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September 12th, 2006
04:36 am - Ipods- Droplets of White Pain Amongst Us?
I have failed to mention up until this point, but I have switched jobs quite some time ago. Yes, no longer bound as a slave to the phones of Murkwood Marketing, conducting paltry consumer questionnaires and occaisonally worming into the feeble minds of men the seed of the Dark Lord's will, that it might grow and fester, to bring those fools under his command when at last he rises again to claim dominion over these pathetic Men and Near-Men of Middle Earth! ... However, the sad truth of such an existance is that the majority of Elves have fled (they have sensed that my Most Illustrious Master is merely waiting to strike again and have made for themselves a cowardly, yet justified retreat), and Men have invented an inter-kingdom Do Not Call list, so my tasks have been mostly confined to the lesser races. Have you ever tried to convince a Goblin that the survey you are trying to administer to him will be necessary not because you will provide him with a live, squirming prey animal, but because he can receive a discount when ordering from our website? The conversation is not very rewarding for either party, I can assure you.
My new position is actually quite a vertical leap in the pathetic "ladder" which mortals have created to measure their success during their brief flicker of life. I realized from my continued necessary dealings with the "techs" and website programmers from Murkwood that this new and powerful Internet is a far broader and more open tool for the binding of Man and his allies to the Will of Our Lord Sauron. After creating a resume and tendering my resignation, I applied for a job at the Two Towers High Speed Internet Service Provider. Due to my "diplomatic" skills and my previous position as a telephone operator, I was granted the position of Head of Tech Support, which has proven to be largely a manager position, with little actual technical knowledge required. Although wise, gifted, powerful and knowledgable in the Arcane Arts, I have little experience with the upkeep of Mankind's latest machines. While more difficult, this job is more rewarding overall, and as I gain the trust of my fellow employees, I am carefully determining how best to turn this company to my uses when the time should arise!
However, I'm sure you're all hanging in anticipation of why I have given to this Journal Entry the name which I have. All of what I have said to this point is relevant, I assure you. With this new job, I was issued a brand new device that has been termed an "I-Pod". This device has been given to us both to raise employee morale, and to allow us to "Save" and carry our projects back and forth from work, that we might continue our labors at home, if we so desire. While my fellow employees have found this to be a very enjoyable gift, I cannot say that I share their enthusiasm for this tiny, white torture device.
Smooth and simple, one would not expect such a device would hold the potential for such supposed convenience, and for such very real pain. While my work computer is a "Macintosh" for which I believe I-Pods are made, my home computer I acquired from a neighbor who was relieving himself of it, and I do not believe it to be a "Mac," as they say. Every attempt I make at connecting my I-Pod to my computer has ended in miserable defeat on my part, loathe as I am to admit it. Josh has long since moved out, not that I would have been able to request help from that foul beast, anyway, and His Dark Lord is woefully unfamiliar with the technical world. I have acquired the "Program" known as "I-Tunes," but that does not help my situation much at all. Quite unfortunately, it seems to have had an opposite effect, and I find it difficult to run my computer for as long as this I-Tunes remains on it. I cannot determine, either, how exactly to impart upon the tiny device how to play music unto me at my request, and while my own remains silent, my co-workers' own devices flow with music of an odious sort. This is not even beginning to describe the effect that these objects have had upon my employees. No longer am I able to gather their attentions and direct their movements, they remain distracted by the damnable machines, no matter how many times I repeat that they must remove the tiny "Headphones" from their ears while on the job. I fear that some advanced and secret form of mind-control is at work, warping my co-workers into willing slaves to the "Macintosh" empire. How could anything so evil have escaped my notice, or the Mighty Eye of my Dark Master? I am carefully studying the device that I was given, to try and understand the source of its great power over men. I am yet at a loss as to how to open the protective layer around it and observe the internal workings. I am told that the devices cannot be opened or worked upon except by those specifically granted the right and power to do so. If this is so, then surely some secret of their evil rests within this device. One so powerful that it must be hidden from the world! I cannot ask my co-workers for help opening the device, for that would make Macintosh aware that I know their secret! I must do it alone, but carefully. It is most assured that they are monitoring their devices to find those who, like myself, have discovered the truth of the devices! Although, I am certain, few have even made it as far as I have. It is not the ordinary mind that can uncover so devious a plan, and an even more cunning one who can outmanuever his foe to never be caught spying! Soon I shall have gathered all the answers, and I shall crush or cow the mighty Macintosh Empire, and use its resources and dark powers to fuel the One True Dark King, Sauron!
