Friday, April 26, 2013

Open Letter to Former Guildies

From time to time I will give everyone's eyes a break from my rantings and post letters written by others.  The following is an open letter from an MMORPG player to her former guild-mates:

Begin:

(originally written in February 2012; updates made August 2012 through February 2013)

WARNING: the following announcement will burn several bridges.

Anthony (quit WoW early 2013)
Rob (quit WoW September 2012)
Jay (quit WoW late 2012)
Chas (joined another server)
Mo (quit WoW late 2012)
Brian
Garys (?) I think there are two.
Dan
John (I don't even know where he is now)
Justin (quit WoW sometime in summer 2012)
Jess

If your name happens to be listed above, congratulations! You have earned my respect and trust, and I genuinely like you as people. And I will also regret leaving you behind to deal with the asshatery. But, thanks to RealID, we can still communicate, so that helps. Be sure to give me a whisper if you ever need anything, and I will be more than happy to assist.

And now, it's time to ignite the flames of hatred.

Jim--So, let me get this straight...you're a racist, homophobic, rabbit-murdering, microscopic-minded Army twat who sounds like Ray Romano on painkillers, and yet you put ME on your ignore list because...? Ok, fine. Be that way. I sincerely hope you die in a car fire. Go and tell that to your wife and kids. (UPDATE: Jim left the guild not long after me, so this insult is now moot. My respect for him has increased a tad).

Kelly--You are a close contender in the "I'm so passive-aggressive, I can't really maybe definitely possibly make up my mind...kinda" contest. Your constant waffling back and forth, combined with your utter inability to heal and your condescending nature towards me, pisses me the fuck off. Also, don't tell me to learn my class when you obviously can't get your shit together. Know me for who I am and learn some fucking respect.

Sean--Grow a penis and learn how to run a raid. That is all.

Dinesh--DING DING DING! You are the winner of the "Most Annoyingly Passive-Aggressive Raider of All Time" sweepstakes! Your prize? A giant middle finger, courtesy of me. You're welcome.

Jesse--GRATSGRATSGRATSGRATSGRATSGRATSGRATSGRATSGRATSGRATSGRATS!GRATSGRATSGRATSGRATSGRATSGRATSGRATSGRATS MOTHERFUCKER! But on a more serious note, I should thank you for helping me create my very own personal list of suggested "achievements" to include in the game. Here are some examples:
-The Douche of the Baggervilles: Deliberately pull mobs when no one's paying attention to your frat-boy jokes and cause a wipe.
-Douche of Earl: Ridicule a person's class as inferior, but then create a character of that same class and pretend you never mocked it in the first place.
-Blame Canada: Be a Canadian.
-My Basement Brings All the Nerds Downstairs: Live in your mom's basement.
-Trapped in the Closet: Constantly attempt to affirm your heterosexual status by making insulting gay jokes.
-God Save the Queen: Throw a hissy fit for no reason and type in caps for a full hour after someone declines to join a group you're coordinating.
-Isn't It Ironic?: Bitch and moan about how no one offers to help you, when it's painfully clear to everyone else that you've never assisted anyone unless the effort benefitted your stupid needs.
-Does This Bug You? Does This Bug You? Huh?: Slyly insinuate my inferior status among your guildmates, but stop short of openly insulting me, because that would make Jeremy mad. And Lord knows you don't want that to happen, do you, Jesse-Wesse?
-Act Your Age: Behave like a spoiled teenager with ADHD when you're pushing 30.
-Cocaine Is One Hell of a Drug: Type incoherently when excited/peeing yourself/staring at your character's ass/kissing Jeremy's ass/making furious love to your bag of circus peanuts.
-My Epeen's Bigger Than Your Epeen: Actually, this isn't an achievement; this is my way of telling you that although I don't have a penis, I still think mine is larger. Here's a visual comparison:
Me: :------------------------------------------ ^o^!
You: . :-(
Think about it, won't you? Thank you. (UPDATE: Apparently, not long after I left the guild, Jesse suffered from a stroke and had to be admitted to the hospital, where he was bedridden for several days. His entire right side was paralyzed for some time. Add to that he lost his job, his father passed away unexpectedly, his sister was diagnosed with a bizarre and deadly disease, and he has no money to pay for his medical bills, and you've got a serious case of karma on your hands. I asked Shane and Jim what his condition was like, and they both told me he's improving, albeit slowly. He hasn't been able to play for long periods of time because his back hurts when he sits too long, and he's still in physical therapy. So...yet another series of insults I should strike off this list). UPDATE PARTE DEUX: Jess told me in August that Jesse got into a huge argument with Jeremy and left the guild. Turns out Jesse didn't appreciate it when his raid spot was taken by someone else, and he was pissed when Jeremy wouldn't give it back to him. Let's think about this for a second, shall we? Jesse suffered a stroke sometime in late February and was in the hospital for at least a month, where he couldn't do anything more than sit in one place and breathe. Then came the physical therapy sessions, which took a few more months, and then, when he started playing again, he couldn't play for long periods of time because of back pain. Can you blame Jeremy for wanting to replace Jesse? (Asshatery aside, I mean.) Fortunately, as much of as an asshole as he can be, Jeremy does have a certain amount of common sense, and he told Jesse he wasn't going to cut out someone who's been a fixture in his raid group for over six months in favor of someone who's physically incapable of sitting in one place for hours at a time. Jesse, not content with hanging with the B squad, threw a tantrum and left the guild in a grand display of rage. Yeah. Remember when I said I felt sorry for Jesse and I'd refrain from mocking him in the future? I'm starting to rethink that.

