tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22569067489109406282011-08-28T17:33:46.361-07:00The tortured ravens consume my prepubescent soul, and my bangs are out to HERE man! Naw just kidding, I'm some sexy fanboy dude that actually knows how to write. Sort of. My bangs are pretty sweet though.Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.comBlogger311100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-41470254844725175552009-06-12T22:36:00.001-07:002009-06-12T22:36:58.758-07:00I don't feel like looking for free hosting, so here you go:<div>(also apologies if you came here looking for a blog, so sorry to have offended you)</div><div><br /></div><div><div>12:08 dramthevirgin: Ordinary Friends</div><div>12:08 mike_brady: Little Friend of Horrors</div><div>12:08 Sean_Mc: The Friend of Anne Frank</div><div>12:08 dramthevirgin: They call her "One Friend"</div><div>12:08 SpringHeeledJak: Battlestar Friends</div><div>12:08 singa: Did we do "Frienday the 13th"?</div><div>12:08 menchi: Marty it's about your friends Marty</div><div>12:08 dramthevirgin: FrankenFriend</div><div>12:08 mike_brady: Machine Friend</div><div>12:08 SpringHeeledJak: Yeah we did Singa</div><div>12:09 menchi: Tokyo Blood Friends</div><div>12:09 mike_brady: is it just me or does the word "friend" look stranger and stranger as we go on?</div><div>12:09 dramthevirgin: same</div><div>12:09 mike_brady: Fried Green Friends</div><div>12:09 SpringHeeledJak: "The Friends are strong with this one."</div><div>12:09 Sean_Mc: Friends vs Predator</div><div>12:09 Sean_Mc: yes</div><div>12:09 dramthevirgin: Green Friends And Ham</div><div>12:09 SpringHeeledJak: YES</div><div>12:09 singa: Anytime I look at a word too much it looks weird</div><div>12:09 menchi: yeah it does</div><div>12:09 dramthevirgin: The Grinch who stole Friends</div><div>12:09 mike_brady: Friend Club</div><div>12:09 singa: 10,000 Friends of Dr. T</div><div>12:09 mike_brady: The Friend Machine</div><div>12:09 SpringHeeledJak: The Friensd hear a Who.</div><div>12:09 mike_brady: Planet of the Friends</div><div>12:09 dramthevirgin: Rambo: Friend Blood</div><div>12:09 menchi: How to Lose a Friend in 10 Days</div><div>12:10 dramthevirgin: did it</div><div>12:10 singa: Friendless</div><div>12:10 mike_brady: Look Who's Friending</div><div>12:10 mike_brady: Friends and Hooch</div><div>12:10 SpringHeeledJak: Thelma and Friends</div><div>12:10 menchi: True Friends</div><div>12:10 dramthevirgin: Green Friends</div><div>12:10 singa: All in the Friends</div><div>12:10 mike_brady: Family Friend</div><div>12:10 menchi: or Fiend Lies</div><div>12:10 Sean_Mc: Pee-Wee's Big Friend</div><div>12:10 dramthevirgin: CSFriends</div><div>12:10 dramthevirgin: Miami</div><div>12:10 mike_brady: Dances with Friends</div><div>12:10 mike_brady: LOL@Sean</div><div>12:10 singa: Friends &amp; Order</div><div>12:11 SpringHeeledJak: Throw Friends from the Train.</div><div>12:11 dramthevirgin: Friendlight</div><div>12:11 menchi: Doctor Friend</div><div>12:11 singa: LOL SHJ</div><div>12:11 Sean_Mc: SHJ :-D</div><div>12:11 mike_brady: My Friend Vinny</div><div>12:11 dramthevirgin: nice</div><div>12:11 Sean_Mc: Texas Friend Massacre</div><div>12:11 mike_brady: Driving Miss Friendly</div><div>12:11 SpringHeeledJak: The Friend from the Black Lagoon</div><div>12:11 menchi: Don't tell Mom the Friend is Dead</div><div>12:11 singa: Beauty and the Friend</div><div>12:11 dramthevirgin: Gay Friends from space</div><div>12:11 mike_brady: lol menchi</div><div>12:11 SpringHeeledJak: or Friends and the Beast</div><div>12:12 singa: That, too, SHJ</div><div>12:12 mike_brady: Friends of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Friend</div><div>12:12 SpringHeeledJak: 101 Frinds</div><div>12:12 dramthevirgin: Machine Friend</div><div>12:12 menchi: SerialFreind</div><div>12:12 Sean_Mc: The Friend's Guide To The Galaxy</div><div>12:12 SpringHeeledJak: LOL mike</div><div>12:12 singa: Friend 9 from Outer Space</div><div>12:12 singa: The Red Friend</div><div>12:12 SpringHeeledJak: and LOL singa</div><div>12:12 mike_brady: What About Friends?</div><div>12:12 dramthevirgin: Friends in Black</div><div>12:12 mike_brady: Groundhog Friend</div><div>12:12 SpringHeeledJak: Jurassic Friend</div><div>12:13 menchi: Hunt for the Friend October</div><div>12:13 Sean_Mc: Die Friend</div><div>12:13 dramthevirgin: Must love Friends</div><div>12:13 singa: Men in Friends</div><div>12:13 dramthevirgin: The Friend Commandments</div><div>12:13 menchi: Friend and Out</div><div>12:13 SpringHeeledJak: The Greatest Friend Ever Told</div><div>12:13 Sean_Mc: The Friendlot</div><div>12:13 menchi: Friends in Black</div><div>12:13 dramthevirgin: NICE</div><div>12:13 mike_brady: The Neverending Friend</div><div>12:13 menchi: Predafriend</div><div>12:13 dramthevirgin: The Princess Friend</div><div>12:13 singa: I did that one, Mike</div><div>12:13 dramthevirgin: AVFriends</div><div>12:14 SpringHeeledJak: The Friend Cemetary</div><div>12:14 mike_brady: they're coming so fast I can't keep up</div><div>12:14 mike_brady: #TAD</div><div>12:14 dramthevirgin: The Adams Friends</div><div>12:14 SpringHeeledJak: is anyone savign this...madness?</div><div>12:14 dramthevirgin: no</div><div>12:14 dramthevirgin: we need arcys</div><div>12:14 singa: Have to put these on the site somewhere...</div><div>12:14 menchi: Friends of Thinder</div><div>12:14 SpringHeeledJak: The Friend in the Willows</div><div>12:14 menchi: Top Friend</div><div>12:14 dramthevirgin: Minority Friend</div><div>12:14 menchi: Lord of the Friends</div><div>12:15 SpringHeeledJak: Risky Friends</div><div>12:15 mike_brady: The Friends and the Furious</div><div>12:15 singa: Friendelot</div><div>12:15 Sean_Mc: Friend Hard: The Friend Cox Story</div><div>12:15 menchi: Friends Attack</div><div>12:15 mike_brady: The Italian Friend</div><div>12:15 menchi: War of the Friends</div><div>12:15 SpringHeeledJak: Friend the Line</div><div>12:15 mike_brady: Under the Tuscan Friend</div><div>12:15 SpringHeeledJak: The Friend Snatchers</div><div>12:15 dramthevirgin: Triple Friend</div><div>12:15 singa: Ferris Bueler's Friend Off</div><div>12:15 menchi: Anchorfriend</div><div>12:15 dramthevirgin: 28 Friends Later</div><div>12:15 SpringHeeledJak: Friending Arizona</div><div>12:16 menchi: the Full Nine Friends</div><div>12:16 dramthevirgin: Chasing Friend</div><div>12:16 dramthevirgin: Friend of Dreams</div><div>12:16 mike_brady: Friend and Deliver</div><div>12:16 SpringHeeledJak: The Freidn Monty</div><div>12:16 dramthevirgin: Friends in the Outfield</div><div>12:16 singa: Top Friend</div><div>12:16 dramthevirgin: The green Friend</div><div>12:16 SpringHeeledJak: Field of Friends</div><div>12:16 singa: Hot Friend, or Friend Fuzz</div><div>12:16 mike_brady: Friend, Interrupted</div><div>12:16 dramthevirgin: Forest Friend</div><div>12:16 singa: Friend of Dreams</div><div>12:16 dramthevirgin: Friendzaam</div><div>12:17 mike_brady: Friend: Pig in the City</div><div>12:17 SpringHeeledJak: Friends 2, the next course</div><div>12:17 singa: Friend on the River Kwai</div><div>12:17 menchi: Friending Forrester, Your the Friend now Dog</div><div>12:17 Sean_Mc: A Friend In The Sun</div><div>12:17 singa: Friendspray</div><div>12:17 menchi: Friendzilla</div><div>12:17 dramthevirgin: Friend Models</div><div>12:17 mike_brady: better than A Raisin in the Friend</div><div>12:18 SpringHeeledJak: The Friend Purple</div><div>12:18 singa: Or the original Japanese: Friendjira</div><div>12:18 Sean_Mc: El Amigo (Mariachi)</div><div>12:18 dramthevirgin: Friendzilla Vs. Robofriendzilla</div><div>12:18 menchi: The Color Friend</div><div>12:18 singa: Purple Friend of Cairo</div><div>12:18 SpringHeeledJak: LOL dram</div><div>12:18 SpringHeeledJak: The Maltese Friend</div><div>12:18 menchi: THAT'S MECHAFRIENDZILLA</div><div>12:18 mike_brady: Friend Academy 4: Citizens on Friends</div><div>12:19 menchi: They Might Be Friends</div><div>12:19 singa: or just Citizen Friend</div><div>12:19 mike_brady: Friend Hard 2: Friend Harder</div><div>12:19 dramthevirgin: Ricky Oh: The story of Friendship</div><div>12:19 SpringHeeledJak: Friendbreak</div><div>12:19 Sean_Mc: Any Which Friend You Can</div><div>12:19 dramthevirgin: FriendBreakable</div><div>12:19 SpringHeeledJak: The friend and the Hound</div><div>12:19 singa: LOL @ SEan</div><div>12:19 menchi: Doctor Jekel and Mr. Friend</div><div>12:19 singa: Friendknobs and Broomsticks</div><div>12:19 dramthevirgin: The Incredible Friend</div><div>12:19 dramthevirgin: Iron Friend</div><div>12:19 SpringHeeledJak: The League of extoraordinary Friends</div><div>12:19 Sean_Mc: Friend of La Mancha</div><div>12:20 menchi: Dunstin Checks Friend</div><div>12:20 Sean_Mc: Night at the Friend</div><div>12:20 dramthevirgin: Rozenfriend and Guildenfriend</div><div>12:20 menchi: are dead</div><div>12:20 mike_brady: A Friend of their Own</div><div>12:20 dramthevirgin: The Lion Friends</div><div>12:20 SpringHeeledJak: The friend of Tides</div><div>12:20 SpringHeeledJak: Pretty Friend</div><div>12:20 singa: The Little Friendmaid</div><div>12:20 dramthevirgin: Smallfriends</div><div>12:20 menchi: Sixteen Friends</div><div>12:20 dramthevirgin: True Friends</div><div>12:20 SpringHeeledJak: My Friend Pony</div><div>12:20 dramthevirgin: Breaking Friends</div><div>12:20 SpringHeeledJak: Friend Stallion</div><div>12:21 menchi: The Little Merfriend</div><div>12:21 Sean_Mc: Transfrienders</div><div>12:21 dramthevirgin: The Frurfs</div><div>12:21 SpringHeeledJak: The Dark Friend</div><div>12:21 Sean_Mc: My Bloody Friend</div><div>12:21 SpringHeeledJak: Friendrynth</div><div>12:21 mike_brady: Friendlier than Fiction</div><div>12:21 SpringHeeledJak: Kill Friends</div><div>12:21 menchi: Thunderfriends</div><div>12:21 singa: A Friend of Earthsea</div><div>12:21 mike_brady: lol singa</div><div>12:21 singa: LOL SHJ</div><div>12:21 Sean_Mc: Big Friend In Little China</div><div>12:21 menchi: nice</div><div>12:22 mike_brady: A Friend Named Wanda</div><div>12:22 singa: Kill Friends II</div><div>12:22 dramthevirgin: Lethal Friend 2</div><div>12:22 menchi: Frankenfriend</div><div>12:22 SpringHeeledJak: Harold and Kumar go to White Friends</div><div>12:22 dramthevirgin: NICE</div><div>12:22 mike_brady: LMAO</div><div>12:22 dramthevirgin: NICE NICE NICE</div><div>12:22 mike_brady: Well played!