I will report later on my findings. For now, be wary of those devices! Only one being may hold your cowering souls under his sway, bending before his might and radiance like reeds before a storm- Sauron is your master, not this upstart called "Jobs!"
Current Location: TwoTowers ISP Tech Office
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August 29th, 2006
10:17 pm - Orthank Sauron That's Over
The Most Illustrious Dark Lord and myself spent all of this day clearing out the old cellars of the Tower Orthanc. The current tenants discovered the basements and sub-basements his Darkness and myself had installed to support our growing horde. Before anyone asks how it went, just imagine:
This is the place where Orcs and Goblins toiled day in and day out, eating, sleeping and going to the bathroom there. They sweat. They bled. They bred. Just run that odorous, foul little thought over and over in your brain until it saturates it, and that was our day.
That is all for now, pathetic mortals!
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July 18th, 2006
03:07 pm - The Great Beard Battle Commenceth!
Today, the Most Noble Eighteenth of July, the Seventh month of the Year Two-Thousand and Six, is the commencing date of the first Hyde Parkian Great Beard Battle. It promises to be a daring and engaging fight, a test of true Manliness and Gentlemanly Bearditude.
Of course, as you can see from my picture, My most Mighty Beard is capable of taking all comers, but alas, to qualify, I must heed the same laws as my fellow contestants, which are that all contestants must shave upon the same hour of the same day, that all might begin their legendary growth from equal footing. Truly, what greater passions have Mankind than the test of Honour that is involved in a truly great Beard Battle? How better to display our manliness, our gentility, our natural charisma, and our rugged senses of style? What greater contest could there be on this Earth?
If you wish to gaze on in awe as this most glorious contest unfolds, you might witness its progress upon THE GREAT BEARD BATTLE SITE!!!
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May 14th, 2006
11:57 pm - Pathetic
What is with all this fuss about David Blaine? More like David Plain. Such parlor tricks could hardly match the power of myself or my Dark Lord. Submerging yourself in a vat of water? Fool. Fish do that daily, and not by choice, and you do not see their tiny little livers failing, do you? As soon as I am not working full double shifts down at the local filthy human-and-near-human watering hole, I shall deign to descend upon the quivering masses and deliver up such a feat of magic and power as the cause everyone present to wet themselves with fear and joy, simultaneously! And while you're at it, Blaine, why don't you see how hard it is to deal with insolent bar patrons without sleeping for 3 weeks, working in 16 hour shifts? Then you can come crawling to me and beg for the secrets of my craft, and even then, should I find you worthy of such an honor, your pathetic, mortal mind could encompass only the mearest fraction of my knowledge before your brain ruptured from the strain.
Haha. "David Plain". I should write a book. Not only am I Mighty and Wise, but I am Funny, as well! Once again, "Plain", you should be taking notes!
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March 29th, 2006
04:10 am - Thpppttt
Breaking character for just a second.
ARRRGH Why does posting something online with a message "please don't critique, the piece has already been critiqued by my fellow students and I am aware of all the problems in it, I just haven't fixed them yet" mean "ignore this and tell me everything I was already aware of!"
Stupid kids 2 years younger than me. Give 'em a paintbrush, stick 'em on DeviantArt and they think they're the world's foremost art critic. So his gallery has paintings in it? I don't particularly care for his work and if he was going to take the time out of his day to write to a perfect stranger about how my anatomy is off, or that I need a bigger brush, then he can take the time to read goddamn message right above where he's typing that says, in no uncertain terms, I GODDAMN KNOW ALREADY, YOU LOUSY PRICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Which is worse? That he was a turd ferguson, or that I can't seem to handle being critisized twice on something? I think the first one, since he's a perfect stranger, and I told him not to.
No offense to the british, but goddamn british teenagers with too much time on their hands. Go come up with some more catchy and ridiculous slang phrases and leave me alone!
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March 21st, 2006
10:46 pm - Trouble in the wastes
Oh I am about fed up with all of this!
While the Dark Lord and I have both come to terms with what life is going to be like now that he's been driven once again from His mighty physical form, a major obstacle still remains, as unscalable as it is inscrutable, which prevents us from living a quiet, uninterrupted life waiting patiently for the Dark Lord, the Forger of the melted piece of metal formerly known as the One Ring, to raise to power once again and crush those who opposed him under the sheer might of his power... but I digress. Wait, no I don't- YOU ALL WILL PERISH.
