Life Outside PLT1

I hate lying to charity workers

Let’s face it, everyone does it. Some charity drive is in full swing, crosses your path and you don’t have the heart to say “no” flat out; I guess it’s in our nature as humans to both suppress and embrace our inner douchebag.

I mean, it’s not like we all personally hate the idea of charities fulfilling their intended purposes but it’s really not by any stroke of bad luck that we go “sorry, I don’t have any change” or “i’m really busy right now but i’ll check out your website when I get home” or “i’ve just had my prostate and testicles removed and my doctor has discouraged me from reaching into my pant pockets so if you want me to donate you’ll have to help me carefully remove my pants and extract my wallet from them and then help me carefully put my pants back on”.
These are all pretty lame excuses but at the heart of it all we’re just trying to avoid having to say “look, I have nothing against your organisation but we as first-world borne citizens of the free world have been taught our entire lives, by people with vested interests in our success, to not be altruistic and to strive against all odds to hang on to what is ours.”

There’s no point hiding it anymore, so let’s take turns admiting it:
My name is Simon and i’m a douchebag.

NO UPDATES! HOLY SHIT I GOTTA WRITE SOMETHING! GAY PORN MAILING LIST!

Well what can I write here to break the uncanny silence imposed by whatever the fuck is going on that masquerades as laziness?

Well; a few days ago I got sent a nigerian scam letter from a woman claiming to be from the ivory coast so I replied by sending a picture of Tank Abbott and a copy of my critically acclaimed short story “Wang Justice”. That wasn’t my original plan but I got bored with my original plan; in pursuit of my original plan “gay porn mailing list” entered my google search history. I haven’t cleared my search history yet, I only ever do so about twice a year since i’m not really paranoid about it being found out people really won’t find out anything interesting from it that they don’t already know, it’s not exactly a huge secret that I really really like pornography, in fact the only real difference that seperates pornography from art is that I like it. But the thing that may strike investigators as a suprise would be the phrase “gay porn mailing list” so i’d like to state for the record right now that I am not a gay porn afficianado and I do not typically sign myself up to receive updates about explicit man-on-man relations.

It feels good to put that in public writing; interestingly enough “gay porn mailing list” isn’t such an exciting search term to browse, part of my decision to abandon my original plan (re: nigerian scam letter) was the fact that I could not promptly find a gay porn mailing list to use as part of my scheme within 4 clicks, 4 clicks is pretty much all the effort I traditionally spend on recreational google searches to use as part of any scheme designed only to give me a cheap thrill. I guess people whose email addresses I do have can take solace in the fact that I am unable to find my own gay porn mailing list, in fact i’m not that great at finding gay porn full stop; my previous curiosity regarding gay porn in 720p was in fact not satisfied by a search of my own. I guess it’s not unreasonable to assume that my subconcious and latent homophobia have linked arms to create a barrier between me and the image of multiple young black thugs enjoying the other’s taut and masculine flesh while they take turns pounding each other in the sphincter - in HD.

This article contains exactly 420 words. I’d like to see you assholes do that.

SON OF WANG 8: I’m drunk and writing this on the spot wihtout any forethrought

Continuing on from where i was that then; the parking lot was so wide in my vision it would almost seem as though the world was widening. It was so wide that when it sits around the house it literally sits around the house; but it’s the world i’m talking about so that makes it okay.

I popped a mint into my mouth and began crunching on the hard tablet; so impatient I was to enjoy the flavour explosion, but that’s besides the point at hand. I have to track down my father.

I took off down the road as briskly as I could, knowing my father and his crackhead-like store of physical energy, I would have to go steadily, not at a sprint. I followed the ever widening space between drops of blood away from the sunset; or was it that the sunset was moving away from me? I don’t care and neither should you. As I continued along at my ever more desperate pace my long john became manlier and manlier. I feared that soon it would overwhelm my being and I would become nothing more than a massive dick, but I digress.

I was becoming tired continuing down the road and across the street until I came to the place where gay people meet; they saw my giant rocket and wouldn’t you know, they became frightened as cats and buried their heads in the snow.

The end.

Or is it?

No it’s not

SON OF WANG: Part 7

I was standing in the hospital hallway wide eyed and adjusting my pants when my vision faded to white and with it, my feelings of shock and urgency.