</div><div>12:22 singa: LOL LOL SHJ</div><div>12:22 menchi: damn</div><div>12:22 singa: Spring wins the internet</div><div>12:22 Sean_Mc: [/thread]</div><div>12:22 menchi: chat over</div><div>12:22 mike_brady: yep, that's it folks</div><div>12:22 singa: Game over, man! Game over!</div><div>12:22 dramthevirgin: Wow.</div><div>12:22 menchi: clap clap clap</div><div>12:23 dramthevirgin: That was an experience</div><div>12:23 singa: I'm a little ... wet ... now</div><div>12:23 menchi: now what</div><div>12:23 mike_brady: Now, we tell our story</div><div>12:23 Sean_Mc: lol</div><div>12:24 singa: Now we do the same thing with the word "ziggurat".</div><div>12:24 menchi: is the world ready to hear it</div><div>12:24 dramthevirgin: The Fifth Friendement, The Friendth Sense, Fr7ends, 8 Friend</div><div>12:24 mike_brady: Fr2n</div><div>12:24 Sean_Mc: Fr7ends is pretty good</div><div>12:24 menchi: noce</div><div>12:25 dramthevirgin: Same thing with the word Japanese</div><div>12:25 menchi: FRIendjiKS ENsue</div><div>12:25 Sean_Mc: Indeed</div><div>12:25 dramthevirgin: Friend of Fire</div><div>12:25 menchi: Friend on Fire</div><div>12:25 SpringHeeledJak: I was stumped to come up witha way to mash it with Dune</div><div>12:26 dramthevirgin: Friend Herbert's Dune</div><div>12:26 SpringHeeledJak: Twin Friends</div><div>12:26 menchi: Friends on a Plane</div><div>12:26 singa: Now we do it with the word "Bat'leth"</div><div>12:26 dramthevirgin: Bat'Leth Mama's house</div><div>12:26 SpringHeeledJak: Batleth and robin</div><div>12:26 singa: OMG what have I started???</div><div>12:26 menchi: Office Friends</div><div>12:26 mike_brady: Harry Potter and the Order of the Bat'leth</div><div>12:26 SpringHeeledJak: remember who your dealing with</div><div>12:26 dramthevirgin: Bat'Leth Dangerous</div><div>12:27 menchi: Batleth and Hooch</div><div>12:27 singa: Bat'leth Galactica</div><div>12:27 SpringHeeledJak: Bat'leth in Little China</div><div>12:27 mike_brady: A Bat'leth of Their Own</div><div>12:27 dramthevirgin: Ferris Bat'Leth's day off</div><div>12:27 singa: LOL Dram!</div><div>12:27 mike_brady: Late Night Bat'leths at Midnight</div><div>12:27 SpringHeeledJak: cant stop laughiong</div><div>12:27 dramthevirgin: Bat'Leth and Ted</div><div>12:27 singa: Giggling like a schoolgirl, I am</div><div>12:27 SpringHeeledJak: The Batleth family</div><div>12:28 menchi: Drop Dead Batleth</div><div>12:28 SpringHeeledJak: 3 Men and a Bat'leth</div><div>12:28 Sean_Mc: Bat'leth Star Galactica</div><div>12:28 dramthevirgin: A Bat'Leth of their own</div><div>12:28 dramthevirgin: Bat'Leth Alone</div><div>12:28 mike_brady: Klingon of Kong: A Fistful of Bat'Leth</div><div>12:28 dramthevirgin: nicve</div><div>12:28 dramthevirgin: nice</div><div>12:28 Sean_Mc: Ooh, good one</div><div>12:29 singa: The UnBat'lethables</div><div>12:29 menchi: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Bat'leth</div><div>12:29 menchi: Crystal Bat'leth</div><div>12:29 Sean_Mc: Bat'Leth of the Christ</div><div>12:29 SpringHeeledJak: The Bat'Lethoonies</div><div>12:29 dramthevirgin: Breaking Bat'Leth</div><div>12:29 singa: Hunt for Red Bat'leth</div><div>12:29 menchi: ooh</div><div>12:29 menchi: nice</div><div>12:29 singa: The Loneliness of the Long Distance Bat'leth</div><div>12:29 SpringHeeledJak: The Cinderella Bat'Leth</div><div>12:29 singa: Georgy Bat'leth</div><div>12:29 Sean_Mc: Bat'leth the Barbarian</div><div>12:30 SpringHeeledJak: Practical Bat'Leth</div><div>12:30 menchi: The Bat'leth of the Long Distance Runner</div><div>12:30 dramthevirgin: Lord of the Bat'Leths: The fellowship of the Bat'Leth</div><div>12:30 SpringHeeledJak: As Bat'Leth as it Getws</div><div>12:30 Sean_Mc: Four Bat'leths and a Funeral</div><div>12:30 mike_brady: To Wong Foo Thanks for Bat'Leth, Julie Newmar</div><div>12:30 singa: LOL @ Sean</div><div>12:30 SpringHeeledJak: Priscilla Queen of the Bat'Leth</div><div>12:30 dramthevirgin: Kill Bat'Leth</div><div>12:30 singa: How Stell Got Her Bat'leth Back</div><div>12:30 SpringHeeledJak: LOL singa</div><div>12:30 singa: *Stella</div><div>12:31 mike_brady: lol</div><div>12:31 dramthevirgin: The Lion the Witch and the Bat'Leth</div><div>12:31 menchi: Rocky Horror Bat'leth Show</div><div>12:31 singa: LOL @ Dram</div><div>12:31 SpringHeeledJak: The Legend of Boggy Bat'Leth</div><div>12:31 menchi: Baby Got Bat'leth</div><div>12:31 dramthevirgin: Bat'Leths in Toyland</div><div>12:31 singa: Bat'leth Mia</div><div>12:31 menchi: Sally Get Your Bat'leth</div><div>12:31 SpringHeeledJak: Bedknobs and Bat'Leths</div><div>12:31 singa: Bat'leth Mia, here I go again, oh, oh!</div><div>12:32 singa: Nice, Spring</div><div>12:32 dramthevirgin: Bat'Leth Poppins</div><div>12:32 menchi: Bat'leth Queen</div><div>12:32 SpringHeeledJak: LOL dram</div><div>12:32 singa: Bat'leths with Wolves</div><div>12:32 dramthevirgin: Last of the Bat'Lethicans</div><div>12:32 SpringHeeledJak: Big Bat'Leths House</div><div>12:32 menchi: The Little Bat'leth</div><div>12:33 dramthevirgin: The Bloody Little Bat'leth</div><div>12:33 singa: Little House on the Bat'leth</div><div>12:33 SpringHeeledJak: The Littel Bat'Leth on the Prarie</div><div>12:33 dramthevirgin: NICE</div><div>12:33 SpringHeeledJak: hive ind singa</div><div>12:33 singa: Hive mind!</div><div>12:33 dramthevirgin: den mind</div><div>12:33 menchi: My Bloody Bat'leth in 3D</div><div>12:33 SpringHeeledJak: Fancy Bastards need powerrings</div><div>12:33 dramthevirgin: Judge Bat'Leth</div><div>12:33 mike_brady: Bat'Leth on Elm Street</div><div>12:33 singa: Happy Bat'leth to Me</div><div>12:34 SpringHeeledJak: Four Bat'Leths and a Funeral</div><div>12:34 singa: Bat'lethraiser</div><div>12:34 dramthevirgin: Texas Bat'Leth Massacre</div><div>12:34 singa: Bridget Jones' Bat'leth</div><div>12:34 SpringHeeledJak: LOL dram</div><div>12:34 menchi: lol singa</div><div>12:34 Sean_Mc: Sex, Lies, and Bat'leth</div><div>12:34 singa: Gosford Bat'leth</div><div>12:35 singa: The Bat'leth of the Nile</div><div>12:35 menchi: Bat'leth in the city</div><div>12:35 singa: Murder by Bat'leth</div><div>12:35 dramthevirgin: 10,000 Bat'Leths</div><div>12:35 SpringHeeledJak: Gross Point Bat'Leth</div><div>12:35 SpringHeeledJak: The Bat'Leth Club</div><div>12:35 singa: lol spring</div><div>12:35 Sean_Mc: Boondock Bat'leths</div><div>12:35 mike_brady: The Bat'Leth over the River Kwai</div><div>12:35 dramthevirgin: CSB: Vulcan</div><div>12:35 menchi: 20,000 Bat'leths Under the Sea</div><div>12:36 singa: nice menchi</div><div>12:36 menchi: Not Without My Bat'leth</div><div>12:36 singa: Bat'leths on a Train</div><div>12:36 dramthevirgin: 2001: A Bat'Leth Odyssey</div><div>12:36 Sean_Mc: Bambat'leth</div><div>12:36 SpringHeeledJak: LOL</div><div>12:36 SpringHeeledJak: sean</div><div>12:37 mike_brady: Bat'Lethdog Millionaire</div><div>12:37 Sean_Mc: Taking that fuckin; hunter DOWN!!</div><div>12:37 menchi: last king of bat'leth</div><div>12:37 SpringHeeledJak: The Bat'Leth and I</div><div>12:37 singa: The Bat'leth in Winter</div><div>12:37 dramthevirgin: The Bat'Leth and the pauper</div><div>12:37 SpringHeeledJak: A tale of Two Bat'leths</div><div>12:37 dramthevirgin: White Bat'Leth</div><div>12:37 singa: Bat'lethman</div><div>12:38 mike_brady: Bat'Leth for the Planet of the Apes</div><div>12:38 SpringHeeledJak: The Bat'Lething of the Shrew</div><div>12:38 menchi: The Neverending Bat'leth</div><div>12:38 dramthevirgin: The Bat'Leth of the Christ</div><div>12:38 singa: Bat'leth of Montreal</div><div>12:38 Sean_Mc: did it</div><div>12:38 SpringHeeledJak: OK love you guys but I must go</div><div>12:38 singa: sorry!</div><div>12:38 menchi: Bye</div><div>12:38 dramthevirgin: later Jak</div><div>12:38 SpringHeeledJak: you have a great evening</div><div>12:38 singa: Later, Chris!</div><div>12:38 Sean_Mc: See ya</div><div>12:38 SpringHeeledJak: (We need a Fancy Bastard salute)</div><div>12:39 dramthevirgin: Godspeed</div><div>12:39 Sean_Mc: GYFB</div><div>12:39 singa: Involving a Bat'leth</div><div>12:39 Sean_Mc: Godspeed You Fancy Bat'leth</div><div>12:39 SpringHeeledJak: I say we steal Team Ventures</div><div>12:39 dramthevirgin: Sci-Five</div><div>12:39 singa: a 21 Bat'leth salute</div><div>12:39 mike_brady: Godspeed You Fancy Bat'Leth</div><div>12:39 dramthevirgin: SHWIP</div><div>12:39 mike_brady: oh crap</div><div>12:39 mike_brady: didn't see ya Sean</div><div>12:39 menchi: Sieg HE</div><div>12:39 Sean_Mc: That's 2</div><div>12:39 mike_brady: yikes</div><div>12:40 mike_brady: I can't fail another</div><div>12:40 Sean_Mc: ha</div><div>12:40 menchi: Dude Where's My Bat'leth</div><div>12:40 singa: Is there an echo in here?</div><div>12:40 dramthevirgin: Mean Bat'Leths</div><div>12:40 mike_brady: The Bat'Leth Effect</div><div>12:40 singa: I Love You, Bat'leth</div><div>12:40 menchi: Starship Bat'leths</div><div>12:41 mike_brady: Bat'Leth, Interrupted</div><div>12:41 dramthevirgin: Bat'Leth Fight at the OK Corral</div><div>12:41 menchi: nice dram</div><div>12:41 Sean_Mc: nice</div><div>12:41 singa: Bat'leth to the Future</div><div>12:41 dramthevirgin: A Fistful of Bat'Leths</div><div>12:41 menchi: echo</div><div>12:41 menchi: the bat'leth strikes back</div><div>12:41 singa: West-Side Bat'leth</div><div>12:41 mike_brady: Love, Bat'Lethtually</div><div>12:41 Sean_Mc: This Is Spinal Bat'leth</div><div>12:41 mike_brady: ouch</div><div>12:41 menchi: nice mike</div><div>12:42 Sean_Mc: yeah</div><div>12:42 dramthevirgin: nice sean</div><div>12:42 singa: Best in Bat'leth</div><div>12:42 menchi: Blues Bat'leths</div><div>12:42 Sean_Mc: Bat'leth at the Roxbury</div><div>12:42 singa: A Mighty Bat'leth</div><div>12:42 singa: Bat'leth Brothers</div><div>12:42 menchi: Bat'leth Show</div><div>12:42 dramthevirgin: A Connecticut Bat'Leth in King Arthur's Court</div><div>12:42 singa: Bat'lethBusters</div><div>12:42 singa: lol dram!