There. With that out of the way, I can continue to relate to you my problems, so that, when the day of your reckoning comes, you scant few who have paid heed to the ramblings of this old wizard may beg and plead, claiming to know the plight of my Master and myself, and you shall be rewarded, and you will be drowned in the marshes, rather than pecked to death by the crebain and eaten by lowly goblins, as the other sinvelling peasants would. I digress, once again.
My problem is thus- in order to afford one of the few dwellings not made of mud, reeds, or animal parts along the bordermarches of the Realms of Man, this dethroned wizard had to ensure that a source of income not dependant on that oily sludge the goblin's call mead and whatever it is I was feeding that army to make it stick around was coming into the household. His Darkness knows that those filthy bastards only stuck around as long as their was a squirming SOMETHING that they could eat. Therefore, with His Lordliness providing moral support, but unable to hold down a steady job due to His incorporeal nature, generally low public approval rating, and "weak ankles", your humble (but mighty and fearful!) wizard had to allow a third party to enter the homestead, supplementing the income with his job as a telemarketer. Our Lord justified allowing a Man within the house by pointing out, with His Great Wisdom, that only a telemarketer was his match for evil in these troublingly calm times. Grudgingly, I cowed under His perfect logic, and that is how we came to co-habitate with Josh.
I am uncertain as to whether or not Josh is truly aware of the natures of his flat-mates, despite my careful explanations before the signing of our lease that he was to be living with the former Lord of Mordor and his servant. In the face of this terrifying and powerful news, Josh has been nothing if not flippant with both myself and His Darkness. He is, perhaps, the most crass, insensitive and foolish being I have come across in this Middle Earth, and keep well in mind that this comes from a man who has spent far too long in the company of goblins, orcs and Wormtounge. Perhaps it would be easier to convey this in anecdotes.
In the beginning, things seemed to be going well enough. Understandably, His Dark Lord and I were wary of Josh, as we both knew the treachery that Men could bring, and Josh seemed to respect our distance, although in retrospect, this appears to have been simply because Josh felt the apartment beneath him and had better places to be. However, he did not fail to leave his mark upon our shared space. Having few rooms, the study became an important place of work for both myself and Josh. He and I set up everything that we each could possibly need in an office, and placed our desks and cabinets on other ends of the room. The room thusly appropriated, everything was well and good for a while, mostly because Josh did not spend any time in the apartment. One day, I returned after a long, hard trek to retrieve anything edible from anywhere but here, and discovered that Josh's desk (which was strategically located closer to the door than my own) had been turned sideways, effectively making an obstacle course out of a previously clear room. Furthermore, his cabinets had been turned to face the wall (drawers facing the wall). I shall elaborate on the glory of that, later. As bad as it seemed, it was merely adding insult to injury that he was rarely in the room to appreciate how he had restricted movement to my side of the room. It should be noted that, since His Dark Lord Sauron does not use a computer, he is rarely in the office, and does not share this private pain of mine.
When Josh is actually in the apartment, he has proven that he "needs" to have music playing at all times. From the moment he enters the room until the moment he leaves the room- and a lot of times far beyond that- the music is on at near maximum volume. Considering that the office room is adjacent to my quarters (but not My Dark Lord's), I am treated to a never ending chorus of cacophonious "emotional music" and other such blemishes upon the face of performers everywhere. Not only am I subjected to this while he is in the office, but all night long, and when he leaves the room, he much more often than not, forgets entirely to turn his music off, forcing me to breach that comfortable distance that had separated my Master and myself from this man, in order to covertly turn his volume down after the 4th consecutive spin through his "playlist."
Next ar his phonecalls. His communication with others being questionable, at best, falling far on the side of "faux ghetto pothead drunken slang", causes both myself and the Dark Lord Sauron to sit in confusion for many minutes, trying to fathom the depths of his "language." The phonecalls will come anytime, day or night, and his ringtones are very loud. That would be acceptable if he quickly answered the incoming calls, but the phone is usually left to sit and ring, before he at last deems it worthy to answer it, and so begins a stream of filth and headpains which does not lessen regardless of his proximity to the His Glorious Darkness asleep on the couch, or to myself, also on the phone, asleep, napping, or busy, as the case may be.
This dialogue continues however, and it happens to be reciprocated in kind, when he has callers who he brings back to the apartment. He now appears much more often, and at random times of the day or night, often with friends, jabbering, getting caught smoking indoors by the landlady (our building is made of wood, and is in a drier section of the Middle Earth, so smoking is a big problem during fire season), or partaking in mind-altering substances while throwing temper tantrums. This will carry on for however long it takes him to begin to listen to his music, then leave, having left the music on once again.
