I'm the most horrible Magic player that there ever was and will ever be. Whoa that's a pretty big statement there mister man. Well son you just sit yourself down right there and peep this. I think the proof is in the pudding inasmuch as the Cuba's in the Gooding.
So there I was
ogling your moms minding my own business on Facebook when out of the blue (Facebook's logo is blue oh no I didn't!) Aaron Forsythe shot me a message like he never had to worry about the Brady Bill:
--------------Official looking electronic mail header-------------
From: Angry Hermit was awesome!
To: But Friggorid was so moar br0k3n evar!
Date: August 13 2011 GMT minus 5 hours = the length of the courtroom scene in True Grit
Come to GP – Pittsburgh because it will be like 2001 and we can all of us make out with each other a lot! In fact here's a deck0rz you can play cuz black cards r00lz!!!!!!!!11!1!!1!
Rizzo Black (designed by Aaron Forsythe specifically for bad players like me)
- 2 Leaden Myr
- 2 Vault Skirge
- 3 Bloodghast
- 4 Gatekeeper of Malakir
- 1 Grave Titan
- 3 Phyrexian Obliterator
- 2 Vampire Nighthawk
- 3 Viscera Seer
The above email may have been faker than every porn star who accidentally looked at the camera when she was supposed to be moaning in ecstasy. LOL porn “star.” Interestingly to me today's wacky yutes seem obsessed with becoming famous or a star or an embarrassment to the human race — so if they can't get on a reality show to destroy their pride then I suppose the adult entertainment industry might offer a helping hand Tennessee Valley Authority-style (or the TVA to those in the know or those who ever attended 7th grade).
Listen children being famous is the ass end of the suck. I was only barely famous for fifteen minutes as a jackass Magic writer in a world of virgins and jpeg tossers and then barely famous as a minor playwright in a world of “social justice” morons… and both eventually came to suck more than Snooki at the International Suck Convention (this year held jointly with the Explore The Diseases Growing In Paris Hilton's Warm Cleft Interactive In 3D With Dolby Surround Sound Symposium).
So if you get a chance to be on a reality show go ahead you whore.
And yet I write an article.
STFU for noticing.
So you just take five five five five and shuffle up? Wizards Quality Assurance: not what it used to be.
*****************Spoiler alert! ******************
No one sacrificed so much as a single permanent to Obliterator in nine rounds.
***************end Spoiler alert!*****************
I considered testing against net decks but who does that and apparently Apprentice no longer exists because it's no longer 2002 so how would I test anyway and who even knows what the net decks are except all of you because that's what you do: know what the net decks are and test against them. Good job you guys!
A couple years ago I drove down to StarCityGames and sold Ben most of my cards for like three grand because Maine has a lot of jobs and hey a brother gotta do what a brother gotta did. Most of the cards I sold are worth about a thousand million dollars because I am a shrewd investor. Now that I'm rich again and live in Virginia where everyone is rich I ask myself if I regret it. The answer is no. I regret nothing I ever did because it made me who I am today.
Because I'm so hipster.
I went to GP-Chantilly/D.C. a while back.
Because it's forty minutes away.
No one lent me a deck.
Probably because I didn't ask anyone.
So I drafted.
Without knowing any of the cards.
Bought Chapin's book.
Speaking of which.
Then went home.
Yes that hipster.
So hipster that Adrian Sullivan's laptop is banned from Starbucks.
Know how before a big event you're all like “Man I'm totally gonna make day two then top eight then bring home the big-ass fake check pow bam and booyah?”
First off no you're not. And secondly stop talking like that. It's annoying.
So in case you think I hold ideas above my station know that I don't dare dream of day twos or top eights or fake checks or even doing well. My goals are more realistic ergo:
1) Get to the site
2) Register the deck
3) Play badly
4) Cheat a lot
5) Hurt the feelings of any children I may encounter
6) Cheat moar
7) Get caught
8) Make a scene by loudly declaring my innocence
9) Because it's a conspiracy
10) Get banned
11) Write an “I was totally framed!” article
12) Get shunned by the community
13) Sue Wizards 'cause I'm shunned yo
14) Appeal the decision after it gets tossed out of court
15) LOL “tossed out”
16) Start a website called wizardssunsabitches.edu
17) Psyche! I don't know HTML very well
18) Plus I'm kinda lazy
19) So never mind
20) But I'll probably still cheat
I put on my official Wizards of the Coast polo that I stole from Nationals like five years ago then off I went homeward bound with the wind at my back and an endless procession of construction barrels ahead. When you enter Pennsylvania from anywhere be prepared for an immediate and overpowering aura of corruption that threatens to fill your lungs and choke your ass out like Darth Vader became his own state. Er “Commonwealth.”