</div><div>12:43 menchi: shit dram</div><div>12:43 mike_brady: yes, well done indeed</div><div>12:43 dramthevirgin: The Bat'Leth Cosby Show</div><div>12:43 Sean_Mc: Dram that would have been great for Friends too - Ct Yankee in KA's Friend</div><div>12:43 menchi: Tom Sawyer and Hukleberry Bat'leth</div><div>12:44 dramthevirgin: The King James Bat'Leth</div><div>12:44 menchi: lol</div><div>12:44 singa: Deep Bat'leth 9</div><div>12:44 mike_brady: That was the first Bat'Leth to be mass produced</div><div>12:44 dramthevirgin: And the most shoplifted</div><div>12:44 menchi: The Bat'leth According To Jim</div><div>12:44 singa: I Get Bat'leth with a Little Help from My Friends</div><div>12:44 mike_brady: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Bat'Leth</div><div>12:44 dramthevirgin: 13 Bat'Leths for dating my teenage P'Takh</div><div>12:44 singa: Or get by with a little help from my Bat'leth</div><div>12:45 menchi: shit dram won</div><div>12:45 dramthevirgin: Mike, that sounds like a real thing</div><div>12:45 singa: lol dram</div><div>12:45 Sean_Mc: Singa got both games in one title though</div><div>12:45 mike_brady: truly</div><div>12:45 mike_brady: Kapla! all around</div><div>12:45 singa: Oh noes, Sean has upped the stakes!</div><div>12:45 menchi: but dram said P'Takh</div><div>12:45 menchi: KAPLA</div><div>12:45 singa: Points for P'Takh</div><div>12:46 Sean_Mc: And that's numberwang!</div><div>12:46 dramthevirgin: Nuqneh Muddah, Nuqneh Faddah</div><div>12:46 dramthevirgin: wait, I can cheat, my klingon dictionary is right here</div><div>12:46 singa: Here's a letter from Camp Granada?</div><div>12:46 menchi: mine is somewhere</div><div>12:46 mike_brady: Here I am at Camp KAPLA</div><div>12:47 singa: Ok, I must turn in, too. </div><div>12:47 singa: Night!</div><div>12:47 menchi: night</div><div>12:47 mike_brady: Bat'Leth, when the walls fell</div><div>12:47 singa: LOL, Mike!!!!</div><div>12:47 dramthevirgin: mogjt Somga</div><div>12:47 singa: Excellent!</div><div>12:47 dramthevirgin: NIGHT singa</div><div>12:47 mike_brady: My parting gift to you</div><div>12:48 Sean_Mc: Bat'leth verada nikto</div><div>12:48 dramthevirgin: that was good</div><div>12:48 singa: Night you Fanciest of Bat'leths!</div><div>12:48 singa: lol Sean</div><div>12:48 menchi: Godspeed</div><div>12:48 mike_brady: many lols</div><div>12:48 dramthevirgin: you princes of maine, you kings of new england</div><div>12:48 singa: Stop being funny so I can leave!!</div><div>12:48 singa: -)</div><div>12:48 mike_brady: Was that from the Cider House Friends?</div><div>12:48 menchi: cyclops smiley</div><div>12:48 dramthevirgin: I have no idea</div><div>12:49 mike_brady: or the Bat'Leth House Rules?</div><div>12:49 menchi: no Bat'leth house rules</div><div>12:49 menchi: hive mind</div><div>12:49 mike_brady: quite</div><div>12:49 dramthevirgin: Jinxzorz'd</div><div>12:49 dramthevirgin: The Bat'Leth Escape</div><div>12:50 dramthevirgin: Bat'Lething Private Ryan</div><div>12:50 Sean_Mc: Just turned on The N looking for 70's Show and got Degrassi instead. Here was the line....</div><div>12:50 menchi: lol</div><div>12:50 Sean_Mc: "I don't want that gunk in my mouth" "Oh it's not going in your mouth."</div><div>12:50 dramthevirgin: HAHAHAHA</div><div>12:50 menchi: WHOA</div><div>12:50 mike_brady: -o</div><div>12:50 menchi: canada rocks</div><div>12:51 Sean_Mc: I'm guessing I'm not their target audience.</div><div>12:51 dramthevirgin: Let's try it with Geography</div><div>12:51 menchi: canada</div><div>12:51 dramthevirgin: and landmarks</div><div>12:51 dramthevirgin: The great Bat'Leth of Alexandria</div><div>12:51 mike_brady: one last one...</div><div>12:51 mike_brady: A Bat'Leth Runs Through It</div><div>12:51 Sean_Mc: nice</div><div>12:51 menchi: A Canadian Warewolf in London</div><div>12:52 dramthevirgin: Team Canada: World Hat</div><div>12:52 menchi: lol</div><div>12:52 Sean_Mc: A Japanese Tale: Fievel Goes East</div><div>12:52 dramthevirgin: HAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA</div><div>12:52 menchi: Ah So</div><div>12:52 dramthevirgin: OH MAN</div><div>12:52 dramthevirgin: That killed me</div><div>12:53 dramthevirgin: Brokeback Italy</div><div>12:53 Sean_Mc: OK, and I think that'll be my parting words</div><div>12:53 Sean_Mc: LOL</div><div>12:53 dramthevirgin: Goodnight man</div><div>12:53 menchi: Goodnight You Fancy Bastard</div><div>12:53 mike_brady: yeah I'm cashed too</div><div>12:53 dramthevirgin: Guess I'll head too</div><div>12:53 menchi: Me too</div><div>12:53 dramthevirgin: I got most of the last hour saved</div><div>12:54 menchi: sweet</div><div>12:54 dramthevirgin: I'll piece it together and post it somewhere tomorrow</div><div>12:54 dramthevirgin: night dudes</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-4147025484472517555?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-74439720396437267292008-10-20T11:16:00.001-07:002008-10-20T11:18:22.743-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SPzK-h6lXEI/AAAAAAAAAMI/uoNkkhs7O-U/s1600-h/lil+knight.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SPzK-h6lXEI/AAAAAAAAAMI/uoNkkhs7O-U/s400/lil+knight.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259301640466684994" /></a><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SPzLCXMKjqI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/rw1DjuW3L_4/s1600-h/Schrodinger+treasure+map.png"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SPzLCXMKjqI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/rw1DjuW3L_4/s400/Schrodinger+treasure+map.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259301706307112610" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SPzLJN4aoJI/AAAAAAAAAMY/_Wdl22ou8kY/s1600-h/Stinky+sock.png"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SPzLJN4aoJI/AAAAAAAAAMY/_Wdl22ou8kY/s400/Stinky+sock.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259301824067444882" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; " /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-7443972039643726729?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-45929296555374410012008-10-19T17:30:00.000-07:002008-10-19T17:31:08.688-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SPvRMqCi3mI/AAAAAAAAAMA/_u2K4HQi4ww/s1600-h/go+ahead+bird.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SPvRMqCi3mI/AAAAAAAAAMA/_u2K4HQi4ww/s400/go+ahead+bird.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259027005258784354" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-4592929655537441001?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-25016128197464228992008-10-19T16:30:00.000-07:002008-10-19T16:32:10.727-07:00<div>Because none of my sketch sessions cure cancer.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SPvDNtpXRGI/AAAAAAAAAL4/YIBXjxXSExU/s1600-h/evil+mime+baby.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SPvDNtpXRGI/AAAAAAAAAL4/YIBXjxXSExU/s400/evil+mime+baby.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259011630243988578" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-2501612819746422899?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-48302714867931731742008-10-19T15:35:00.000-07:002008-10-19T15:37:33.162-07:00<div>Another Jimothy. Starting to have fun with these, even if it is only the second one in years.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SPu2WzwfNdI/AAAAAAAAALw/r_o2QIzpnCU/s1600-h/jimothy2.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SPu2WzwfNdI/AAAAAAAAALw/r_o2QIzpnCU/s320/jimothy2.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258997492852143570" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-4830271486793173174?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-56620970513953897762008-10-18T21:33:00.000-07:002008-10-18T21:52:09.458-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SPq89Gqm8VI/AAAAAAAAALo/5jC19_4PMJI/s1600-h/haircomic.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SPq89Gqm8VI/AAAAAAAAALo/5jC19_4PMJI/s320/haircomic.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258723272855843154" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SPq8TKyEH7I/AAAAAAAAALg/e3FmLpUqh9E/s1600-h/haircomic.png"></a><br /><div>(Click picture for full size)</div><div>Now 12:48 am here. This is from a series called "Jimothy," a strip I filled a few notebooks with in high school. The style was very different then, but the basic idea has stayed the same: Jimothy always wins.</div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><br /></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-5662097051395389776?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-39081163312671283612008-10-18T20:20:00.001-07:002008-10-18T20:26:50.359-07:00<div>My one and only comic on this amazing day. (click for full size)</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SPqodXg1BhI/AAAAAAAAALQ/Bkk9U6HPLtY/s1600-h/haircomic.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SPqodXg1BhI/AAAAAAAAALQ/Bkk9U6HPLtY/s200/haircomic.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5258700737389856274" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-3908116331267128361?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-6099282470768925592008-09-18T19:31:00.000-07:002008-09-18T19:36:27.049-07:00<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Human brains, and indeed all known brains, are masses of on/off switches. With such a compartmentalized system even on the cellular level, it is therefore unsurprising that we have the urge to classify our surroundings. The goal of any human equation is to create the simple from the complex. It is from this same instinct that man has created great pain for himself: issues of race, gender, sexuality, caste, all became battlegrounds when proud men refused to surrender to the equation around them, clutching at the simplest perceived truths.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:200%"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">This is easily recognized within the issue of the indoor versus the outdoor, possibly most notable in any local weather report. When a meteorologist discusses a coming damp Thursday, he will always be careful to keep his face somber and dignified so as not to offend the viewer. The viewer glares at him, glancing only occasionally at the future, as if they suspect him of being a spy.