Hallucinations or daydreams have begun to kick in it would appear, but what am I seeing now? Is this the real life? Or is this just fantasy? I’m seeing white and I feel as though I’m on my back, the sky is layered with clouds and my head seems to be on fire - no wait, maybe It only feels like it’s on fire – upon feeling my head with my right hand; no, my head is not on fire.

Propping myself up with my right arm I didn’t see any robotic alien walkers or smoke trail residue or interior walls for that matter. I almost began to wonder where I was but the feeling of concrete chips stinging my buttocks reassured me I was nestled in the safe environs of a suburban parking lot frequented by the homeless and the sick; the sun was setting and there looked to be no vehicles and no people nearby.
Turning my head back I see the hospital with all doors and glass panes intact and began to wonder what it was I thought I saw and how the hell I got from in there to out here.

The obvious action to take would be to go back inside and see what went on and so I did do that; I did that like it was the right thing to do because doing that was the only thing I could think of doing and if I didn’t know how to do any different then it couldn’t possibly be wrong to do, right? Well in retrospect, it was the right thing to do.
Pushing open the door, the feelings of urgency reawakened when I saw a wide blood smear 4 feet from the door the changing shade of orange as my eyes darted up it’s length suggested it originating from somewhere down the hall. Hospital staff was nowhere to be seen and no patients either for that matter, which was odd, seeing as how I could easily walk behind the unattended counter and start making toll calls; luckily for them I resisted that impulse and decided to follow the blood smear down the hall.
Past rooms filled with covered beds and beeping grey boxes, the blood smear ended at a mess of red and orange droplets right outside my father’s room, where I’d fallen and couldn’t get back up, I took off my shirt and looked at the back of it; the long fingers of dried blood confirmed to me that I’d been dragged from this spot to where I regained consciousness in the parking lot, still, there was no medical staff in sight and I hadn’t seen any on the way over from the front door. I looked to the vending machine; the glass was shattered and all the sandwiches were gone. I smelled a confusing medley of smells coming from the room; a combination of blood and other fluids, alongside my curiosity and against my better judgement; I investigated.

I looked to the bed; it was empty. My father was gone.
I looked to the foot of the bed; motionless bodies of uniformed medical staff.
I looked closer; it appears that they all died with crushed skulls, broken spines and severe swelling of the torso.

From almost outside my field of vision, a man rushed me and pinned me to the wall. His eyes were wide as breath mints and when he talked his breath smelled like breath mints.

“HE KILLED THEM! HE KILLED THEM ALL!”
“What the fuck? Get off me you poorly dressed…
Hrmm… what’s a funny thing to call someone who smells like breath mints?
…Pine tree!”
“NO! NO! NO! YOU HAVE TO LISTEN!”
I struggled
“Let go of me.”
”HEY!”
“WHAT?”
“LISTEN!”

He pressed a gun into my meaty flank.

“I’m listening.”
He pulled the gun away
“You’re the boy; yes… You’re his boy; the boy with the fire hydrant in his pants yes. Do you know what he’s done?”
”Well yeah, I may have a fairly good idea; he ‘killed them, killed them all’?”
“He’s gone… Can’t you see? He’s out there and he- He’ll do… He’ll do again, he’ll do again what he did to them.”
Looking to the bodies on the ground, the man burst into tears.
“Alright man, pull yourself together; let me go and I’ll go find him”
“And… and then what?”
“I don’t know… It’s hard to think; I don’t know what I’ll do but I have to find him.”
“Will you m-make him stop?”
“I don’t know, but I’m his son; I might be the only one who can”
He releases me
“You’re right… You’re right.”
“Can you help me? What’s your name?”
“My name is Jack Jackson.”
“Ok Jack, let’s go.”

I begin walking away towards the entrance when Jack says something.

“NO!
I turn around and see Jack pointing his pistol towards his head.
… I’VE SEEN TOO MUCH.”

With a mighty bang, Jack was gone forever.

With great astonishment, I walked over to where his lifeless body lay and kneeled down beside him. I opened my mouth; I said only two words.

“Thanks Jack”

With that I looted his body, taking away with me his wallet, gun and box of breath mints.
With a gun in my hand and a mouth full of fresh breath, I walked out into the empty sunset streets.

I’m moderating the crap out of this post.

Hello god damn.

