In honor of Starcraft 2: Advice from Kerrigan, Queen of Blades

"You need a plan for self-actualization, Girlfriend."

Love is Patient 

Dear Kerrigan,

My boyfriend and I have been together for three years. He can be very sweet, but he doesn't have a job and he spends every night playing video games. Whenever I ask him to spend time with me, he says he can't because it's raid night and he is the tank. I don't want to begrudge him the time he spends with his friends, but it seems like every night is raid night.

My mom says, if I love him and I am patient, he'll see what I'm worth and he'll change. But my friends say a man will never change, so I should either get used to it, or get out. What should I do?

Sincerely,
Konfused on Korhal

Kerrigan Sez:

Dear Konfused,

Your story reminds me of the time I fell in love with the acid-spewing canopy-crawlers of Forest-world VI. Whenever I tried to get close to them, they fired jets of hot bile at me and then went scampering off through the treetops. But I knew how to make them come around; I ordered my cerebrates to build a hive cluster, and then we systematically consumed all the organic life, until the entire planet was barren and covered with creep. We've since incorporated the genetic material of the canopy crawlers into our new banelings, and I just couldn't be happier.

The moral of the story is this: if you wait for a man to change, you'll be waiting forever, no matter how much you love him. You must force him to assimilate. Once you do, he will be compliant, although he will have a slightly increased tendency to explode.

But, whatever happens with your boyfriend, keep in mind that it won't matter in the long run. The Zerg are going to kill all of you anyway.

Keep the faith, Sister.
Kerrigan

Career Change 

Dear Kerrigan,

Since I was a young Protoss, I always wanted to be a Dragoon. As soon as I was of age, I applied to Dragoon school, and after seven years of rigorous training, I achieved my goal. I got everything I thought I wanted, and I've never been so unhappy.

Being a dragoon seems glamorous from a distance, but much of the day-to-day work is unpleasant and distasteful. And the recession has really pinched dragooning opportunities; there have been numerous rounds of layoffs in my company, and if they can cut the templars, nobody is safe. I've been having panic attacks.

I really want to leave my job and do something different, but I'm so heavily invested in my career. I have a lot of student debt, and I am also physically fused into the dragoon exoskeleton.

Is there a way to be happy doing what I'm doing? Is it crazy for me to consider a career change?

Sincerely,
My Life For Aiur

Kerrigan Sez:

Dear Aiur,

The solution to your problem is the same as the solution to most other problems: the Swarm. We have experienced professional zerglings on call 24/7 to quickly dismantle your exoskeleton. We also offer the fastest retraining program in the galaxy, available to you at no charge. You won't believe how quickly you'll be put to use serving the Swarm!

And you'll have my guarantee that once you make the decision to walk into a hive of Zerg, you'll never again have to worry about your student loans or your career prospects again.

Remember: The Zerg are just here to help.

Kisses,
Kerrigan

If it comes down to this or more time on your game-card...

My novel, "Don't Ever Get Old" has been acquired by Thomas Dunne Books/St. Martin's Press.  It will be out in hardcover in early 2012, which means the ETA is slightly sooner than the much-needed nerf to overpowered Terrans.

I know you were planning to get a paid name/race change so your Blood Elf paladin Legoluls could become a Worgen named Lolteamjacob, but I think you should stick with the Horde and set the money aside to by my book in hardcover.

Behind the scenes at Blizzard Studios

Lead Designer: Hey, are you busy?

Artist: I got time. What's up?

Lead Designer: We need you to work on something for us. A character model It's kind of important.

Artist: All right.

Lead Designer: We're putting a lot of trust in you, to give you this assignment.

Artist: I'll try not to disappoint you.

Lead Designer: That's not even an option. We're up against deadlines. Can you handle major responsibility on this project?

Artist: I'm ready.

Lead Designer: Okay. I need you to make us a catdog.

Artist: A what? A hot dog?

Lead Designer: A catdog. Half cat. Half dog. But more badass. Like, half lion, half wolf.

Artist: Are you fucking with me here?

Lead Designer: If you're not up to the task, I can give it to somebody else.

Artist: You're serious?

Lead Designer: Have you read Tirion Fordring's dialog? I wrote that. I basically have no sense of humor.

Artist: You need a very important...

Lead Designer: Catdog. This is the cat form for Worgen druid player characters. The players spend hundreds of hours looking at these models. There's no art asset in the game that's more important.

Artist: Half Cat, Half Dog?

Lead Designer: More like half dog, half cat. Maybe, like, a 60/40 split. And badass. Don't forget to make it badass.

Artist: I'll try to figure out how to make that work.

Lead Designer: Do or do not. There is no try.

Artist: Right.

Lead Designer: Your boss told us you were the man for this job. Very high praise, you know. That guy is a legend. He invented the Bearcow.

"As a werewolf-catman, I am full of contradictions"

A Guy Walks into a Psychiatrist's office...

Therapist: What brings here today, Mr.—

Kologarn: KOLOGARN.

Therapist: Right. What brings you here, Mr. Kologarn?

Kologarn: LAST WEEK, I FELT A TIGHTNESS IN MY CHEST. LIKE SOMETHING WAS SQUEEZING THE LIFE OUT OF ME. I HAD TO LIE DOWN. MY REGULAR DOCTOR SAYS NOTHING IS PHYSICALLY WRONG WITH ME.

Therapist: He thinks you might be suffering from panic attacks.

Kologarn: THAT GUY IS A JACKASS. I ONLY GO TO HIM BECAUSE HE IS IN-NETWORK.