</span></span></span></p><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-609928247076892559?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-46303736857529375292008-07-20T11:52:00.000-07:002008-08-21T19:10:29.836-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SIOJoVDDH3I/AAAAAAAAAII/P-injJkd7Bc/s1600-h/comic31.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SIOJoVDDH3I/AAAAAAAAAII/P-injJkd7Bc/s320/comic31.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225171318617612146" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I've been climbing mountains in search of WiFi a lot in the past week. I feel like an explorer.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-4630373685752937529?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-37235696322498381712008-07-20T11:51:00.000-07:002008-07-20T11:52:36.242-07:00Speech can be a wonderful thing, we all know this, but obviously the world leans hard on text in these halcyon days of the digital. It is important, therefore, to recognize the benefits of text over speech, as well as its limitations that its employment might be expanded. One aspect of text I find endearing is its ability convey a thought more completely and with greater purity of intent, whereas the harried and sudden nature of speech makes it almost impossible to express things to the extent that one would like to. On the other hand, speech promotes the injection of smaller thoughts and opinions into a conversation, speech, answering machine message, etc. This is counterbalanced by the ease with which text can be compiled and archived, creating libraries of concepts and opinions of any size, nature, and import. When the same task is set upon someone, save with speech, the standard procedure is to convert it to text and archive it in this more controllable and recognizable form. Possibly the most important benefit to text, however, is its anonymity, at least over the internet. While arguably a downside in many cases, as it is often misconceived as a license to be hurtful, this anonymity creates an environment where people can express their true thoughts without extreme social pressure to change those beliefs that the user might experience on the physical plane. This also benefits the reader, as they can appreciate the content of the text unfettered by their own personal prejudices about aspects of the writer's background.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-3723569632249838171?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-19538243253166680182008-07-20T11:49:00.000-07:002008-07-20T11:51:09.978-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SIOJBPrFNeI/AAAAAAAAAIA/YM0OWpnYPNw/s1600-h/comic28.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SIOJBPrFNeI/AAAAAAAAAIA/YM0OWpnYPNw/s320/comic28.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225170647160010210" border="0" /></a><br />First, have a comic:<br /><br /><br /><br />And now, our feature presentation:<br />Ever been lost in your own neighborhood?<br />I live in a small town, 18,000 people. It's nestled in a valley between two small mountains, about 5 miles apart. Today I decided to take a hike to the top of the nearest of the two to me, and I had a great time, got some great views of the town below me, etc. On the way back down, I decided to take what I hoped was a shortcut. Normally I would have to walk for about 2 miles along main streets to get to the small park (more of a trail nexus really) at the top, but if the shortcut panned out I might be able to halve that distance. I started along the quiet road, and became almost instantly lost. Each house seemed stranger and more alien, and I even wondered once or twice if I had lost track of time and stumbled into another town. I sped up, looking for a street sign, and found one, shocked by its contents. But... that street's...<br />I rounded a bend, "Hey! That's my house!"<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-1953824325316668018?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-41882861918087270582008-07-17T16:01:00.000-07:002008-07-17T16:06:49.303-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SH_PmudldaI/AAAAAAAAAHo/PcTyupRBJGg/s1600-h/comic27.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SH_PmudldaI/AAAAAAAAAHo/PcTyupRBJGg/s320/comic27.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224122356987164066" border="0" /></a><br />It's strange, the many things we Americans call obscene; we bar parts of our own bodies for crissakes! There are two major things we bar our youth from experiencing: specific syllabic combinations (swears), and parts that THEY HAVE, parts that are essential to the survival of the species as a whole. We all know how hippocritical this is, any sane person walking down the street will tell you if you ask that they have no problem with human anatomy, and that children shouldn't be told their own bodies are foul and evil. With just a little thought, it is possible to track down the culprits of this masochism, the Victorians. The Victorians gave us two things: pointless social constraints (which fork do I use? Oh God!), and steampunk. Much as I love steampunk, I think I'd be willing to give it up if it meant a less perverse view of self in western culture. Fucking victorians. Fucking Victoria.<br /><br />For this reason, I now present my first fully nude comic:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SH_QcMKeGNI/AAAAAAAAAH4/a1hxKqiY4eg/s1600-h/comic26.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SH_QcMKeGNI/AAAAAAAAAH4/a1hxKqiY4eg/s320/comic26.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224123275493120210" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-4188286191808727058?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-83233075344121894292008-07-17T15:53:00.000-07:002008-07-17T16:01:00.564-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SH_N1R0uDNI/AAAAAAAAAHY/uYVvXcfa1Io/s1600-h/comic29.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SH_N1R0uDNI/AAAAAAAAAHY/uYVvXcfa1Io/s320/comic29.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224120407974350034" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">They step out of the Nomenclature and into a beautiful clearing with an apple tree and a nude young man under it. The man sees them but does not get up.</span><br />Laureate: Well, there he is, you wanted to see him so badly.<br />Tres: That's Adam?<br />Laureate: Well, it's one of them.<br />Tres: Where's Eve?<br />Laureate: Oh she's not in this draft, it's far too early for her to have been included.<br />Tres: What do you mean draft? There are other drafts?<br />Laureate: Hundreds. I thought you might like an early one; they're much quieter, less fire and brimstone. Plus this idiot keeps his mouth shut.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Adam makes a face at Laureate and catches an apple falling from the tree without looking at it, taking a bite.</span><br />Tres: How'd he do that!?<br />Laureate: It's a pretty short story at this point. He's been through it enough times to know when things like that are supposed to happen.<br />Tres: What happens in this version?<br />Laureate: Well, this is, if we're going to be quite specific, the first draft: the first concept of the first man. The author hadn't fleshed out much plot, but sooner or later this idiot's going to get up and start creating the rest of mankind.<br />Tres: Well, how's that going to work without Eve?<br />Laureate: I don't know, and apparently neither did the author. He had to start the story all over again when he got to that part.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Adam starts to get up</span><br />Laureate: Oh, that really was quick. We need to leave now.<br />Tres: Why?<br />Laureate: The last plot point is about to begin, and like I said it hasn't really been well defined. The story could become very unstable. Come on. <span style="font-style: italic;">he helps her up into the hatch of the Nomenclature .</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">They shut the hatch just as the outside world explodes into dark chaos, an unmaking and restarting of an entire universe.</span><br />Tres: God that was close!<br />Laureate: Yes, another tired cliche. I must say I don't care considerably for your story's authorage.<br />Tres: <span style="font-style: italic;">after a pause, looking out the window at the swirling nothingness</span> So, what happens when a story ends?<br />Laureate: It starts over, but that's an oversimplification. It would be more accurate to say that the audience goes back to the beginning, the first page or canto or stanza or stone tablet or--<br />Tres: AHHH! <span style="font-style: italic;">Adam is floating in nothingness, and peeking into their window with an impish grin</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Laureate:</span> Oh, tap on the glass! He'll hate that.<span style="font-style: italic;"> Tres gives him a look, 'Are you kidding me?' He giggles, reaching across her and tapping the window himself,</span> "Shouldn't you be getting back to the beginning?"<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Adam turns and glides back in the direction the clearing would be if the space still existed. There is a flash, and he is once again under the tree. He glances up at a branch with a ripe apple on it.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Laureate leans back from the window, turning to a book.</span><br />Laureate: (chuckling) Whoo, me and him, we go way back. <span style="font-style: italic;">He spins the wheel with his free hand and slams the button in the center of it with his fist, all without looking. The world outside becomes a blur as a violent roar tears the craft out of the story and back into the flow of inspiration.</span><br />Tres: <span style="font-style: italic;">seeming a bit out of spirits and polishing the wheel on the hatch with her thumb</span> So if that story had an author, does that mean that there's no God?