If you're too nave to know about Star Wars get off your ass and know about it — but until then I'll offer a more contemporary example: it's like the stench from Morpheus's dome Agent Smith-style.
I found the site 'cause I like used to live in Pittsburgh! When I went to pay a couple Professional Event Services (or “PES” to the “in” community) peeps noticed my Wizards shirt which is kinda like why I wore it. No people I am not here “on official business” — though I did threaten to make a terrible ruling or perform a random deck check if s**t started to get real.
Speaking of which.
And I have to bring my own deck!!!!!
Well borrow a deck.
I then entered the rest room and was momentarily joined by Mike Guptil pimp and undefeated PES champion ten years running who was on the lookout for “some old f**ker wearing a Wizards shirt.” It seems that the registration people were a bit concerned as well they should be. I told him I hadn't seen anyone who meets that description.
The event hasn't even started and already I feel like I cheated. This is gonna be awesome.
Since when did girls start playing Magic? You know save your “Girls are human beings too!” arguments because I'm about to get all man on your asses. If there were say two thousand people at the event I'd wager that at least two hundred had wimmen parts.
In my day any Magic event that sported 10% wimmen parts was probably organized by Gloria Steinem.
Of course there were also significant numbers of wimmen parts waiting in the hallways outside the event room where they could read Tiger Beat update their Facebook status with “omgz I'm soooo board [sic]!” wrangle the infants and their strollers and to simply stand by their man by listening to their “…and then in the third game I got mana screwed” laments.
Their replies were most likely of the “That's the only screw you're getting today you bastard” variety since they had to like spend a billion hours commiserating with fellow wimmen parts and discussing what it would be like to have a real boyfriend. You know the kinds that drink watch football and beat on them in drunken fits when their team loses.
I've decided that no one gives two rat's fat asses about the actual gameplay nor actually reads a tournament report for the play-by-play. Mostly I decided that there was too much stuff that happened most of which would be boring to
read write and which included cards that I can't remember and don't feel like looking up.
Rather I figure I'll show you how horrible I am at Magic. Every match will have at least one example of my pure horribleness. See now that's going to be fun! Who else loves you this much?
Round One: Justin Shuster G/R Ramp
In game one Justin played Avenger of Zendikar.
I picked it up and read it.
Since I was stuck on three lands I picked it up a few turns later and read it again. When he attacked for a million I picked it up and read it again to death.
In game two my opening hand consisted of Doom Blade Go For the Throat and Dismember with lands and creatures aplenny. Things are going along quite nicely with a big ol' pro: green Bloodghast when Justin plays another Agent.
I pick it up and read it.
He makes a bunch of tokens.
I pick it up and read it again.
When he attacks with seven 7/7s I pick it up and read it again.
I Doom Blade it.
With the same Doom Blade I had in my opening hand.
And could have used every turn since the Avenger came into play.
He: Kewl but the tokens still have the +1/+1 counters.
Me: LOL you silly! Lies! They's 0/1s now fool!
He hands me the card.
I read it again.
For about the tenth time this match.
Look at all them tokens there.
My Doom Blade.
My life total.
Which is assuredly south of 49.
I am horrible at Magic.
Pretty good at reading though.
But apparently I suck a fat one at comprehension.
I sent myself a text so I would remember this foible for the report. Like I could possibly forget it.
There are two things you can count on during a big Magic event:
1) The bathroom stench
2) Someone will have a broken leg
For this particular event the stench was more than omnipresent and palpable. It got on your clothes in your eyes into your circulatory system and was strong enough that it most certainly will have an adverse effect on both your sperm count and likelihood of having mutated offspring — if you ever get laid that is. And judging by the stench your diets consist mainly of entrails and human waste. So if you ever do get laid don't.
Not content to be “that guy with the broken leg” there were no less than three players sporting the fun constricting leg wear and OMFG it itches gimme a coat hanger and no you can't sign my cast unless you're rk Post!