It should be noted that in these days of primitive plumbing and anachronistic computer usage, the former is incredibly difficult to manage, and it is only my magic and the power of my Lord that keeps the johns in this building functioning. Even with that mighty force, there are limits to the funcionality of any plumbing in the house. This, however, does not give anyone the right to not realize that the toilet requires a second or third flush to function properly, and it's just not nice to stay in the shower for half an hour to fourt-five minutes as much as twice a day.
Now, the land in which we live has many nearby buildings, and as a small city in it's own right, has suffered for years under a plauge of insects. Little do they know that, during the war, and even now, these creeping soldiers spy in His name, seeking out threats to His un-life, and terrorizing the populace. As our servants and minions, the roaches leave our apartment alone. Unfortuantely, the allure of food left out over a long period of time is far too much for their simple minds, and after a week spent with my associates in the Northern Lands with the Dark Lord, we returned to discover that food had been left out for several days. Sharing a distaste for having to clean up after someone else's mess, Lord Sauron and I left it where it was, and it was almost an entire week before it was moved. By that time, I had already witnessed a roach in the apartment, and though the problem has been rectified, it should not have happened at all.
Do you remember back to when I noted that Josh's cabinets faced the wrong way? When the weather was warmer, the heater was still on. Without realizing it, Josh had shoved the cabinets up against the heaters, so he was not aware that the reason he was so hot was because he had his heater turned on full blast. To rectify the situtation, he opened the window by my desk, which has no screen, allowing water, pollution and cold to get in, and my belongings to get out, and fall to the street below. Imagine the disaster if a citizen were to find one of my plans for the regrouping of the armies of Mordor. It would be a dark day for my Master and I.
Very well, I have rambled long enough. Such is the way of wizards. I shall retire now. Golden Girls is on.
Oh, and YOU WILL ALL SUFFER AND TREMBLE BENEATH THE MIGHT OF THE RING LORD!!!
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January 31st, 2006
12:19 am
Well, it has been a while since I have written anything for this Living Journal. I do mean to write more, I assure you, but, you see... it his His Divine Dark Lord.
It is just, well...
It is not that I do not appreciate His attentions and rewards for servitude, but His Lordship had me running FETCH QUESTS today. Fetch quests! I have not performed fetch quests since my years as an apprentice, back when I was Saruman of ONE Colour!
I understand perfectly that when one is reduced to a mere shell of His former self- Mighty though he remains- and then defeated once more on the very eve of His most Glorious Return, it does much, both to the form and to the psyche, but truly, the way to overcome should be to move on! All He does all day is sit in front of my television- for which I am paying for all those outrageous channels that comes with satellite, like the Songe Network. Why do we need the Sponge Network?- and watch, over and over again, that dreadful animated version of the exploits of His most hated foes. Of course it's not going to get any better if you watch it time after time! In the meantime, I had to venture all the way back into the Lands of Men (not easy when you are rightfully banished, and even the damnable trees try to rend you, limb from limb on sight!) and find the nearest 24-hour corner store (A commodity which we sorely lack in Mordor. Orcs have the business sense of a molding log, you see. And would it kill Him to let me know that we were out of orange juice before 12:30 at night?) and plunk down all of my remaining money on food to sustain His presence in the Realms, since the exchange rate is so bad between what the Orcs and Goblins use for currency (... fecal matter...) and gold.
If I wasn't the only remaining Loyal Servant of His Dark Lord Sauron, I would let His Dark Presence know- as politely as possible- that He needs to do something with His temporary Un-Life, or else leave. Unfortunately, there is no one else capable of supporting His Lordship. Technically, the goblins could take him in, I am sure, but I would not wish such a situation upon my worst enemies!
... I am only truly safe to say this because Our Dark Lord has no desire to learn how to use a computer. I dread the day he may (shudder) ask me to make him a website... the way things are going, it would primarily feature "dark poetry", bloody, dripping letters and a convoluted list of His personal Woes.
I should go, now. His Darkness wishes that I make him some cookies for tommorrow.
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January 3rd, 2006
02:16 pm - A Treatise on Why I Shant Purchase Prince Of Persia 3
... Or at least not do so for a good long while, such that the price goes down 15 American dollars, or it becomes relegated to the "Best-Selling Playstation Games Ev4r" section of the rack, and subsequently goes down 10 dollars in price- how does that even work?