<br />Laureate: You are entirely free to guess on the authorage of that little tale.<br />Tres: But, the story was imperfect, it couldn't have been God. God isn't supposed make mistakes.<br />Laureate: (looking up from his book) Just because something is imperfect doesn't mean the creator made a mistake. Indeed, the story of the garden of Eden is one explanation for how an imperfect world can exist with a perfect creator.<br />Tres: Wow. <span style="font-style: italic;">she looks at him slyly</span> You know, you make a pretty good case for the existence of the big guy.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Laureate, still without looking up from his book, holds up a massive volume covered in earmarks, bookmarks, and notes</span> Would you like to hear my argument for atheism?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">They ricochet through story time/space, dancing inside supernovas and exploding through packed ballrooms of romance novel lovers. Slapping his book shut, Laureate gives the wheel another spin, and they turn a sharp 1200 degrees.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Laureate: checking his spinning bookshelf for something else to read</span> We're going to be going through a rough patch in a moment, so you might want to close your eyes, ears, nose...<br />Tres: Nose?<br />Laureate: <span style="font-style: italic;">With a calm tone but a heightened note of urgency</span> Just do it!<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">An enormous explosion sounds outside of the Nomenclature and Tres shrieks and ducks under her seat, trying her best to block all of the aforementioned faculties. An immense thing that can only be described as a face slams into the porthole. Hundreds of horribly thin strands of flesh, each with a hard spherical growth on the end scratch across the surface. Each rocklike growth vibrates against the glass, creating a deafening and terrible sound. Their leashes stand straight intermittently, vibrating like wicked tuning forks. After ten seconds of this, pockets of air form from around the sides of the window, and whatever the thing is disappears back to its source.</span><br /><br />Tres: What WAS that thing!?<br />Laureate: A GREAT book. Haven't seen the thing in ages... <span style="font-style: italic;">he spins the bookshelf absently.</span><br />Tres: You SUCK!<br />Laureate: Beg your pardon?<br />Tres: Get your head out of a book!<br />Laureate: Well I've been perfectly cordial to you.<br />Tres: Sorry, sorry, that thing just, scared the HELL out of me!<br />Laureate: Me too actually, the first time.<br />Tres: Well um, what do we do now?<br />Laureate: Where do you want to go?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SH_N8ohyl3I/AAAAAAAAAHg/mFqhpetKE-U/s1600-h/comic30.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SH_N8ohyl3I/AAAAAAAAAHg/mFqhpetKE-U/s320/comic30.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224120534328055666" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-8323307534412189429?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-29747353360925945132008-07-15T22:05:00.000-07:002008-07-15T22:19:37.275-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SH2EuBHw_LI/AAAAAAAAAHI/83K_jHc2mYg/s1600-h/comic25.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SH2EuBHw_LI/AAAAAAAAAHI/83K_jHc2mYg/s320/comic25.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223477068929498290" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Today was wonderful. I woke up at noon, ate a hearty breakfast of soda and bacon, internet'd for a few hours, and then it happened: My mom brought over ten steaks. Ten beautiful, 1.2 pound prime cut motherfucking steaks. She got a gold star.<br /><br />With 90% of my prize be-freezered, I set out to cook a delicious one-piece meal. I found the utensils, the iron tools of cookery, and the plate, and before long my gorgeous feast sat on the table, waiting like a hooker in bed. I hurried to the cupboard, standing on childish tip-toes to reach the deceivingly mediocre-looking<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SH2E1iAsCEI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/x0H8lei5hPg/s1600-h/comic24.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SH2E1iAsCEI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/x0H8lei5hPg/s320/comic24.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223477198017267778" border="0" /></a> bottle of A1 from eye level. My fingers curled around it and my hand jerked up easily, too easily. Squinting at the side of the nearly opaque bottle I realized with a shock that there was only a fifth of a bottle left: one steak's worth.<br /><br />Also afros are silly.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-2974735336092594513?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-79930179824226945532008-07-14T15:49:00.000-07:002008-07-14T16:04:27.865-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHvbVZjcbrI/AAAAAAAAAGo/SURtoKZ3Ywg/s1600-h/comic23.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHvbVZjcbrI/AAAAAAAAAGo/SURtoKZ3Ywg/s400/comic23.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223009353549508274" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHvY3_HhpjI/AAAAAAAAAGI/ik4b1gvc4d0/s1600-h/comic22.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHvY3_HhpjI/AAAAAAAAAGI/ik4b1gvc4d0/s320/comic22.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223006649213625906" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I love movies. A stupid sentence indeed, but no, really, I love them like a man stranded in international waters for six months loves an orca's blowhole.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHvZqkR716I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Mbd97AXoUVU/s1600-h/comic21.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHvZqkR716I/AAAAAAAAAGY/Mbd97AXoUVU/s320/comic21.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223007518182856610" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I love the stories they tell, I love the people they make real, I love the action they incarnate, I love it all. Have some comics.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-7993017982422694553?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-54512018724186084742008-07-14T15:46:00.000-07:002008-07-14T15:48:38.841-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHvXopmsOZI/AAAAAAAAAFw/sg_vu_gmKug/s1600-h/comic20point5.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHvXopmsOZI/AAAAAAAAAFw/sg_vu_gmKug/s320/comic20point5.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223005286229096850" border="0" /></a><br />What makes a man turn bad? Couldn't tell you. All I've ever known is the open road and the smell of dust and gasoline. Been on the run since birth, moving from town to town, soon from state to state. Now my universe is the road to Mexico and back; been riding that way for a damn lifetime.<br /><br />I first got hooked on the stuff when I was nine, a couple of city boys thought it'd be funny to hold the little guy down, try and get him hooked. It worked.<br /><br />That first hit was like dying, going home, and a sweet kiss all at once. I didn't know who I was til my daddy's fist bounced offa my face. He screamed something but I couldn't hear him. I'd found my place and I had to get back.<br /><br />A month later the stuff was getting dangerous, real dangerous. It wanted me dead and I wanted whatever it wanted. Half the time now I was powdered up like half of Hollywood; stuff was on my fingers, my face, hell It was everywhere. I'd lick my fingers after I used; I had no illusions about how messy I was. I was checking dumpsters behind supermarkets, minimarts, soon even gas stations, whether or not the place was holding. I couldn't have looked human, and soon people started taking pot shots when I came around. I wasn't welcome in town any more, so I stole a bike and headed for the city.<br /><br />I didn't know a goddamned thing about bikes, and I doubt I made it more than a mile out of town. I was trying to use with one hand, the stuff clenched between one leg and the bike, and I slid. Road was paved, but I was only half on it. I was chucked into the woods like a dead squirrel, and I blacked out.<br /><br />When I came too I was forty feet from the road, hand still clutching the bag, coated in the stuff. I was sickly sober. I stared at that bag, and I didn't say nothing for a dead hour. The bag stared back at me, inviting me back home, but I couldn't go back. I pried my fingers off of that orange son of a bitch, took both hands and ten minutes, and I rolled over. I don't even remember how I got out, but in the end I got to the damned city. I got there, and I just kept going, didn't even stop for gas. I rode and I rode, and I found myself in Mexico, and I kept going. It ain't easy being cheesy.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-5451201872418608474?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-19278859893320726022008-07-13T13:40:00.000-07:002008-07-13T15:40:44.360-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqEaHTdNGI/AAAAAAAAACc/reKYkYwpgpU/s1600-h/comic1.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqEaHTdNGI/AAAAAAAAACc/reKYkYwpgpU/s200/comic1.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222632302061630562" /></a><br />Dungeons and Dragons is unfathomably astounding:<br />if you play with the right people. I do not. Around a month ago two of my players essentially ceased to exist, one without any prior notice. The other two are constantly busy with work, and I can't play with just them even when they are around.<br />I find myself supremely frustrated and a bit depressed, as I put a huge amount of effort into the campaign, and now it just sits there. I have pages of fluff, shelves of props, notebooks of sketches, zoos of furious beasts, and four empty chairs. It seems like such a waste. The cherry on my metaphor of failure is that all of my players love my sessions, and they always want to play. It's so heartbreaking telling them they can't when I want to help them and give them a magical world to inhabit just as much or more than they want to inhabit it.