Christ Centered Gamer

I know it was a newspaper article. From The Times in London.

Doesn't mean it can't be borderline blasphemous.

It is true though.

I've heard at least one local news channel talk about his Christ-likeness.

Then again, I also read one that say's he'll be water walking after his acceptance speech.

Surely you don't believe everything you hear?

Also... comparisons like that are best not made, lest I compare McCain to Lucifer (which I DID NOT and HAVE NOT, mind you).

Not everything, but I do take note on which way conversations are shifting.

And tell them, not me. I see nothing but a slimy politician with a great smile.

Which is why... we need to spam this thread up again.

Proper political conversation/mockery shouldn't be taking place here.

Ahem.

I stood on the railing of the Hotel Depardieu and remembered the night and its wonders, the day and its horrors, the sad sights and eerie sounds and frighteningly tasteless summer dress of the local chapter of Fez Wearers, and I wondered how it could come to this and how I could stop it, but nothing came to mind. Forgetting myself was a hard thing, especially after the night had passed, and so I thought, remembered, and took a step off the balcony, wherein I found myself standing face to face with Robin Williams. The magical jester of foreign lands of comedy and Insomnia beckoned me forward and I fell and hit the ground running, for I was never gonna give her up, I was never gonna let her go, I was never gonna run away and desert her, and I wanted her to know that, and I wanted her to remember me for what I was, not for what I am, because what I am scares me, and I think I might be a cockroach. Or not. I can't really remember anything that happened prior to last week, but I know it involves two turtledoves, Jeff Goldblum and a snifter of Ron Burgundy. I cut that cheese well, didn't I, Ron, and I'll feed it to your son, Jose, because that's what friends do and that's what I'll do. It was in that very moment that he told her that he loved her, but he didn't, not really, he just thought she was real purty-like. Their weekend together ended with him lying on the beach, a shark biting his butt. He was dead, of course. No one ever survives shark bites on the butt, silly rabbit, Trix are for kids. Why am I eating them? I don't know how it happened, but Richard Dreyfuss was found later down the beach with a harpoon. A bloody harpoon. He might've hit the dude, but I don't think so, I don't think so, man, I think that it was more that he got a diver that he thought was a seal, but that might've been the shark, too, so Dreyfuss might still be hunting What About Bob. What about him?

Mind your own business.

"No killer tofu for you Jenkins!"

"The core provided me with seeds, not guns. I believe in passing fist through yur face dernit!!!"

"He who eats a summers day shall laugh as all has passed away!"

He wanted to know why she had been so sad, but it was the tragic dBeath of an interior decorator, you know, tragic like the death of a salesman, but not as sad and with fifty percent less AUrthur Miller, and by extension, Marilyn Monroe, and again by extension, Joe DiMaggio. And speaking of baseball, how is iGt that New York City is tearing down two different stadiums, both Yankee Stadium and Shea Stadium, and I haven't even gSraduated from high school, but they chose me, man, me, the Chosen One, the one who would bring about the end of thBe world, or at least, you know, bring a bunch of aliens with their emerald green Jackie Chan crap, because that's how theyU roll, that's how I roll, and maybe it would be the end of the world and maybe it wouldn't, and maybe that doesn't really mNatter anymore, oh, it matters, it matters because you want it to matter, 2012201220122012, no no no no, nononono, i cNan't see it anymore, I forgot my name, man, calmed me down with some orange slices. Orange slices. Not warm milk. WYhat kind of planet are they from, anyway? Ah, Bugs Bunny is invading my writing, what to do what to do what to do what to do, I know, I'll take an Advil, that'll get rid of the headache, but I don't have a headache, then why are you taking advil i don't know stop telling me what to do stop right now youre interrupting me interrupting is bad mama says because well its like a box of chocolates and boxesofchocolatesarealwaysgoodintheshorttermbutneverinthelongrunthinkofthecaloriesthinkofthecaloriesthinkofthecarbs....
And I just caught my breath, I'm sorry for that distraction, folks, sincerely sorry, sincerely Dave, Sincerely Holden Caulfield, I was only Chasing Amy this entire time, only playing as a Catcher in the Rye, I thought you were Saving Private Ryan, no no no, that's that Tom Hanks flick, you know, the one with Schindler's List in it, right right, the one about the Miracle at St. Anna's, right, no, wrong, the one about Defiance, argh, can't believe I didn't see that, hahahaha!

