WHERE INSIGHTS COME TO DIE
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ChronoCatfish 20030805 |
Hey there, fellow puny mortals. I figure now is as good a time as any to begin my pointless and probably painful ranting career. An author's ranting is a sacred, symbolic time, and will have nothing whatsoever to do with the actual comic except in rare cases. So before I begin to try my eloquence and your patience, the information you actually care about... (UPDATED MONDAYS AND THURSDAYS).
With that out in the open, I'll start by giving some information about my recent activities that no one cares about. (If you do care about it, you are probably still reading this, in which case you have too much time on your hands. Go read, like, a Robert Jordan book, or something.) Recently, I was struck by temporary insanity. Is this in any way unusual, you ask? Note the key word 'temporary'. Instead of ordering pizza like a real gamer, I purchased one of those oven-ready pizza thingies. In placing it in the preheated oven, I somehow managed to burn myself. In taking it out of the oven, subsequently, I managed to burn myself once again. I then checked that most sacred source of information, the box. The box imparted to me these words of wisdom: Let cool for five minutes. The box, however, neglected to mention how many times I was to do this, as, sitting down to reap the burn-inducing fruits of my labour, I (wait for it) burned myself several times with the nigh-flaming sauce (hands, face, inside of mouth). Oh great box, my intelligence is insufficient to comprehend thy teachings. I am unworthy. I shall return to thee once my mastery of offensive pizza use, has neared thine.  If you have any suggestions for the comic, the site, or the further offensive applications of pizza, email me. |