<br />Well, I'm sure it'll work out somehow.<br />In the meantime, if you live near Greenfield Massachusetts and you need a DM or you'd like to try playing, please let me know.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-1927885989332072602?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-91059659537258273082008-07-13T13:32:00.001-07:002008-07-13T15:52:30.373-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqG-TxRmkI/AAAAAAAAACk/JL91EN4Kw_E/s1600-h/comic2.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqG-TxRmkI/AAAAAAAAACk/JL91EN4Kw_E/s200/comic2.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222635122906470978" /></a><br />I um. I just convinced myself that my reflection made my computer work and that it wanted to see me sexually ravished before it would make an MMO work. I... I need to get a job.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-9105965953725827308?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-17481706682675967762008-06-21T13:16:00.000-07:002008-07-13T16:08:29.559-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqK6V2cOkI/AAAAAAAAAC0/VxY1tzbxi4Y/s1600-h/comic4.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqK6V2cOkI/AAAAAAAAAC0/VxY1tzbxi4Y/s200/comic4.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222639452792044098" /></a><br />We met at a party.<br />You never hear that when you ask your parents how they met; they always say they caught each other's eye in a bookstore or some nonsense. They probably all meet at parties.<br />He didn't know who I was, so he didn't care about me. He was like that. I was too.<br />The difference was that I didn't know anyone, and he obviously knew everyone. Everyone but me.<br />With my standards so unavailable I decided to take pity on the wretches around me: I sauntered, learning how to walk again at every step, to the drink table. I looked around... good, no one saw my shaking steps. No one.<br />I turned back around to the drinks; a tacky label with some German word on it jeered at me, "You have no idea what I am, have you fräulein?"<br />Damnit, he was right: I didn't drink.<br />I poured whatever it was into a see-through plastic cup and passed it immediately to my left hand, holding it with my fingertips around the rim, that was more nonchalant, right? I made sure my arm was bent just a little. If it was straight it would give the subconscious impression that it was heavy; it wasn't heavy! I was nonchalant!<br />I wandered over to my usual wall, a vision of apathy. I loved that wall, because it had four paintings on it, two portraits, a landscape, and an abstract. The paintings were great, so detailed that they took almost an hour of my time to observe, complete with the mandated eyebrow movements and stroking of the jawline. I wandered from piece to piece with that leg-across-leg mosey that art students in tight pants use to shuffle between pieces in museums.<br />I admit that I checked the clock a few times in this period, making it show very plainly on my face that I had understood and was deeply concerned about the time displayed.<br />Eventually I remembered that I had forgotten something in my car, something vital to the survival of the festivities. Everyone just sit tight while I get it.<br />I hustled out of the room in the most purposeful, determined, preoccupied, and nonchalant face seen since. I was getting so tired of learning to walk.<br />I opened my car door and stared into it for ten minutes, my mind a blank. The light lit up the entire driveway, and I knew I must have looked like an idiot. It didn't matter, anyone watching would know better just as soon as I found... the thing! Yes, here it was, I thought, opening and closing the glove box. I closed the car door, fell back a step and cursed. No matter, I was busy. I walked determinedly up the driveway, around the house, and into a lonely chez lounge lying near a dark above-ground pool. I sighed.<br />Why the hell was I here? I didn't know these people, heck, I barely knew Cindy. How had she managed to drag me here, anyway? Oh. Right. I had nothing better to do. Great for me.<br />I sighed again.<br />He walked by with a huge unlit sparkler in his teeth; the thing must have been four feet long and it dripped like a fern from his mouth. He paused on the way past, "Oh, hey, I'm Zach," He said nonchalantly, "I'm a friend of Ted's."<br />"I have no idea who Ted is," I blurted, "I'm one of Cindy's friends from work: Danielle."<br />"Yeah... I have no idea who Cindy is," he replied, leaning against the pool.<br />"Me either!" I shrieked, half sobbing and half laughing.<br />He chuckled, relaxed.<br />"I have no idea where I am."<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-1748170668267596776?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-73899787189983568552008-06-11T18:12:00.000-07:002008-07-13T19:18:46.878-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqTSkwfR6I/AAAAAAAAADU/l6JDkl5cEpQ/s1600-h/comic6.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqTSkwfR6I/AAAAAAAAADU/l6JDkl5cEpQ/s200/comic6.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222648665203492770" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SFB44vPRnSI/AAAAAAAAACM/REGBYGbIG14/s1600-h/Approximation.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 277px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SFB44vPRnSI/AAAAAAAAACM/REGBYGbIG14/s400/Approximation.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210797685016206626" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-7389978718998356855?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-87717248486209513532008-06-09T20:11:00.000-07:002008-07-13T16:22:23.518-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqOKx56OeI/AAAAAAAAADM/Ct7I5ToRwLE/s1600-h/comic5.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqOKx56OeI/AAAAAAAAADM/Ct7I5ToRwLE/s200/comic5.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222643033735576034" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />My name is DRAM. It is pronounced the same way as the word DRAMA. You have been EDUCATED.<br /><br />Grazie.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-8771724848620951353?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-3498964266919964192008-06-09T19:53:00.000-07:002008-07-13T16:45:32.931-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqTkUkWnmI/AAAAAAAAADc/DYciC0qrqcA/s1600-h/comic7.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqTkUkWnmI/AAAAAAAAADc/DYciC0qrqcA/s200/comic7.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222648970095271522" border="0" /></a><br />I came to a wholly unimportant realization about myself today: I reckon all time from the year 2000. When I think of 2008 I think that it has been 8 years since 2000. When I think of 1996, I think, "Oh, that was four years before 2000."<br /><br />What's up with that?<br /><br />I mean, did anything cool or interesting happen in "2k" at all, besides us all waking up alive? I guess it's just all of those zeros. Damn zeros, you've made a boring year undeservedly famous!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-349896426691996419?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-52703642131134008152008-06-08T13:30:00.000-07:002008-07-13T17:00:12.837-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqXCCqMcgI/AAAAAAAAADk/FO6dvjC4NTo/s1600-h/comic8.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqXCCqMcgI/AAAAAAAAADk/FO6dvjC4NTo/s200/comic8.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222652779218891266" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">I got an email recently that caught my eye:<br /></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Hey there,</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">My name's Keith Cardin. I've just graduated from high school in Orlando, Florida and upon graduating, I've started the website Teen Uprising (</span><a style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" href="http://www.teenuprising.com/" target="_blank">www.TeenUprising.com</a><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">). I've intended the website to be an online news media source, like CNN or Fox News, but completely driven by Teens. I've noticed your school paper was posted on </span><a style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" href="http://highschooljournalism.org/" target="_blank">highschooljournalism.org</a><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"> and thought you or your friends might be interested in either writing for us or just checking the site out in general.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">We offer four writers per section - it could be anything from Auto, Celebrity Junkyard, Fashion, Gaming, Health, Advice Columns, [and the list goes on and on].</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">So go ahead and check it out if you have an interest.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Thanks,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Keith</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">This person had apparently read some of the articles I did in high school on our online school paper, or sent an address finding bot to it, I'm not sure. In any case, I found the idea somewhat attractive, in that <span style="font-weight: bold;">A.</span> I love writing and <span style="font-weight: bold;">B.</span> I hate censorship, so I kept the mail in my inbox so I'd be reminded to check out this person's website. Well, I did. This person was absolutely cordial to me, so I'm not going to do anything stupid like rate their site on a scale of 1 to 10, but I would invite you to check out <a style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);" href="http://paper.unspoken-secrets.com/">their website</a> and make your own judgments.