Therapist: All the same, I think we should talk about what is going on in your life and maybe we can find a cause for your problems.

Kologarn: UNNECESSARY.

Therapist: Well. Why don’t you humor me? Tell me about your work. When you made the appointment, you told my assistant that you work as, uh, a raid boss in a chasm in Ulduar?

Kologarn: I STAND IN IT.

Therapist: Now I understand that your job is to defeat armies of adventurers who come to loot the ancient sanctum of the Old God Yogg Saron. What does that entail?

Kologarn: THE USUAL. OVERHEAD SMASH. FOCUSED EYEBEAMS. PETRIFYING BREATH. STONE GRIP. RINSE. REPEAT.

Therapist: And this fulfills you?

Kologarn: …

Therapist: You haven’t been satisfied with your career?

Kologarn: THINGS HAVE DRIED UP A LITTLE, LATELY.

Therapist: There haven’t been as many raiders, have there?

Kologarn: THEY NO LONGER COME.

Therapist: It hurts to feel abandoned.

Kologarn: …

Therapist: It’s okay for us to admit we hurt. There’s no shame in it.

Kologarn: ONLY A FLESH WOUND.

Therapist: Okay. And how are your relationships with co-workers?

Kologarn: …

Therapist: It’s difficult, isn’t it? Not having a hard mode?

Kologarn: NOBODY SAYS ANYTHING. BUT I KNOW WHAT THEY’RE ALL THINKING.

Therapist: And how do you feel when your peers treat you with condescension?

Kologarn: …

Therapist: This is a safe space. I promise you. I want you to feel you can trust me. What passes between us stays right here. That door is an inviolable barrier. None shall pass, Mr. Kologarn. None shall pass.

Kologarn: …

Therapist: Do you trust me?

Kologarn: I GUESS.

Therapist: So why have you come here today, Mr. Kologarn?

Kologarn: …

Therapist: It’s okay to talk about your feelings.

Kologarn: …

Therapist: I am ready to listen. I am prepared to hear you.

Kologarn: ...

Therapist: …

Kologarn: I AM VERY SAD.

Therapist: I’m proud of you, Mr. Kologarn. We’ve made a lot of progress today.

In honor of Red Dead Redemption

How dreadfully embarrassing! I seem to have misinterpreted your gracious invitation, for I have arrived at this event with accouterments completely inappropriate for the afternoon’s planned activities. What an unfortunate faux pas. I certainly have egg on my face, don’t I? I wonder if any of the other attendees might have spare equipment which they could loan to a poor, embarrassed bungler. They do not? Perhaps we could reschedule?

I think, under the circumstances, this comic little misunderstanding was reasonable, and I hope it can be easily resolved. You see, the other day in the saloon, when you and I were both quite tipsy from the barkeep’s fine moonshine whiskey, and we were amorously eyeing the same twenty-five cent harlot. As an object of lust, she wasn’t terribly compelling, but there was a real fire to her spirit, once you looked past her lazy eye and her missing teeth and those strange, oozy yellow-green sores. And, as both of us found our entertainment options limited by the influence of the current macroeconomic tumult upon our personal finances, and since neither of us was in a patient mood, the question of who might have the first roll with her became a topic of some dispute.

As discussions became heated, I called you a dust-sucking sheep rapist, and you intimated that I was a worn-out drunk with a tendency to crawl upon my yellow belly. I expressed my belief that your cross-eyed mother must have been kicked in the belly by a mule to produce offspring as deformed and stupid as yourself. You claimed that my horse looked mangy and accused me of feeding it improperly and neglecting its grooming. Then you spat a thick brown liquid upon the floor, and I spat the juice from my own terbaccky chaw upon your newly-shined boots. You took grave offense.

At that point, negotiations broke down.

Ever helpful, I suggested that the dispute might be satisfactorily resolved were we to make something of it. To illustrate the point, I smashed a whiskey bottle on the bar, and menaced you with its jagged edge. Initially, you seemed amenable to exploring such mechanisms to satisfy our disagreement. However, you felt that the timing was inopportune for such activities; it was more to your convenience to reconvene today, at high-noon. I found I was available, and we made our date.

Based on the tone and context of our previous exchange, I had believed that you had invited me here for purposes of engaging in barroom brawling and fisticuffs, and I came equipped with this here Bowie knife, and a vague plan that I might jam it into your kidneys. Or, you know, cut your throat, or stab you in the eye. But you can imagine my surprise to learn that you had actually intended to invite me to duel with pistols. And here I am, without my sidearm or bandolier.

So, we’re left with a conundrum. If someone would be so kind as to lend me a reliable pistol, I would be happy to shoot you at ten paces. Alternatively, if you’d like to come over here, I’ll stick this knife into your guts. Or we can take a rain check. It’s really up to you.

What's up?

Here's an article I wrote for The Big Jewel:

http://www.thebigjewel.com/business-school-prepared-me-to-be-the-final-boss-of-a-video-game/

Here's a link to a blog I made for writing-related stuff:

http://somethingpersuasive.blogspot.com/

Also, I now have a literary agent, so I will let anyone who still keeps an eye on this know when I get a book deal.

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.

KANYE: OMG! I'M SOOOO SORRY.

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

KANYE: I JUST TALKED TO ANTONY'S MOTHER AND SHE SAID THE SAME THING MY MOTHER WOULD HAVE SAID.

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

JOE WILSON: You lie!

ANTONY: For Brutus is an honourable man;

JOE WILSON: YOU.

ANTONY: So are they all, all honourable men -

JOE WILSON: LIE.

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

KANYE: BOOOYAAAWWWW!!!