You got chocolate in my peanut butter.

Look, kids!  It's Loot Reaver!

This asshole better drop my shoulders.

Roleplaying is one of the easiest things to get into but one of the hardest hobbies to truly master.  No, I’m not talking about putting on your robe and wizard hat and going to town, and I’m not referring to putting a bunch of randomly generated numbers together and using either real or virtual dice rolls to hit monsters until candy comes out; I’m instead talking about actually pretending to be someone else in a collective storytelling environment.

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Things happen for a reason.

At least I went down swinging.

Last thing I saw before I got the shit beaten out of me.

To me, the universe is an incredible place, filled with mysteries just waiting to be uncovered, but I don’t attribute any sort of supernatural source to it.  I’ve said before that I’m not the kind of person that’s going to sit here and tell you that there’s some Grand Design for all of us.  The idea of a sentient force at work and pulling the strings, meting out punishment to the wicked and rewarding the righteous, makes me kind of twitch and gag at the absurdity of it all (at least in my opinion – I’m not about to sit here and call you a credulous idiot for believing in the equivalent of an imaginary friend), but sometimes things in my life align in such a way that they can be awe-inspiring… even to an old curmudgeon like me.

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Everybody relax; I’m alive.

Sorry I missed Monday’s post, folks!  Didn’t get back from Legacy until quite late last night, so I pretty much went straight to bed.

I had an amazing time, and a full report will come once I’m conscious and not ready to drop from sheer exhaustion.  In the meantime, enjoy what’s got to be one of the best covers of a Jackie Wilson song ever – by one of the most badass men to come out of France since Charles de Gaulle – and is an accurate representation of how the weekend left me feeling, even with all the weariness.

Now I can’t embed it, as WordPress doesn’t seem to get along with the site, but just click here to see it.  And turn up your volume.  It’s worth it.

My spirit animal runs into plate glass windows and shits on my car.

It better not be "42."

Dammit, Blockatiel!

I’m not what you would refer to as the kind of person that really identifies with the concept of air as an element.  I’m not saying that I particularly believe in all that  New Age alchemical bullshit, but I’m the kind of guy that identifies more with being down-to-earth than anything else.  Hell, even my birth sign is an earth sign, not that I particularly ascribe to the Zodiac as some kind of authority, but for some reason I’ve got this thing with birds.

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