(Rk Post was actually at the event signing stuff so I assume you see what I did there.)
Round Two: Ryan King U/W Control But Wait! Fatties!
Ryan was in a wheelchair due to what appeared to be a broken leg. I didn't ask mostly because I want to be able to come to my own conclusions of a) what is the injury and b) how it happened.
Thus I'll say his shinbone was shattered in the London riots by Apple Store looters. Obviously Ryan works in the Apple Store in London but is really good at an American accent. Like Christian Bale. Unless of course it was Justin from round one who had the broken leg and I'm simply misremembering.
In order to prevent future questions of journalistic integrity I'll simplify by giving all of my opponents broken legs and tell you what I think happened.
In game one I suited up Bloodghast with so many artifacts that Nicolas Cage went to look for him.
Aaron and Neil Forsythe showed up toward the end of game one just in time to see me being awesome. Handshakes and idle chatter complete they wandered away apparently safe in the knowledge that I am indeed a fantastic Magic player and benevolent human being. More one than the other as it turns out.
In game two Frost Titan is really good.
In game three Ryan played Venser the Sojourner. I picked it up and read it a few times then he RFG'd something to get him up to five counters. The next turn I attacked unimpeded with Obliterator and Bloodghast which would take him down to nine life.
He: Are you attacking Venser?
Me: Take seven in your own face son!
The next turn he cast
Wrath of God No Offense To Your Deity and RFG'd to get to seven.
I did nothing my next turn but seethe.
He did nothing but RFG to get to nine.
I cast something insignificant.
He got an emblem.
I asked “What the hell is an emblem?”
He said “It makes you lose.”
I cast stuff it got RFG'd he cast stuff and RFG'd me.
Note to self:
I am horrible at Magic.
It's not like I hadn't seen planeswalkers in action before. In fact me and Lilly go way back. Thus I should know that you pretty much kinda wanna kill the s**t out of planeswalkers when you get the chance. I suppose I figured that an RFG for every spell cast isn't really that good in Constructed though a beating in Limited.
Or I suppose I just f**king suck at anything that fits in my mouth.
I ambled over to the Gunslinga! table where Aaron was beating upon hapless children like he owned a salt mine and child labor laws were repealed because iPhones and video games are crushing the souls of the next generation. You tell me how a mono-green EDH deck can use creatures to turn his opponent's lands into artifacts then blow them up by tapping other creatures. At the end of the game Aaron had about forty permanents while his opponent had zero.
WHAT A FUN DECK TO PLAY AGAINST!
It might be meaner than a deck built around an enchantment that makes you cut off one of your fingers during your upkeep — because let's face it after four or five fingers you're probably so out of it that hey what's one more finger and I'm due to draw Disenchant soon and even if I don't my hands look pretty silly with all these nubs so mise well just put 'em all in the bin for aesthetic purposes.
Round Three: Derek Douglas U/B Control But Wait Fatties
Derek had a broken leg. I believe it was due to his wearing a mohawk. See there are people that don't take kindly to those who aren't afraid to examine the rules of hairstyle etiquette. Derek met two of these people. They are members of the Pittsburgh Steelers — the local futbol club.
One day Derek was at the Carnegie Science Center checking out the mohawk exhibit — you know mohawks past and present what does the future hold for mohawks the usual — and James Harrison and Big Ben bumped into him. Derek was deep in thought considering the impact mohawks had on the industrial revolution and was perhaps not watching where he was going.
Now Harrison and Ben don't cotton to mohawks on a good day let alone when they're in an actual science center instead of a bar beating on or harassing the patrons so let's just assume they were slightly miffed to begin with.
Big Ben: Watch it you mohawk-havin' bitch.
Derek: Sorry predator.
Harrison: Don't call him preditor bitch.
Derek: You spelled “predator” wrong.
And it was on.
Yes you did. Now take three 'til you die .
Since I am officially out of the running for day two this ends my tournament report. Thanks for reading and have a nice day.
Look at you knowing s**t about white space! Clever girl!
Scottie Too Hottie “Bags” Teamann Andrew “Andrew Cuneo” Cuneo and Mike “Spikey Mikey” Patnik decided to show up and just get all Team CMU circa 2001 in the place. It was teary and solemn and joyous and well just like old times. Few of them still play — but when they do they're still a couple hundred rating points above my career high. So there's that.