You may be wondering what the hell i’m doing here; but you know what? So am I.
There’s a very underrated concept coming to mind when I scroll down the page, in the outside world people refer to this concept as “QC”. This is mostly because people are either lazy or live in harsh desert environments where it is important to preserve your internal moisture by minimising breathing, perspiration and open-mouthed talking as saying what QC stands for in full would cause you to lose approximately 0.0013 cc of moisture over simply saying QC, considering how much i’m going to use the acronym QC in this here article that would add up to a fairly significant amount of water, bile, blood and trace urine you will have saved up if you were to read this post out loud over the hypothetical post containing QC in it’s exploded (expanded) form.

QC does quite a bit more than simply providing a topic with which to surround with cryptic paragraphs; here’s a few things that QC has done for us:
- Regulated the amount of rodent faeces food ingredients may be exposed to in storage
- Limited the maximum length of time frozen units of sperm may be stored for
- Blocked the release of horrible non-franchise computer games in non-holiday periods
- Blocked the release of Son of Wang: Parts 7-99
- Blocked the release of Son of Wang: The Illustrated Series
- Blocked the release of Son of Wang: The Movie
- Blocked the release of pictures of my own wang

And therein lies the point of QC. Self-censorship in some ways but in many other ways applying a buttplug to the anus that wants to shit all over the concept of good taste.
But on the other hand, too much QC can be bad; take for instance all the excellent and promising TV shows Fox has cancelled over the years but then again some could argue that intelligent QC would have saved those shows leading us to the conclusion that Fox QC is backwards in nature working to preserve the shit in which case it’s not QC at all.

So let’s all come together and QC intelligently and QC alot. But not too much.

QC

NOTE:
Son of Wang: Parts 7-99/The Illustrated Series/The Movie do not exist and never will. Pictures of my own wang do not exist -to my knowledge- but may one day exist or may already exist. My own wang does exist.

Nostalgia sucks

I remember playing this game on Sega Master System more than a decade ago, my cousin rented it from United Video;

I remember it being a pretty fun game; the gameplay was simplistic and character selection small (4 characters) but being that at the time we were obsessively playing the far more complex and skill testing Mortal Kombat, it was a refreshing change. But that’s all besides the point, what’s wrong with the game? On the cover image, the fat guy is about to deliver a fatal crotch punch. Nostalgia sucks.

Paladin stuff in wotlk

Loflk, here’s another beta post.

So let’s recap; one of my character copies was my paladin, Octavio. On the live realms; a prot paladin covered in epics. Here he is chilling in Shattrath:

But… he’s not Octavio anymore. That’s the beta realm he’s standing around in; having been forced to get a name change, his name is Bonder. LOFL

But anyway, upon logging in I found that all my talent points had been refunded. So I wasted no time in taking advantage of this. After making the rounds picking up new talents and swapping gear into my bags, I headed off to Vengeance Landing and put on my clown suit;
Continue reading Paladin stuff in wotlk…

NORTHREND?

So yeah wtf man i’m in the wotlk beta.

Short post now since I have to leave shortly, but i’m gonna go ahead and document a few things; surely some of you are curious about Death Knights and it just so happens that I made one.

Almost entirely out of spite, I created a female Blood Elf Death Knight named Septavia; yes I created it out of spite because my paladin, Octavio, was flagged for a name change and I ended up giving him the name that I reserved on a live realm for a future DK but that’s a story for another post.

Anywho; here’s a few key points (spoiler free) that you should know about:

- In the “hit things alot” department, DKs seem to play alot like rogues, with multiple low damage melee abilities.
- Even post-nerf, DKs are really really really strong; with the right rotation you can end up with no downtime at all. I’m talking walk into a group of 3 mobs on full health and walk away in good enough condition to fight another 2.
- The later DK starting area quests are really really cool.
- After finishing the DK starting zone, you will be level 58 or close to it.
- The last few DK starting zone quests are really really cool. Even if you don’t want a DK, you absolutely need to do the starting zone for the lore and such, it’s delicious.

Screenshot:

EMOTION: MONSTER EDITION

Well, looks like it’s time for another drawing related post.

Here i’ve tried to explore the realm of facial expression and have used the basic humanoid facial arrangement to convey some simple emotions; here we go:

Fuck pens. Also, resized gigantic image incoming.

Yeah yeah; here’s something i’ve been chipping away at.
Drawn in my old fixed perspective wooden doll style but hey, old habits die hard. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks because he’ll get tired. There’s more than one way to skin a cat but they’re all illegal.
Also, fuck cat and dog metaphors.

Gigantic version here:
http://www.plt1.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/template2.jpg