<br /><br />I replied to them:<br /><br /></span></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">While I support teen awareness and journalism in all its forms, I am hesitant to climb on board your project for the following reasons:</span><br /><ul style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><li>Upon visiting the front page of your website and reading the introduction, I noted <i>several</i> spelling mistakes, and if I were to write for a service such as yours it would have to be very serious and professional.</li><li>I noted the word Teen 13 times on the same page. While, once again, I think youth journalism is important, basing a site solely on the base of the age of its proprietors seems shaky. What will you do if one of your writers turns 20? Change your mission statement?<br /></li><li>You promote yourselves as the, "#1 media source, driven by teens," You are not the #1 media source on the planet, as your grammar would seem to indicate, nor are you the utmost that is currently, "driven by teens," as you claim.</li><li>You list several topics I am wholly uninterested in, such as horoscopes and the "Celebrity Junkyard," and I feel putting these items in the same list as "Politics" and "Health" is inappropriate, in that it gives the reader the impression that these things are weighted equally by your administration. As a whole, your subjects seem somewhat random and unimportant, and there are many relevant topics missing, such as World News and Economics.</li><li>There is no information available for potential writers on the business end of the site, and how things like server costs would be handled. For a three article per week commitment, the writers should have at least some idea of how these things would be handled.</li><li>The FAQ notes that no personal stabs could be made, and yet you have a Celebrity Junkyard section. The very name invokes thoughts of a derogatory and offensive section aimed at a select few individuals.</li></ul><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">I have many Caveats with the site, including and beyond those listed here, but I want you to know that I support the concept. I would be happy to write for the site, providing it was more professional and sincere. If at any point you feel that you have evolved the site into something I might approve more of, even in the slightest, please feel free to email me at this address.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Thank you,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);">Dram</span><br /><br />I'm not sure what the exact message here is, but if you're going to try to start a group project, particularly one with over 100 contributors, it's important to be professional.<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-5270364213113400815?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-73866085351102388922008-06-05T19:30:00.000-07:002009-06-12T22:22:22.970-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqY7JglbGI/AAAAAAAAADs/nAPEJ413nl8/s1600-h/comic9.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqY7JglbGI/AAAAAAAAADs/nAPEJ413nl8/s200/comic9.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222654859821804642" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-style: italic;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">In which I spend 20 sweaty minutes with my shirt off and get a free trenchcoat.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br />It's 2:40 pm on a thursday, and I'm trudging half-naked down a suburban street with 40 lbs in trenchcoats over one shoulder. I'm as confused as you are.<br />"Why the fuck did you get <span style="font-style: italic;">six</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">trenchcoats</span>?" I manage between grunts.<br />"Because then we can <span>all </span>have matching trenchcoats!" exclaims </span></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Jimmy, his face a study in radiant innocence.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">"You're a fucking idiot!" I spit at him through my own grin, as we turn the corner onto the 18th block of our trek.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">We're on our way to his place, halfway across town from where I met up with both him, and ultimately six free coats. Being that my weak geek arms are somehow stronger than his massive Jock ones, I've been elected to carry the cardboard box full of formal fashion, and as long as the polls are open I have elected be at least half naked when doing so.<br /><br />Someone decided to give away thirty or so of the garments, which they apparently had just <span style="font-style: italic;">lying around</span> in a closet somewhere. </span>Why <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">remains a mystery.<br /><br />Our continuing mission... continues, as we seek out his house at a rate that would normally embarrass us both.<br /><br />At one point he makes me an offer, "Don't worry man, when we get to my place you can help yourself to a drink,".<br />My sweaty chest heaves with insincere fury, "You're goddamn right I can! Dammit Jimmy, I am not looking THIS sexy for THIS long without recompense!"<br /><br />Ultimately, he carried the box for about 1/6 of a mile out of the 2 mile journey. Pussy. I love my new coat.<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-7386608535110238892?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-62267894383255549822008-06-05T18:53:00.000-07:002008-07-13T17:30:29.657-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqeEZiDDfI/AAAAAAAAAD8/8rN1vE3RlQ8/s1600-h/comic11.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqeEZiDDfI/AAAAAAAAAD8/8rN1vE3RlQ8/s200/comic11.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222660516299869682" border="0" /></a><br />I got into D&amp;D for the first time a few weeks ago. Contrary to what you'd expect, I am <span style="font-weight: bold;">not </span>starting with the shiny new fourth edition, but with the more available 3.5.<br /><br />I've been a geek for a long time, so of course I'm aware of the game, but nonetheless I'm blown away by what I've found in it; I understood the concept, but only by putting together my first campaign as a DM am I finally realizing what a lush storytelling outlet it is.<br /><br />I'm the dungeon master for five players at last count, so no pressure, right? Even though I've been frantically learning every rule I can, I'm still finding time to put together what I hope is an engaging and diverse fantasy world, far outside the cliche bar brawl-filled tavern cluster that most campaigns seem to be set in.<br /><br />I won't bore you with the details, but for now:<br /><br />LOOK AT MY SHINY MAP!<br /><br /><a target="_blank" title="ImageShack - Image And Video Hosting" href="http://imageshack.us/"><img src="http://img144.imageshack.us/img144/8959/picture0003gx6.jpg" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-6226789438325554982?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-52221243134744444202008-05-29T07:14:00.000-07:002009-06-12T22:24:38.536-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqbUed2g1I/AAAAAAAAAD0/-cWqZ5ofPWg/s1600-h/comic10.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqbUed2g1I/AAAAAAAAAD0/-cWqZ5ofPWg/s200/comic10.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222657493967471442" border="0" /></a><br />My grandfather is one tough bastard. He has informed me several times now with absolute conviction and seriousness that he could beat the everloving shit out of me, were he so inclined, and he really could.<br /><br />My grandpappy lives in the northern wastes of New Hampshire, so northern in fact, that the area he lives in is not within the jurisdiction of a town. He gets his mail out of a trailer that doubles as the town hall.<br /><br />He moved to this wilderness because he likes it, not for the picturesque scenery, but because it fucking SUCKS up there; all he does is complain about the weather, man-eating mosquitoes, mountain lions, ATV wielding teenagers, stupid campers, and that's not even counting the many hardships he's given himself directly.<br /><br />He has an outdoor shower that he built himself. He uses this <span style="font-style: italic;">several</span> times per year. It consists of four wooden walls built below a bucket on a rope.<br /><br />He lives in a log cabin with no electricity, a mile of dirt road away from a slightly less dirt road.<br /><br />He carries a pistol in case of mountain lions.<br /><br />He scares the shit out of me.<br /><br />He's visiting tomorrow.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-5222124313474444420?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-35210624680208515932008-05-26T14:18:00.000-07:002008-07-13T17:43:07.460-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqhFTVDmCI/AAAAAAAAAEE/nFtmlXWp6oU/s1600-h/comic12.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqhFTVDmCI/AAAAAAAAAEE/nFtmlXWp6oU/s200/comic12.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222663830349518882" border="0" /></a><br />There's no such thing as a non-geek, everyone is geeky about something. Whether or not someone is commonly referred to by the nomenclature is more dependent on what it is they follow with such a passion, not the depths of that passion. A sports fan is a geek, provided he can list more than 50 stats. A chef is a geek, if they know enough recipes by heart.<br /><br />To understand this passion is to understand the geek, so I offer here my not so humble opinions on the growth of such a lust.<br /><br />Step 1. The preconditioning: Before the mark can latch onto the thing, they must be conditioned to appreciate its elements. In the case of Star Trek, for example, a fan must have an appreciation for the technology around them and a yearning for it to grow and develop. Similarly, they must have experienced involved interpersonal plot before, either good or bad, in order to make the distinction when finally exposed to that of Trek.