Hey fuck you, I get bored easy.
So yeah, uhhhh. cataclysm came out. Maybe I should go over that a bit, but I was also thinking about some other stuff. What Obama's been up to lately, namely. Oh and that damned third horseman of the apocalypse, Pestilence has been popping up going by his new name 'Holidays'. And what the fuck? This just in: I think I'm being a little cynical as of late. Hey, whatcha gonna do?
So. Cataclysm. Love/Hate. Same old same old. Stereotypical stable-server expansion release. All shine, no shit. Give it a go. The experience is solid. But hey, still a TON of people trying to do it all at once. Good luck leveling a crafting profession. Can drive a man to drinkin'.
Right. Obama. My good buddy El Presidente. Fuckin' nutter. Smart guy, dashing too. Complete nutter. I don't have the energy to do any research or outlining so you'll have to take this one on faith. It seems to me...that this guy, is a little too comfortable in his big chair to realize that it's being held up not by polished wooden legs, but by the masses of laborers still clinging to his 'HOPE' campaign posters. Sad when one realizes that what is likely to be the most important job position in the known world, could be run by any man from the working class with an IQ over 100. These private school bitches have got to stop running for office. Hey, woah. Hey, woah. Didn't I go to private school? Oh yeah, until I was given the choice to LEAVE. Good God, am I glad I left.
The Holidays. That delightful little Euphemism that leaves the kind-hearted gasping for air, as their heart size grows and their lung space diminishes. As for the rest of us cynical bastards,we,-again, euphemism-heart-no-oxygen,-appointed 'scrooges', have already taken a squared stance and begun our meditational breathing, ready to spout fire onto whatever religious, traditional, or new-age bullshit our closest friends and family have to toss at us in desperate attempts to convert us to their 'festivities' and 'good spirit'. What fun. The mad dash for whatever enlightenment that people find in shopping has long since begun. Even with the first delicate droppings of that feathery fine dandruff-like substance I find myself in shock that there is still milk on the grocery store shelves and that I am blessed with the electricity to tap away at the keyboard. That is, until some light-headed malnourished waterhead teenager manages to swerve a little too close to the middle of the road and upon pulling back too hard in the other direction, slams into a single pole, and wipes out half the eastern seaboard.
I think the effects of late-night sleeplessness and the giddy feeling of sobriety have had a very persuasive part in this article, and without further ado, I will head off to dream of the vague things that dance through our minds this time of year. Faceless women and featureless hundred dollar bills, as it usually is. Grab a blanket, snuggle close to that special someone, and pray things don't get awkward. Until next time.
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