Bags got into a draft without knowing any of the cards. He drafted a white/black cesspool that included a grand total of two creature enchantments double Auramancer and Gravedigger. You know that one game out of a hundred where he'll pull off the recurring Replenish-type loop? It'll be awesome.
However in the three games I watched it simply did not happen. Pobre si and lo siento.
While milling about waiting for the pairings to go up I decided to try a thought experiment:
Depending on your sources between two and ten percent of the total population is homosexual. I found myself a nice vantage point where I could take in the entire venue then estimated how many people were present. I settled on 1500. I then started with the “2% homosexual” group and tried to mentally segregate thirty people and declare them gay as the night.
This was unsatisfying for the group was too small to appear significant. Plus the gays were able to easily blend in with the straights and we absolutely can't have this according to the Republicans.
I then jumped straight up (LOL “straight!”) to the 10% bracket and this is where my research started to produce results! I found a suitable test group of 150 drew an imaginary gayness circle around their group and informed them — only in my mind of course — that they were queer as three-dollar bills.
It was remarkable! They were such a significant presence in both allocated space and purchasing power (2011 dollars adjusted for inflation which is a good thing according to the Democrats) that I could only conclude that wow there are a lot of homosexuals here! How did I not notice them when I walked in? I mean they're all standing right there inside that imaginary circle and being gay and yet I walked right past them!
Round Four: Karen Thomas G/B
Karen had a broken leg. She suffers from a little-known and very rare disease called omgsoadorable. Omgsoadorable sufferers are well omg so adorable and as a result they're adorable.
Few people are aware that when you reach the furthest heights of adorableness one of your legs breaks which causes you to need a cast on said leg which causes you to be so much more omgsoadorable which further raises the limits of both adorableness and the bandwidth of icanhascheezburger.com. It's like Moore's Law dispenses ovaries like Mentos while Darwinism provides the Diet Coke in the form of rutting season. (I have no idea what this actually means – The Ferrett)
We both mulled but since she has very small fingers it took her longer to shuffle. So much longer that while she was still trying to shuffle her deck I was beating down with Obliterator.
We both mulled in game two but since she has very small fingers it takes her longer to shuffle thus she realized that if one mulligan lasts x long then two mulligans must most assuredly last (2)x long. Karen is a science teacher and I gotta say for what the sciences gained the maths up and lost. And I beat her into oblivion with turn 1 2 3 and 4 guys because I am merciful Sensei Kreese notwithstanding.
So she mulliganed a lot.
And drew pretty much nothing.
Why you hatin'?
Q. Wait how does any of this prove that you're horrible at Magic?
A. I beat upon a mana-screwed girl with very small fingers.
For those of you familiar with my work (LOL “work”) you may remember that I am well kinda pee-shy. A bank of urinals with no dividers + one open urinal + lots of guys occupying the other urinals = come back later or hold my breath and use a stall. To pee. Because I am pee-shy. So are you but you're way too embarrassed to admit it.
The David L. Lawrence Convention Center in Pittsburgh PA has the ultimate urinal setup. They have urinal dividers — but not just any urinal dividers! Apparently the architect when it came time to design the bathrooms realized that “pee-shy” is a serious affliction and most certainly no laughing matter (but g'wan laugh anyway). The dividers are so massive that absolutely no eye contact not even peripherally is possible. They can also depending on your position blot out the sun like the Persian arrows in 300.
Our dividers will blot out the sun!
Then we will pee in the shade.
The dividers are so lovely that the next time I'm in Pittsburgh I will gather up all my immediate family and truck them down to the Convention Center for the express purpose of showing them the architectural masterpiece that is the men's room urinals. That $40 entry fee was a bargain. I would've paid $60 if Wizards added a pic of the urinal dividers to the GP literature sheet.
That idea is on the house!
A Marketing Genius
Round Five: Ryan Unser U/G/B/R
Ryan had a broken leg. He said he got it at Wal-Mart on Black Friday fighting over the last copy of From the Vault. See Wizards in your zeal to reap unconscionable profits on the backs of the working poor you caused at least one broken leg.
I've known some money-hungry capitalists before — but Wizards obviously takes the cake. They should be declared a monopoly and split into at least five separate entities each of whom will be required to pay a 75% corporate tax provide jobs for the needy and scholarships and open food banks and libraries and buy vests for police dogs. For the children. Oh and the elderly.
