grabbed a clean shirt, did a slip shod job of tying back my hair (I'm sort of a long haired jerk) and ran out to the driveway bleary eyed and be-socked.
"You want to go fishing?"
What am I supposed to do, say no?
"Yeah, sure, I'll be right back."
I ran back inside, slammed a tall cup of coffee, used the facilities and put on shoes. Not more than five minutes after waking up I was driving down the road in a pick-up truck ready to do some fishing. It's worth noting that I'm a worthless layabout and it was around five o'clock when this took place. Don't judge me. Or do, but, do it in a comment to this post.
I caught seven fish, only two worth keeping. I began to joke about all the fish that had been within an inch of death and had been spared by the hand of God. "Those fish are going to fish church every Sunday here out, you know that." My compatriots were kind enough to tell me I was a plagiaristic hack and that I had essentially just told a Jeff Foxworthy joke. Damn you Foxworthy! Truly you are a worthy foe. Hehehe, that's kind of funny, except somebody probably already said it, because that's how it works. I had this joke about how nobody ever hears anything about the Pretty Okay Wall Of China. Turns out Demetri Martin already had a joke about the Good Wall Of China. What really burns my ass about that one is that I firmly believe my version is funnier. Oh well, I'll just let bygones be bygones, since I don't have a lawyer and they certainly do. I'm putting in research to ensure that my jokes are original from now on.
I'll try to put a comic up tomorrow, in the mean time why don't you consider leaving a comment?

Magic: The Blathering

Have you ever taken a tinkle and then immediately thereafter had something to drink? Did you think,"What did I really just accomplish here"? Fine, just, forget I asked.

This weekend I found myself at a Magic Card tournament held in a local hobby shop. I'm a veteran of many Magic Tournaments, dating back to middle school, but this one was unique in my experience. Mainly it differed by being the least miserable. Somehow I never really enjoyed myself at card tourneys, excepting the rare occasions that I won of course. Yet every Tuesday evening there I was, nervously shuffling my Magic cards, in the food court of the mall. Truly the fondest memories I have of those tournaments are all the times I had enough money to get Sbarro's pizza. That was really great pizza. Eventually I stopped attending, driven away by the twenty-something losers who had nothing better to do in their moms' basements than spend all of their money on Magic cards in order to smash little kids at the local mall, and the little kids with decks completely funded by their rich but rarely present parents. I was continually improving, improvising, devising, reducing, trimming, slimming and testing my deck. I would spend all week on it, craft it to perfection, and then somehow draw the most inoperable, unlucky series of cards in all my real games at the tournament. This caused humiliating, and truly unjust, defeat.

I still play Magic with my buddies, we sit around and drink beer, smoke, make jokes at one another's expense, and throw down on the field of nerdy, fantasy battle. Last time we played they told me about this tournament, it was going to be a sealed deck style tournament, which piqued my interest. At a sealed deck tourney everyone receives a modicum of random cards. Essentially the entry fee is used to buy these packs of cards, one hundred and five at this shop, so you're not really out anything if you lose. All the players sit around for an hour and build the best forty card decks they can with the limited resources available to them. Once this has been accomplished the players are squared off in one on one matches. Each player competes in three matches and accrues points therein. The main draw of this format, to me, is the emphasis on strategy. I don't have to spend five hundred dollars a month on new cards to win this kind of tournament. It's all about working with what you've got. At the end of the tournament the highest ranked players are awarded new packs of cards and everyone gets a special promo card, which is generally worth a great deal of money before that moment, afterward it is extremely deflated.

To attend one of these tournaments one must be DCI certified. This entails filling out a small application sheet and receiving your DCI card. After you've done this you are officially a card carrying nerd. I got a DCI card last summer when I went to a tournament. Since then I have lost the card and totally stopped caring that I have done so. When I entered the sealed deck this weekend I had to fill out a new card. I impishly decided to put dudekazoo as my name both on the card itself and application. Somewhat concerned that it would be rejected if I used a single name (I'm no Cher or Madonna) I hastily tacked on the first last name I could conjure up. My friend Brandon asked me if I was related to Morgan. When it came time for the owner of the store, doubling as judge, to match players up he called out," Josh! You'll be playing...uh...Mr. Freeman over here." When he paired me up for my second match he called me dudekazoo but couldn't quite pull it off without a hesitancy in his voice. Every time he said it he seemed to gain new confidence though, so by the end when he handed me my prize money (i.e. magic cards) he shortened it familiarly to "dude". Aside from playing under a false identity the tournament was enjoyable for other reasons. The shop didn't reek of adolescent losers with poor self-esteem and poorer personal hygiene. It was a clean, professional store, but not altogether formal. It was casual without the usual squalor. The players were the least objectionable group of Magic aficionados I ever laid eyes on. I didn't hate any of them. None of them made my skin crawl. Usually there are at least a few of those poor excuses for humanity that one imagines must play Vampire: The Eternal Struggle and subsist entirely on Hot Pockets, but not this time. There were a couple guys who were a little too into the game but they didn't earn my animosity because they earnestly loved Magic and weren't being obnoxious pricks. I can't abide jerk offs, but I'm fine with dorks. In the end I took Fifth place, which earned me two booster packs. It may not sound like much but I felt good about it.

So, now you know, I'm a big nerd.

Gaussian Flare

It was a temperate, easy twilight. The sun had disappeared almost entirely beyond the western mountains. Only the most ethereal of hues were now painted on the belly of the sky. The dark ocean blue of the heavens; the thick purple crowned blues that wrapped the broken and myriad canopy of clouds. And, off in the west, warmed with a splash of gold, the delicate blues of light's final bastion.

Beneath this painting the trees all around spoke softly in their evening voices. With hushed but hurried sentences they recounted the day's events. Some were friends, laughing and thrashing the air in their mirth. Some were lovers, caressing each other's boughs and creating an even more passionate melody. Sweet nothings elicited by the cool, casual wind. In their divers and distinct voices they babbled in a ceaseless chorus, filling the world with sound underneath the failing twilight.

The Time Of Your Wife

I've decided to update on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, plus whenever I feel like it. I'm not sure why or whether I'm going to stick with but I'm announcing it nonetheless. I'll write something on the morrow, it being Friday. Until then, why not take a look at this.