What. It's Spam.

No it isn't. Spam is delicious. That tastes of potato's burnt in a broiler and smells of chicken.

Stinky stinky chicken.

He was doing the Stinky Chicken Dance and wondered if anyone had thought of patenting it, copyrighting it, trademarking it, whatever you did with crazy smelly dances, and so he decided to do so himself. On the way to the copyright office, he fell through a hole in the ground. The hole was talking to him. Talking?! A hole? Yes. A hole. The whole hole was talking to him on the whole. Because it was a hole. That was the hole's whole excuse. Swears it? Completely and totally. With my whole heart. They get their money for nothing and their chicks for free. See... that aint working. You play the geetar on the mtv. MTV is canceling TRL. This is bad news, because it means that it's a music network that has an erroneous, fallacious name. Fallacious. It's a word that you'll need to look up. Or better yet, antitrinitarian. Some would call that heresy. I would probably call that heresy. Let's step away from such heady topics right now, because I'm in no state of mind to be discussing religigigious matters and my hold on reality is far more tenuous than previously believed. They called them brothers in arms. I called them garden gnomes sitting next to each other. Either way, they were fighting a war against the pink flamingos, and I was a casualty, a casualty in a senseless war started by the Keebler elves on the eve of their great conquest of Brisingr. Yes, that book is now out and all reports say it's as terrible as ever, if not worse. But you'll never know that, because I am just an aging drummer boy, in the wars that I used to play, and I have called on you for many a tortured session, and they say that I am a war criminal and that I'm fading away, Father, please hear my confession. Dire Straits are awesome. Too bad they broke up. That no account Mark Knopfler. What am I saying? I love Knopfler. The man was too big. He was too strong. Wrong! Wrong wrong wrong! Ever had a bad dream that set you to thinking that there was a race to get to the bathroom, and maybe, oh yes, you're about to win, but no, no you didn't, because a headless man is already sitting on the toilet, so you end up sitting on your bed for four hours with the bathroom light on because you really think that there's a headless duder on the toilet, but it turns out that you're just insanely feverish and delirious and crack everyone up when you tell that story? Why am I still telling that story? Stupid stupid stupid stupid. Wrong wrong wrong. It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again. Hello, Maurice. Maurice? Yes, Jodie. Maurice. Last second rewrites. Oh well. I won't be here for the prequel or the sequel; no skin off my back. Let's get that no account Julianne Moore to portray me, because she's such a good actress... no, that was sarcasm. I'm not endorsing her. Insanity makes me watch Teletubbies. These mist covered mountains are a home now for me. But my home is the lowlands, and always will be. Some day you'll return to me, your valleys and your farms, and you'll no longer burn to be brothers in arms. Through these fields of destruction, baptisms of fire, I've witnessed all your suffering, as the battle raged higher, and though they did hurt me so bad in the fear and alarm, you did not desert me, my brothers in arms. There's so many different worlds, so many different suns, and we have just one world, but we live in different ones. Now the sun's gone to hell, and the moon's riding high. Let me bid you farewell. Every man has to die, but it's written in the starlight, and every line on your palm, we're fools to make war on our brothers in arms.

What ^he said.

Except add in a chanting monk.

And now I have to go to the bathroom, but I'm afraid to look in there. This could get painful.

That thing about the bathroom... that was actually a delirium induced dream I had when I was about 13. The rest of those three posts are alternately movie references and song lyrics, spewed out from my braaaaaaain.

Still afraid.

Though I had a fever induced dream once where I would close my eyes and be in a Mario world with Mario, then open them and be watching TV.

I thought you were gone...

Ze walls of text...they melt mein eyes...