“Serious” Magic players are probably laughing. “Casual” Magic players aren't even reading this article — but if they were they might say “I like his deck already.” Regardless of which pompous camp you belong to the beat-down came post haste in both games since Ryan decided to draw a whole lot of nothing.
Afterwards I had to ask what his deck did other than stall and draw cards. He showed me a bunch of Millstone-style cards that decided to play hide-n-seek in his deck.
Q. How does this prove you're horrible at Magic?
One of my favorite activities in life is being near a guy who's telling a story of how he was out at this bar (or anywhere but it's usually a bar) and this gay guy either hit on him overtly or subtly or maybe all he had to do was walk in. The storyteller then either beat the guy up 'cause mash teh gays! or immediately left shielding his crotch for sheer life.
Now there are five stories that most (d**khead) guys have in their arsenals:
1) This one time I was so drunk
2) This cop pulled me over and I manned up and he cowered
3) How I walked up to this hot chick and said “let's go” and we did
4) I was so good I coulda made the pros if I hadn't
5) Cool story about how I deal with gay guys
It's story 5 that gets me into Rizzo Fun Mode For The Intellectually F**ked:
I ask “Why are you afraid of gay people?” The answer is either “I'm not afraid of them!” or “I f**kin' hate 'em!”
Question two is: “Are you uncertain about your sexuality?” The answer as you may guess is “I'm straight and I know it!”
I then slide into Fun Mode: “There's no reason to be ashamed I mean really it's no big deal. The stigma is gone.” At this point they usually turn red and start laughing – a shameful laugh hidden under false bravado as they either get with the quickness as they show me their wedding ring or a picture of their “hot-ass girlfriend.”
At this point I pretty much come straight out (LOL “straight”) and tell them it's okay to be gay. Obv they say they're not but the obv retort is “prove it.” Since one cannot disprove a negative — as in “okay Mr. Rizzo prove to me you don't whack it to Serra Angel” — this results in me winning though I win nothing. But man it's some kind of fun to f**k with people.
Kinda like what I'm doing right now.
Round Six: Rachel Rodgers R/B
Rachel had a broken leg. Oh and elf ears affixed to her regular ears. I never really knew I had a thing for elven women though I thought Agent Smith was dead-sexy in Lord of the Rings. But Rachel! In her elven ears and broken leg she looked not just tall and lean and deadly with a bow and arrow but vulnerable like she needed me to just for once show her a little damned compassion — I have a broken leg for God's sake! She got it defending Helm's Deep which is pretty bad-ass if you ask me plus you know she killed orcs and goblins.
Rachel mulled and drew about eight lands and two red spells. I drew about the same but I haz artifacts.
I double-mulled game two and was being beaten to death by red bloodthirst creatures that are probably fair to middling in Sealed Deck. Then the Obliterator Twins came to play and they fought over who should wear the 6/6 Lashwrithe.
Know what big-ass tramplers do to little red guys? I bet you do and I think I've successfully proven why I am still despite winning my third consecutive (!) match horrible at Magic. And yet I'm pretty good at Magic…
Bags and I were watching Aaron cheat little kids at the Gunslinga! Table when he asked how much I thought Revised duals might go for these days. I guessed about $100 for the good ones and maybe $500 for the kewl Beta ones. We both marveled at how no one can possibly afford those prices and aren't you glad you sold a billion million bucks worth of cards for 3k?
Then it hit me:
The cards are fairly scarce relatively speaking and the people who can pay those kinds of prices are the people that were ten to fifteen years ago high-school-age Magic players. Now they're all grown up and have jobs — and since most Magic players are pretty smart they likely have good jobs probably more than a few even have lucrative jobs.
And now all your duals are belong to them.
Wizards of the Coast are geniuses on so many levels that I can't even comprehend. They must have anticipated that the youngsters playing in the old days would one day grow up and have monies mo' monies to spend on cards. The only thing was: how to keep them interested in the intervening years? I think they solved that problem by printing awesome sets with awesome cards with awesome mechanics a.k.a.: cardboard crack.
Oh and getting that Forsythe guy. Decent hire I guess.