The reasoning behind this quasi-boycott shall be best explained by way of two specific, yet allegorical examples, like so:
Specific, yet allegorical example 1-
Let us, allegorically, say that you are currently in possession of a large space station, fitted with a laser of such proportion that it might destroy an entire planet, given the appropriate trajectory and time to gather power. Now, assume that you have recently discovered that there are one butt-tonne of rebellious scalliwags gathering and being up to general no-good on a nearby planet. Let us call this planet, allegorically of course, "The Sands of Time", and the rebels shall be called, equally allegorically, "Time Powers."
Now that we have our exposition, you take two years, lets allegorically say that in this world, years are called "Prince of Persia Games", to discover that the rebellious "Time Powers" are useful, popular, and interesting, and eventually to grow tired of them and position your gimongous space station, hereafter known as the "Plot Device" in such a way as to destroy not only the planet Sands of Time, but the Time Powers that reside there. At the very end of the second Prince of Persia Game, you fire the Plot Device's cannon, destroying any and all trace of not only The Sands of Time, but all the Time Powers as well. They cannot be regenerated, as they are now allegorical space dust.
You go to bed that night, with the knowledge that you will never be troubled by Time Powers again, as you have wiped any proof of the existance of The Sands of Time from face of the universe. However, you awaken the next morning to discover, to your horror, that The Sands of Time is exactly where it had been yesterday, whole, and teeming with the same Time Powers that you thought were gone forever. Not only that, but the charge 50 bucks to get in. It will take you at least another Prince of Persia Game to reposition the Space Station Plot Device to destroy them again. Welcome to Allegorical Hell.
Specific, yet allegorical example 2-
You are currently earning your living as a house painter. Popular convention in this allegorical profession, which, in this allegorical world, is allegorically known as "Making Action Games", is that one should "Make an Action Game" using only a few choice colours, which have been standard since Making Action Games came into style. These allegorical colours include, but are not limited to the, allegorically named, "No Plot", "Sloppy Physics", "Gun Duels", "Angst", "Badasses" and "Sweet Killer Moves That Do Hella Damage".
As a house painter, or a "Maker of Action Games", you decide one day during your career that every single House, or allegorically, every single "Action Game" looks the same, because all the same colours have been used in every one. In order to change it up, in what you hope will be successful innovation, you use instead the allegorical colours of "Beautiful Scenery", "Intricate Levels", "Impressive Non-Combat Acrobatics", "Meaningful Story" and "Interesting New Idea of Interacting With the Environment Using Time Control". Your wildest prayers are answered, and the public loves it! Everyone wants to purchase an Action Game which has been painted (or "Made") by you! You are hailed as an innovative genius in the field of Making Action Games, and rake in the dough, as it were.
It comes time for you to design your second line of Action Game colour ideas. You have the option of experimenting with even more different colours, possibly even more variants off of the public's personal favorite colour, "Interesting New Idea of Interacting With the Environment Using Time Control".
Rather than take a risk like attempting innovation a second time in a row, you opt, instead, to continue with your exact same colours from last season, with the exception of your extra-safe precautionary measure of introducing some colours from the Making Action Games greats of the past. Your final pallet for the new season is decided at last and it is thus: "Same Old Time Control From Last Season, Made Less Important", "Less Beauty, More Angst", "Combat, Combat, Combat", "Less Story, More Angst", and you, at the last minute, decide to slip in the colour "Sweet Killer Moves That Do Hella Damage", but a shade of it which makes it look like it is a similar colour to "Intersting New Idea", plush a dash more "Angst". Your safety net pays off, and no one (important) notices the difference! Hooray you! You make just as much money this time around, and people anxiously await your third marvel! Those who did notice you were using old colours from your previous run and the old conventions quietly grumble and await your third season, as you promised at then end of your run to never use some of your colours again, and they pray that you come up with some new, innovative colours as a result.
It comes time for your third season, and, faced with the same choices, you decide to pretend that you never promised anyone you would retire some of your old colours, and instead use them all again! And even use some more of the colour "Angst" for good measure! People still eat it up! Dissenters still quietly grumble! Go you!
And there you have it. Now I'm going to shovel the walk, then probably play some more Shadow of the Colossus. EAT THAT, NAMELESS PRINCE!!
