Thursday, September 17, 2009

Kanye Grabs The Mic!

ANTONY: Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Caesar.

KANYE: Yo, 'scuse me, Antony, I'm just gonna grab hold of the mic for a second if it's okay with you.

ANTONY: Well, I'm kind of trying to do something here, dude.

KANYE: Don't worry. It's cool.

ANTONY: No it's not. It isn't cool at all. I'm delivering my eulogy. This is kind of a big dramatic moment for me.

KANYE: And I'm really happy for you, Antony. I'm going to let you finish, but I want to talk for a minute about my boy, Marcus Brutus.

ANTONY: The noble Brutus
Hath told you -

KANYE: My man Brutus had one of the best assassinations of all time. One of the best assassinations. Of all time.

ANTONY: Uh, Brutus hath told you
Caesar was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it.


ANTONY: Are we seriously-is this what we're doing now?


ANTONY: Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest -

JOE WILSON: You lie!

ANTONY: For Brutus is an honourable man;


ANTONY: So are they all, all honourable men -


ANTONY: Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me.


Sunday, September 13, 2009

I need some help with my pants.

Original Thread

To whom it may concern:

Recently, I took part in some rather dashing and valiant heroics in the Argent Coliseum, and as a reward for my bravery, my guild awarded me Kel'Thuzad's Leggings of Triumph.

At first, I was very pleased about getting the loot, but after that initial surge of excitement wore off, I realized that I just can't wear these. The problem, you see, is the smell.

Now, I know Kel'Thuzad was a pretty great warlock, and he wore some pretty great warlocking pants. The stats on these are pretty awesome, and normally I'd feel very fortunate for a chance to wrap my goodies up in 140 spellpower. But these things are, to put it mildly, rank.

I don't know if Kel'Thuzad was too busy exploring the arcane depths of necromancy to pay attention to his personal hygiene or what. I know he was dead for a while. Maybe he was buried in these.

Sometimes, I think they reek of vinegary man-sweat. Sometimes I think they smell like rotting meat. What I know is that these things are just foul.

I do know that the folks at the laundry won't take them. I took them back to the vendor five minutes after I got them, and the crooked little jerk insisted my two hour refund period was already expired.

I don't know what kind of crap Tirion is trying to pull here, handing out used and soiled pants as a reward for killing demon lords and high-ranking lieutenants of the Lich King, but I've had about enough of this. Tell Tirion I am not pleased to be getting epic rewards that come complete with Kel'Thuzad's Skidmarks of Triumph, along with several other disturbing looking stains of indeterminate origin.

Heroes of the Alliance deserve better treatment.

Saturday, September 12, 2009


Original Thread:


Elder Walrus: "Hi. I'm a walrus. We're the good guys. I promise."

Player: "Okay."

Walrus: "There are some guys we don't like. Their village is up on that hill."

Player: "Okay."

Walrus: "So I've got this sack right here."

Player: "I see."

Walrus: "What you are going to do is take this sack over to their village and fill it with their babies. As many babies as you can steal, just go ahead and stuff them in this sack."

Player: "Uh, what?"

Walrus: "Sack full of babies. Bring me a sack full of babies. Like, a dozen."

Player: "I don't know how comfortable I feel doing this."

Walrus: "By the way, the guys we don't like are dog guys, so the babies you're stuffing in a sack are also puppies."

Player: "Seriously?"

Walrus: "Yeah. We're planning for the future. We're raising them to be seeing-eye babies for blind walruses. It's totally charitable."

Player: "But I don't see any of them running around Walrus-town."

Walrus: "Dude. Don't worry. We're totally not going to eat the babies. Do I look like a guy who would eat a baby?"

Player: "I didn't say anything about eating them."

Walrus: "Right. That is crazy-talk. But if you want to come back tomorrow around lunchtime and swipe us another sackful, that would be awesome."

Friday, September 11, 2009

I am a BG PvPer

Original Thread:

I've capped my honor and my marks, but don't worry, buddy, I am still here, standing in the road between Blacksmith and Gold Mine in Arathi Basin, fearlessly clutching my Titansteel Destroyer, and getting ready to bring the thunder. Don't worry, though. I won't Hamstring you as you run by on your mount. I don't even have Hamstring on my click bar, because it doesn't do any damage.

I am the hardcore BGer. When the other side holds every graveyard up to our relief hut in Alterac Valley, my friends and I will bellow our battle cries and defend the keep until the game ends in a resource victory. Did you know AV used to take DAYS to finish a match? It was GLORIOUS. If I could make it take days now, I totally would, because time has no meaning to me. It stops when I am charging into a crowd of enemy players to rack up my 24th death of the match.

Don't fuss at me that the gate is down in Isle of Conquest. I am engaged in epic battle in the quarry with a foolish warlock who was impudent enough to go AFK. My victory here was preordained, and the fact that the enemy has assaulted our keep will do little to diminish my glory when I triumphantly spam my /sit macro over his corpse.

I am a vessel of wrath and a deliverer of truth. I care not for Strand Demolishers, for I know the only honorable vehicle is a Wintergrasp Catapult. I need no honor and I scoff at marks. I can't buy anything anyway, because I will not duel in a box for gear. I should get gear for my deeds on the field of Battlegrounds, without having to prove anything to any arena scrubs.

The game has gotten worse, lately, for hardcore BGers like me. The reduced resources required for victory mean that I get less time in each battle to control the vital roads of Arathi Basin, or battle valiantly for the flag in Eye of the Storm. In Warsong Gulch, where flags matter less than in Eye, a new time limit has curtailed the joyful midfield heroics I love undertaking as the cowardly flag carriers hide in their bases.

But, despite these setbacks, I will persevere. As I've honed my skills, my teams have begun winning as many as one game in six, a vast improvement over prior performance. When other players see that I am on their side, they groan and mutter under their breath, because they know that, in this battle, their deeds will be overshadowed, for they walk with a titan (I specced into Titan's Grip, even though I don't have a second 2H yet).

They will never match my boldness. They will never match my ferocity. They will never match my dogged sense of purpose. I don't stop to gem my sockets. I don't stop to enchant my gear. I am a killing machine with only one setting, and that setting is kill.