Speaking of the decent hire while watching the Gunslinga! Table some guy asked what the hell is the Gunslinga! Table. I informed that it's famous guy vs. random who can win a pack if he beats famous guy and I pointed to Aaron. The guy asked “Why is he famous?”
I paused for a moment trying to gauge his sincerity-slash-naivet. Then went for the jugular:
I said he's famous because he used to be a teammate of mine. He then asked who I was. I replied that I am a former teammate of the famous guy at the Gunslinga! Table. An infinite loop began and unless I'm mistaken that guy is still there trying to find a way back to finity.
Round Seven: Onassis Burton Mono U
Onassis had a broken leg. I believe he finally got sick of saying “Yes that's correct: 'Onassis.' Yes like the Greek shipping magnate. Yes who married JFK's widow. Yes his first name was really 'Aristotle.' Yes like the Greek philosopher. Now STFU and die in a fire and come back to life to die in another fire and come back to life and die for infinity” and instead smashed his own leg with a baseball bat to avoid for the millionth time in his life regurgitating all of the above.
Kinda like how I feel when I hear “Rizzo? Ever heard of The Jerky Boys? Huh liverlips! Frank Rizzo! What's up there fruitcake!” Like this guy I work with named Bruce Campbell who rarely if ever gets asked “Hey you ever see Evil Dead?”
Those people should die in fires.
Metaphorically of course.
Then for real of course.
Because I lost game one and it was never my fault I got mana screwed and he topdecked like a champ I won game two on the back of turn 1 2 3 and 4 action while Onassis was trying to get his fatties on. He was as stunned as I was when his life total reached zero.
It was probably a typo and I cheated. Well good on you as those fun-loving Brits tend to say.
It was 30-7 my flavor in game three when s**t went downhill. Onassis cast two Ratchet Bombs and the tapper artifact which put the beats at a standstill. He then cast an Leonin Arbiter and that seven-mana artifact that kills my life like Vindicate was on a string since he'd sac it to gain a life and put it back in his hand and drop more bombs than M. Night Shyamalan. Once I was officially a eunuch he dropped titans and Wurmcoils and stocked up on Mana Leaks like they were legal again.
This match doesn't prove I am horrible at Magic for Onassis was probably too good of a player to be paired up against me this late in the tourney. It does however prove that I suck at beating good players with good decks and tapping s**t in 2011 is just as annoying as it was during Invasion Block. Nevertheless a loss is a loss and while I am horrible at Magic I'm still kick ass at grammar evidenced by the first tee from my online tee shirt company:
The Center had an on-duty security guard an older white guy with a badge but sans gun — so yeah respeck my authoritay! His main job was to funnel the smokers away from the front entrance to around the corner where “We got ashtrays set up.” He was vigilant and diligent and wasn't about to take no mess any way you wanted it. For hours he stood his ground and made sure no one smoked near the entrance 'cause secondhand smoke death and decay and omg just go around the corner or I'll show you my badge. No one fronted because we could see how seriously he undertook his undertaking.
Fast-forward a few hours and his replacement showed up: an overweight black woman who decided that the smokers are at least paying exorbitant taxes so mise well let them smoke wherever they want. Actually I can't say that was her thought process but she did find a nice cozy spot behind a large desk where she sat and sat and sat until she could no longer sit so she reclined.
Round Eight: Devin Williams U/G Pod
Devin had a broken leg because I gave it to him after the match. To wit:
I pulled Liliana Vess's ultimate and put into play the following:
3/3 white flyer that brings back an artifact
The 4/4 Baloth
2/1 land-finder guy
Another Phyrexian Obliterator
Some randoms and artificia.
Devin had some Birds and Wurmcoil tokens and the White Titan and Elesh Norn.
And then he played Mimic Vat.
I picked it up and read it.
But wait you have no cards in hand and just peeled it.
You must imprint!
But no you mustn't.
Okay whatever I guess.
He attacked with his White Titan.
I am sneaky instant-speed yo.
I killed Elesh Norn.
Reached for my Vampire Nighthawk.
Who is now a 2/3 again.
Q. What did Rizzo do?
No he couldn't.
But he must have.
It's not too late to change your answer.
You are a(n) ________ Magic player.
i) All of the above and I'll go to synonym.com when I get off work to find some more.
So of course I broke Devin's leg to prevent him from running to tell his friends about this horrible player who looks like he could afford to lose a ton of cash in a money draft. Wouldn't you?