<br /><br />Step 2. The snare: This may occur in any time, place, or situation. It may take any form, but in some way the mark is exposed to the future object of their worship. At this time, the mark usually falls into one of two categories: instant fan or dormant fan. The instant fan will immediately recognize the work as something they enjoy deeply, or at least acknowledge that in their eyes it possesses quality. The dormant fan will be exposed fully to the work, but either they do not understand key aspects or have yet to fully complete step 1, and are as yet unconditioned for the thing.<br /><br />Step 3. The top of the hill: This may occur immediately as a portion of step 2, but often will not. This stage occurs when the mark comes into possession of a means for receiving content of or related to the thing. In the case of Star Trek, this may represent a torrent download, a video store with an extensive collection of tapes, or even an offer from a friend for regular access to their own source. It is at this point that the process accelerates dramatically.<br /><br />Step 4. The descent: With the hymen now broken, the source looms higher and higher. The mark begins to learn, furiously devouring everything he can from the source and hollowing out his psyche for a place to put it all. Typically this process lasts only a few weeks or months before Step 5. is reached.<br /><br />Step 5. Geekdom: The mark has garnered an impressive amount of knowledge about the thing; this knowledge breeds a sense of familiarity, which only fuels their now raging sense of devotion. This familiarity will almost always serve as a Step 1 for a future passion.<br /><br />It is important to note that familiarity is likely the most powerful factor in geekdom; being familiar with a work lets someone feel infinitely more connected to it, and such a bond can never be fully severed by either party.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-3521062468020851593?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-88305962725534518962008-05-25T18:38:00.000-07:002008-07-13T17:50:09.172-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqivAvv-4I/AAAAAAAAAEM/vTEvwT61LjA/s1600-h/comic13.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqivAvv-4I/AAAAAAAAAEM/vTEvwT61LjA/s200/comic13.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222665646427339650" border="0" /></a><br />At last count, I possess 153 pounds of human flesh.<br /><br />Today I ate three plates of nachos (about 1 package of cheese per plate, I love cheese), a box of cereal (with milk, of course), a package of salami, half a box of cookies, and a chicken. This is not unusual.<br /><br />Hail to the king baby.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-8830596272553451896?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-41730420329850104592008-05-17T09:47:00.000-07:002008-07-13T18:10:38.488-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqnhsayb3I/AAAAAAAAAEc/AQxowTnPv-o/s1600-h/comic15.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqnhsayb3I/AAAAAAAAAEc/AQxowTnPv-o/s200/comic15.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222670915190550386" border="0" /></a><br />Or wait... would mental stability be the mistress? Whatever. Regardless of my lover's name she's getting her meat at another deli.<br /><br />I'm batshit and proud, though not so much proud. More renowned. All my friends know not to let me near a digital clock in the afternoon, ask me what time it is, or tell me Yahoo is better than Google in a macabre imitation of the now classic scene from The Waterboy. Not only would I fly into a tackling rage, I would, for a brief instant in time, know what a field goal was.<br /><br />I've always been a little screwy, as a kid I would spend hours wondering if everything I was thinking, including something I seemed to have thought only a second before, had really transpired in my cranium or if I was only imagining it. Never really got over that phase. My whole childhood seemed a bit alien to me, like everything had been moved about an inch to the left. I didn't listen to popular music, didn't watch any popular movies, and couldn't have told you what a vagina was. My only TV was black and white until I was about 9 years old, and I assure you I'm nowhere near old enough for that to be acceptable; about thirty years too young actually.<br /><br />Finally, at age 11, my family got a real computer. Up until then all I'd ever seen was the green and black monster in my parents' bedroom, with no games and capable of almost half the functions of Notepad. Think Strongbad's Compy. Soon after the shiny, multicolor powerhouse arrived came sweet, sweet dial-up, which if you're lucky enough not to know is a tiny peephole through which one can try to glimpse the internet. It was at this point in my life that I saw boob. Thirty seconds later the picture finished loading, and I was man.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-4173042032985010459?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-55777129112785462102008-04-24T16:26:00.000-07:002009-06-12T22:34:14.728-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqtMyVKR-I/AAAAAAAAAE0/Ojy1ed38gAs/s1600-h/comic18.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHqtMyVKR-I/AAAAAAAAAE0/Ojy1ed38gAs/s200/comic18.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222677153070073826" border="0" /></a><br />I don't get very much spam, really, and I use Gmail, so 99.9% of the time when I actually <span style="font-style: italic;">do</span> manage to collect some it goes straight to the spam folder. That isn't my issue with the stuff. The only real problem I have with spam is that it's quantity over quality. I know that's how it works, I mean, that's the <span style="font-style: italic;">definition</span> of spam, but for me, NONE of the stuff advertised is anything I'd ever want, and that depresses me a little bit. There are the obvious ones; I don't want a bigger dick for example. I like my dick. I'm not in love with the thing but I think I have just about the perfect size: average. If it were smaller, I'd be insecure. If it were larger, I'd be... well... a dick about it. Along with that, while I have a <span style="font-style: italic;">slight</span> desire for larger breasts their introduction wouldn't be very easy to explain, and I have weird hairs on my nipples, <span style="font-style: italic;">antennae-like, dark, and strange.<br /><br /></span>But I still don't mind those that much. I actually really like the funnier ones, and sometimes even archive them to show to people. Then there's the ritzy spam, the creme de la crass. Specifically I would cite the churning black tub of Amazon's spam server. I've bought a few things from the site: games, books (my Klingon dictionary comes to mind), many lightsabers, and one or two miscellaneous other things, and so I get of emails from them, probably four per week at least, telling me about meaningless sales.<br /><br />Again, this is not what I mind. Amazon sends me these emails occasionally telling me about things in some nearby dimension I might <span style="font-style: italic;">actually buy</span>, and when they think they have found something in their vaults they let me know, and I am, once again, okay with that. These emails are usually prefaced with something like, "Hey Dram, you've bought games before from us, we have more games now"<br />"Are they... shiny?" I ask.<br />"More shiny than you can possibly imagine," They assert.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span></span>"Were they released more than a decade ago?"<br />"Um... no, I assure you they're brand spanking (kinky expression by the way) new!" my best buddy Amazon (which he insists can be a guy's name too) responds.<br />"Oh, sorry, I pretty much just play old games. I don't even own a next gen system, let alone a PC that could run this stuff,"<br />"Oh sorry to bother you,"<br />"That's okay, I still like to keep informed on new games,"<br />And I archive them.<br />No real problem.<br />But THEN the next day it happens, the one thing I hate about spam. I log onto my Gmail, expecting my Calvin and Hobbes, my daily SAT question (no, I'm not that young, I just like the questions), some casual email from some friends, and if he's feeling motivated today maybe some news on game sales from my buddy Amazon.<br />But I get more than that.<br />My friend Amazon has a relative: AMAZOD, spelled with a sinister beard. I think it stands for something, but I'm afraid to ask.<br />Amazod isn't like my buddy Amazon, As soon as I read the subject line I'm on my <span style="font-style: italic;">knees</span>, mouth and eyes wide open. WHY would I want to save 20% on Mother's Day collectible dolls?!? WHY AMAZOD, WHY!<br />I know this sounds stupid. I know it sounds like a total double standard to laugh at emails singing the praises of pills to bring the status of super saiyan to my penis, pecker, or Pr0nSt/cK as it is occasionally referred to (one email called it my pet turtle) and be utterly dismayed by near misses from Amazonia. I really don't get my problem either, but the solution is obvious; I need to get myself some heavy duty, full AI, sinister, Master Control level spyware.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-5577712911278546210?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2256906748910940628.post-66687124411238605902008-04-24T16:07:00.000-07:002008-07-14T10:45:18.706-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHuQjwnS5MI/AAAAAAAAAFg/34RdpQvcOXM/s1600-h/comic19.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZbHxjxTg5f4/SHuQjwnS5MI/AAAAAAAAAFg/34RdpQvcOXM/s320/comic19.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222927136885761218" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>I decided to go ahead and start a blog, just because I think of a lot of shit to write and I have no place to put it, and I have no real website. So yeah. Hey.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2256906748910940628-6668712441123860590?l=dramspot.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Dramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17692456406319030549noreply@blogger.com0