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December 17th, 2005
03:18 am - Anniversary Edict From His "Dark" Lord Sauron
My Great, Powerful, and Exaggeratedly Deceased Lord and Master, Sauron, has, of late, discovered through a powerful scrying tool known mysteriously as the "Ghu-gell Serge Enjine," that couples celebrating milestones of certain increments of time spent bound in matrimony exchange traditionally selected gifts varying in value and ritualistic significance. My Lord informs me that this list is an abomination in His Eye(s?), and that it is his Edict that they be immediately changed to reflect His eternal power over the land and His Immortal Pact with the souls of all His subjugated subjects. He has announced that, from this point forward, the following alterations will appear on the list of traditional Wedding Anniversary Gifts:
-Year One: "Paper" has been officially changed to "A bit of String"
-Year Two: "Cotton" shall be replaced with "A blurry Polaroid, taken personally"
-Year Three: "Leather" can stay the way it is. My Lord Dares anyone to defy this.
-Year Four: "Linen" shall be replaced by "Three Spoons", none of which may be from the same set.
-Year Five: "Wood" has been changed to "A Pointed Stick"
-Year Six: "Iron" has been decreed to be "An Pastry of Unusual Size"
-Year Seven: "Wool" shall be altered to "A Used Book"
-Year Eight: "Bronze" shall be changed to "Three Forks", of which, no two may match.
-Year Nine: "Pottery" may stay the same, but Tchochkes will be Highly Scowled upon.
-Year Ten: Our Lord is Amused that the gift for year Ten is "Tin". Therefore, "Liquor in a Novelty or Decorative Bottle" shall replace "Tin"
-Year Eleven: "Steel" reminds our Lord of weapons, therefore, "Three Cutlery Knives", all mismatched.
-Year Twelve: "Silk" has been changed to "A Garishly Coloured Shirt" such that might kill from 20 paces.
-Year Thirteen: To show His Disdain for "Lace," Our Lord has decreed that "Idiotically Cute Hummels" shall be exchanged, for the sheer purpose of laughing at them.
-Year Fourteen: "Ivory" shall be altered, since Sauron feels a certain Kinship with Elephants (because he never forgets losing the war to a pussy!), to "Fourteen Keys" which belong to unknown locks.
-Year Fifteen: "Crystal" shall be replaced by the convention of "A Tacky Lamp"
-Year 20: Because of Our Lord's unfortunate facial disfiguration, He feels deeply for the ridiculed Chinese. Therefore, year Twenty's "Chinaware" shall be replaced by "Non-denomonational dishes"
-Year 25: "Silver" can stay the way it is. DO NOT QUESTION HIS LORDSHIP!
-Year 30: As a result of his troubled upbringing, Our Lords Noble Tragic Flaw of a Phobia of Oysters -has cause him to change "Pearl" to "An Extraordinarily Comfy Chair"
-Year 35: Our Lord finds it relevant that "Coral" shall be replaced by "Something from the Eighties"
-Year 40: Lord Sauron does Appreciate fine Entertainment Craftsmanship. "Ruby" is replaced by "An Excellent Videogame Released Prior to 2000"
-Year 45: Lord Sauron got bored with coming up with Grand Edicts to replace the Precious Stones and Metals of the higher years, and has therefore dictated free reign in the Gem, Metal, or Meaningful Gift Department, so long as the Gift is presented with His Presence in mind, and without negative consderation of his Most Merciful Laziness.
These are His Edicts, passed down unto you, his subjugated subjects. Tremble at his wisdom and power! Truly, He is Divine!
... Also, Our Lord would like me to convey his wishes that you all "Fuck your Mothers Sideways through a Splintered Gloryhole coated with Chlamydia somewhere in the Deep South where you Belong, because He's Not Dead, you little Shitballs, and He's Coming To Get You."
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December 7th, 2005
04:52 am - A Sad, Sad, Sad Sad Sad Day... of many colours
Woe! My dearest companion and friend, more dear to me than any other (yes, that includes you, Dark Lord Sauron, you ingrate disembodied now-deceased eyeball of suckage) has departed the realms as we know them.
It seems that my Sega Saturn has slipped beyond this mortal coil, no longer able to muster up the strength to more than ask me the date before it slips back into its dark torpor. I knew I should't've allowed the goblins to play with it.
Despite my widely-known and bitterly enforced "political issues" with all Elvenkind, I plan to arrange special passage for my old friend on one of the White Ships sailing for the far-off Elven lands.
Godspeed, dear one!
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02:32 am - Man...
Losing war sucks!
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