After a tearful goodbye hug and dry hump Bags left. Then Cuneo left then Patnik left neither of whom said “buh buh love you call me.” Then Aaron and Neil left though I didn't realize this until later when I sought out my last two friends in the world… and they were gone.
As he looks toward the exit a single tear slides down Rizzo's cheek.
I'm all alone in this world now! Okay world you son-of-a-bitch bring it on.
Round Nine: Riley Benson Caw-Blade
Riley had a broken leg and he only attended this his first Grand Prix due to an unforeseen multiplayer melee injury. One night one of the players created so many squirrel tokens during an extended infinite-mana turn and another played Congregate and another played Rebound and another played Time Stop and another cast Shahrazad — and then Riley called Wizards Rules Team.
The rules guru on the other end determined that one of these a**holes needed to get his leg broken for playing such dumb cards. The other players knowing that rules gurus have the power to ban people from the kitchen table decided that Riley would be target player. Oh sure they laugh about it now and he told the guy next to him that it wasn't so bad and would he be interested in joining his group?
I kid the kitchen table crowd because that's how I started and that's how I will likely end. But in the meantime I'm just jealous 'cause y'all have friends. The last two I had in the world left me.
Rizzo looks to the heavens exasperated and alone and screams “WHY!!!???”
I have Bloodghast suited up.
He has no guys and is facing death then peels the double-strike pro: black guy.
I peel Gatekeeper of Malakir.
Fast-forward to game two:
I have some dork suited up.
He has no guys and is facing death then peels the double strike pro: black guy.
I peel Gatekeeper of Malakir.
Do I need to point out that I won only because I peeled one of four answers in my deck the exact turn I needed them two games in a row? Because I will point that out if you need me to.
So all that went and happened. I beat upon the mana-screwed chicks and those who couldn't beat my super-lucky guy top decks and lost to everyone else. Par for the course I suppose and really kinda what I expected. I saw some old- school lovers albeit briefly devoured Magic player stench wandered the massive hall and venue aimlessly for what seemed like hours and miles played against what I can only assume were at least seven rounds of net decks and got to see about a billion Steelers' jerseys on the passerby who were walking to the stadium 'cause duh Da Stillers' are playin' tonight!
Which reminds me athletes' salaries are outrageous! If you've ever uttered those words as I have oh so many times (which basically means “never”) I have a quick list which if adhered to will usher in a new era of reasonable salaries and then you can finally afford to take your family to the game:
1) Buy an authentic jersey for $100+.
2) And a hat and couple t-shirts.
3) Buy game tickets for a c-note or ten.
4) Or buy the pay-per-view at $60 per pop.
5) Or the TV season ticket package at $200 per year.
6) Sit back and relax as you watch player salaries plummet.
Q. What's the difference between a rabid sports fan and a brain sitting in a jar on a shelf?
A. Nothing. Well I guess the shelf is different.
As he was heading out and I was going for one more sextastic pee behind the divider of love I passed Patrick Chapin offered a fist-bump and said “Patrick Chapin!” He returned the potato and said “Have a good night man.”
“Man?” Don't you know who I am? I'm famous! I'm frigginrizzo!
I had to put that paragraph up in here for two reasons:
1) All StarCityGames.com articles must mention Patrick Chapin at least once.
2) Patrick is one of my few Facebook friends who isn't politically and philosophically moronic. (Hey! – T.F.)
3) Even if the f**ker didn't recognize me.
4) Though he looked kinda tired.
5) And I was kinda tired.
6) But only one of us had a four-hour drive home.
7) Hint: it was me.
How tired was I? I only fell asleep while driving a dozen or so times and only rear- ended one guy at a stop light because I am horrible at driving though not as horrible as I am at Magic. The impact jarred me awake and I pulled over into the parking lot where he pulled over hopefully to get my ass beaten to a pulp: at least if he rendered me unconscious I would be able to sleep. We appraised the total lack of damage (how the f**k?) then he said “I don't give a s**t it's not my car!”
So i mise.
I drove on and on and on she kept on 'cause that thang been alive before my mother's born. There were no further incidents and now I can go back to my regularly-scheduled life.
And so can you.
Because I lived the dream.
Even if it was only for one day.
John Friggin' Rizzo