Re:Brand

Day 2,287, 16:09 • Published in USA USA • by Aeriadne

As I was reminded recently and as I am almost everyday, I am a useless piece of shit. But where I fail in capturing the attention of people as an able and capable leader I am more skilled with crafting novelty hilarity and imbuing the written word with what little wit I possess.

Hookers are kind of overdone anyways. Presenting my new paper.


For the listeners.
February 23rd, 2014

Bringing the New Old Out In All of US
I like old things. Your mother, for instance.


Lovely woman.

Old things last, or at least they have lasted. Thus them being old. And I like this game. Anything that runs with the delicate ease of a broken leg and somehow still manages to keep on jogging has to have something going for it. And that something is you.


No, not you, the other guy next to you reading this fervently over your shoulder.

As has been trod upon by many a whimsical and waxing writer, the only reason this game is good is because the people playing it are good. Except Pfeiffer, who is quite possibly the most evil boy scout I've ever met. And Ajay, because. But everyone else is good. Maybe not Canadians, but they've got a lot of problems right now and your mother always said not to kick dogs when they're down. But if she's talking, she's not doing her job, so screw what she says anyways.


Suck it Canada.

Regardless, you're all so grand, and I've been really down lately. No, not still talking about your mom, just my mental deficiencies. And it is in this regard that I have failed you.

A (wise) man once said that eRep is a game, and that there's two ways games end. Either one player or team is the winner, or everyone else quits. Since eRep doesn't have winners, it means everyone has to quit. That man may be gone, but I still think about what he said and how he played the game. Every night. While I cry into a cup full of my own tears and then stir in some whiskey sour mix.


And then some actual whiskey.

It boils down to this: in playing a game, you can either be beaten by someone else or by the game itself. That's who wins. Either other people or the game. And so what we're left with, all we're left with, in a scenario where no one can win is seeing who the last one to lose is. It's a bit like Russian Roulette, wherein this case the gun is a gypsy programmed browser clicking menace and all of the players are the citizens of eRepubliktown.

That'd be you again.

And guess what?

You're gonna lose.

There will come a day, maybe tomorrow or maybe years from now, where you will for whatever reason and cause cease existing in this realm. Your last login may be memorable, a valiant act of defiance against your own past judgements and idiot self that now seeks to return your mind and sanity to a modicum of it's former being. Or it may pass without regard, or even choice. If it's that last one, I hope that you're alright. Just remember that I love you. And Dio loves you too.

But not your mom. She loves me. Or at least that's what she tells me between the sheets to emotionally hold me hostage and get me to do with my tongue and teeth whatever she wants me to do.


Clever girl.

But I want you to know, and this is an assurance of the highest caliber, that when the day comes and there only remain two players left clicking, I will be one of them. From atop my mad throne of inconsistencies and self-deprecation, I will gaze down upon you in your squalor and regret, lording my many made up titles and holding them just out of reach over your head. And when you go to log out, and say goodbye to the twisted hellscape that will have become my domain, I will not speak. There will be no words from me. I will simply stand, turn, tango my way into insanity with my own lonely self.

Some men want to watch the world burn. I just want to dance.

Give your mom my regards.