It seems I've never actually posted in these here blogs about anything magic related really. I always figured, what with having an entire friggin forum dedicated to that topic, that I could save this lil space for sharing with you guys my various hallucinations and nightmares. Rather than just filling this place up with more of the same crap you could find on the rest of the forums anyway.
So that being said, I have an important question for all you Magic: The Gathering players.
What is that stuff on you peoples hands that leaves black crap all over your card sleeves? And did you ever notice that it tends to be more prominent with bad players or players with a crappy collection?
What is it? Is it the visual representation of failure? Tiny black gooey dots of loss, collecting on the edges of your sticky,warped card sleeves? When your poor, does your sweat turn black and thick or something?
I mean, sure. I'd be lying if I said I "never" got a lil scum here and there on my cards. But were talking after like months of heavy play and just a few lil spots here and there.
I've seen some of these kids turn fresh out of the pack yellow sleeves into what looks like discarded browned banana peels after one FNM.
What the hell is that?! Do you people EVER wash your hands? Like even once a week? I could understand skipping a hand washing if it was just number 1, but that better not be literal **** you're handing me when you ask me to help you with your deck.
Even just like spit on your palm and wipe it on that clever lil family guy t-shirt you got there or something. At least make some effort to not cover me in your feces.
So MTGS community, before this blog gets drowned in a sea of crappy "pet decks". Tell me about your experience with filth.
There's a bowl full of tiny human heads. They're roughly the size of lemons, but are otherwise identical to your average human head and made of the same human skin you or I might have, with eyes, nose hair and teeth. At this moment their eyes and mouth are closed tightly.
You see a hand grab one of the tiny heads and strike the head against the side of an empty bowl, a crack is heard and we see the head's mouth and eyes open at once in what some might refer to as "fear", but this isn't necessarily fear, it's arguable whether or not these heads even still have emotion at this point.
The hands gently pull apart the skull from the crack that has formed in the back and we see the eyes sink back into the socket and eventually pour out the back of the cracked skull amongst brain and various other red fluids.
The empty "head shell" is disposed of in a bag and this repeats.
A mother walks into her sons room and the scene begins.
Mother sounds somewhat like Edith Bunker. Son sounds like cool devil may care stoned teenager.
Act 1: The Discovery
Mother: Oh my lord....what is that smell? You....you haven't been keeping your cool have you?
Son (wearing sunglasses and a popped collar): What do you mean "haven't been keeping my cool"? I'm always on top of my game!
Mother: You know exactly what I mean! You're keeping your cool in bags under the bed aren't you!
Act 2: The Revealing (A.k.A The Discovery)
Son: Why don't you just leave me alone mom!
The mother now somewhat entirely enraged, races to her sons bed and peeks under it only to find dozens upon dozens of bags filled to the top with cool
Mother: What's wrong with you?!?! I understand as a teenager that you need to keep your cool. But in bags!?? Bags under you bed mind you!
Mother: There's nothing sanitary about this! For god's sake this is the sort of thing serial killers do!
The son jumps out of bed and gives his mother a clean uppercut to the jaw, knocking her unconscious.
Son: WHAT WOULD YOU KNOW ABOUT GOD, MOTHER!!
THE END
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone! Gorge yourself in morbid tribute to those that were slaughtered. Pretend the meat you eat is their very own flesh. SNARL AS YOU BITE DOWN, EYES GLUED TO THE GAME.
And if you're gonna drive drunk, at least make yourself throw up a little before you get behind the wheel. It sorta clears your head a bit.
And don't worry about doing that in the bathroom, you can just go ahead and let it fly in the yard as you stumble towards the car.
I was taking a shower with a friend of mine early this evening and we were discussing how most boy bands or really pop bands in general usually have a kind of uniform, some kind of style or outfit that ties them all together as a band.
We thought to ourselves, how wonderful it would be if there was a boy band of 3 identical triplets all called John. They would each have matching hair styles and outfits so that they were nothing short of clones of eachother.
They would be called the Johns and each of them will be playing drums.
"Mom, there's Chocolate coming out the dog!!!!"
-Emily Hutterson 2004-2009
Don't let your child fall victim to feces. Every year over 3 children die of fecal consumption due to parents not educating their child about the dangers of feces.
Tell your child now about the vague difference between chocolate and dog feces. Show your child your own feces. Show your child the dog's feces. Show your child chocolate. Let THEM know the difference.
This has been a holiday reminder from OPERATION:BROWN OUT
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Current Mood: Heartburnt And Retoxicated
Current Music: Alestorm - Captain Morgan's Revenge