We've got something a little bit different for you today. My friend Bailish and I have decided to do a little rant exchange. You can find mine amidst his own rants at Caveat Emperor, and here on HoF I'm ... proud? Terrified? I dunno, some emotion ... to bring you his latest burst of steam. Amazingly, it has nothing at all to do with gaming. <grin>
Summer Must be Destroyed
It seems everyone is destroying something these days, or leading a quest to destroy things. The sun, the earth, the moon, the republican
party... whatever useless hunk of matter is around the house really. But these are mostly things humanity needs to go on living. I mean, if it weren't for the republicans, we wouldn't have guns! And who's going to get us capital punishment back? The moon, that's who! But before my
vodka-sodden mind goes astray any farther, let me say this:
Let us destroy that which threatens the very fabric of humanity, the one thing we can survive without: Summer.
Oh, the Beach Boys loved it, the surfers love it, but does it really serve a purpose? Has not hydroponic farming shown us we no longer needs the baleful charring of the earth every year? Has not skin cancer evolved from a minor bother to a moderate irritant? Have not you, once in your life, raised your sun-addled head to the sky, wiped off a greasy mixture of sunblock, sweat, and aloe vera, glared into the sun's hateful rays, and screamed as you went temporarily blind? Damn right.
Summer is no longer a neccesity to the survival of the human species, but a doddering antique of our forefather's quaintly outdated vision of the farmer's almanac. Where it says "Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall", we think it should say "Winter, Spring, Skip Ahead, Fall". Let us leave behind your father's season. Let us throw off the bonds of an unjust yearly quarter. Let us avoid the entire charade of suntanning and public spankings! (available only on the slut-soaked beaches of Florida, your swamp & orange-loving skanks)
The process of summer is simple. The earth, drunken on it's own power and corn liquor, tilts uneasily while staggering in a loose oval around the sun. The result, other than hurling Austrailans into the cold reaches of space, is the changing of the seasons. As the earth tilts on it's axis, different parts of the world get the full cruel brunt of the sun, bringing about summer. Coincidentally, this is why when it's summer in Canada, it's winter in America... or someplace farther south, like Austrailia. I forget.
However, with a simple mass of enormous rocket boosters attached to something big and useless we don't mind burning to a crisp like the
Rocky Mountains, California, or one of those other Mexican states, we can *force* the alignment of earth back to where we want it, and where it should rightfully be. Perpetually winter, spring, fall. Nothing else. Or we could just give eternal summer to the Russkies, they're always bitching about how cold it is. Wussies. Us Canadians are as far north on the globe as those borscht-slurping freeloaders, and you never hear us whining about how "the wolves are eating the children" or "we must consume our own dead to survive". Just a bunch of fur-wearing nancy-lad baby-eaters. Heathens.
But now you're probably saying, "Whoa there Bailish," and not just because saying my name out loud is so damn sexy, "I think that besides growing crops and keeping those Floridian whores happy, there must be other reasons for the summer!"
Well, let's list a few.
Summer: (Pros, followed by Alternate Solutions)
P: Lots of chicks in bikinis.
P: Great chance to show off my awesome abs.
P: I get to make fun of pasty white guys who dress heavily in warm weather to conceal their not-me-ness.
P: I love waxing the boombox Honda and cruising for honeys with the
phat tunes cranked.
P: Where else can I get that bronze greek god/dess tan but at the beach, catchin' rays?
P: Okay, mad sportz can only be done in the summer. I rage on downhill mountain bike racing, white water rafting, inline skating, and various other eXtreme sportz.
P: I get to see all the phat summer blockbuster flicks, or get the lowdown on fresh new music that's hitting the charts this summer.
To summarize, summer is the season in which nothing worthwhile or good happens, so we're getting rid of it. We here at the Caveat Emperor civil defense shack in the remote alkali flats of western Canada are sick of having to bake in this heat, despite the many, many leaky air conditioners we having running 24 hours a day, even when we're cruising the sanddunes looking for lost neo-hippies to hunt for sport. The time has come to put our foot down and say "No!" to unwanted seasons! Caveat vs. Summer!! Who are you going to send money to?!
Addendum: To support the "Caveat Emperor Must Destroy Summer" project, please send cash, alchohol, white slaves, and porn to:
Caveat Emperor Civil Defense Shack
If you want to support Summer in this titanic battle of the minds, send money to the same address, we'll forward the cash to Summer, as per Geneva Conventions in a state of war situation. Promise.
This is but a small bitter taste of the bile of loathing that is Bailish. If you enjoyed this (and if you didn't, it's in your best interest to pretend that you did), make sure to stop by Caveat Emperor for more words of questionable wisdom. Even if you don't like games, you're guaranteed to laugh hard enough to squirt milk out of your nose. And hell, if that's not a selling point, I don't know what is.
AS: Go buy a porn mag. As an unforseen added bonus, you'll catch less
herpes frantically jerking off with a handful of chalomile lotion.
AS: There's a gay bar in your town, you just have to look harder. Be sure to request who can best introduce you to "male bonding" and "eXtreme watersports".
AS: Don't worry, someday that burgeoning need to compensate for strange and new urges will blossom into full-blown pedophilia or homosexuality or necrophilia... or some charming combination of the three.
AS: Hire a $20 prostitute, cause they're about as untouchable as women seduced by that $2,000 car mom bought for you, crank up the Snoop G Niggaz on the stereo, or whatever crap is passing itself off for trendy
hiphop" at the moment, and fuck her brains out, then don't ever call er
again. It's just as rewarding a relationship, with no uncomfortable surprise meeting at the block orgy next week.
AS: Go pay $30 for a suntan booth session. Invest heavily in suntan booth franchise chain stocks, as everyone else will be doing the same thing. There's less skin cancer found than at the beach, but more crabs encountered.
AS: If you weren't such a pussy, you'd be doing that in the winter too. Go suckle at mama's teat some more, nancy-lad.
AS: Yeah, real winners like Godzilla and Titanic. Here's a clue for all those sweaty-palmed morons who think a movie with great special effects, Shakespeare's name in the title, or a cheesy horror re-make creates a good movie: You're the reason I lobby for race sterilization. The same reason I slip doctor's a $20 to "accidentally" tie off a fallopian tube during tonsil extraction, or seal the testes during an appendicitus operation. You've got no fucking taste, and no fucking class. You're the reason I carry a gun in the hopes of finding the Backstreet Boys marooned on a lonely stretch of Highway 66. You're the reason people think Green Day is punk, or that acapella is a good thing, and that pop bands have skill. Which, as a looooong list of one-ride summer ponies clearly shows, THEY DON'T!!!
Remote Alkali Flats
Western Canada