Julie--Honey, you're 12. Go make some friends.

Damien/Damian/Damion/Fuck it/Ordament--If I wanted to know how delicious a certain type of beer was, I'd go buy it and try it myself, not listen to inane drivel in Mumble or guild chat for three hours. If I wanted to give myself an ipecac, I would eat poutine. And if I really wanted to hear how much damage you deliver in raids/groups, or how epic your gear is, or how you pity anyone who doesn't match your supposedly high gaming standards, or how you cornered the herb market by selling stacks of Silverleaf for a gold each or some shit like that, I would give myself a lobotomy so I'd sit back and enjoy the nonsense. I really don't want to hear it, and I'm pretty sure no one else does, either. But yeah, anyway...I have a dream, Ordament. And in that dream, something eats you. And I wake up laughing. Oh, and congratulations on earning the "Blame Canada" achievement.

Jeremy--You know, you probably don't give a rat's ass about what I'm going to say, seeing as how your ego is roughly the size of Mount Rushmore, but I'm going to say it anyway. I know you told me it doesn't matter how I play, and you're not going to dictate how I should play, but your attitude indicates otherwise. I've raided with you (unfortunately), and I've witnessed your brutal treatment of other players if they happen to make one mistake. EARTH TO GUILD MASTER: this is a fucking game. This is not a way of life, this is not your job, this is not your spouse to make love to every night. (And if you do make love to it, then it's time to take a nice, long trip to the friendly place with the men in white lab coats). Yelling at me is not going to make me learn; if anything, it's going to make me do one of two things: 1) cry and feel bad or 2) get angry and fling it right back. As you can see, I'm well into phase 2. When I log onto this game, I log on to have fun. Not to conduct research on how a fight should be executed, not to use a white board and scribble on it in Magic Marker like some crazed, retired football coach organizing a game plan, and definitely not to calculate complex mathematical formulas on the probability of the effectiveness of one spell vs. another in taking down a boss. Dude, I have a job, and it drains me. When I come home at the end of the day, I want to relax and have fun. Your guild does NOT do that for me. YOU don't do that for me. Therefore, what should I give you in return? Nothing. This is my account, I'll play how I want, and you can kiss my sweet Philly ass.

I bid you farewell.
Qattah (pronounced "KAH-TAH", you illiterate monkeys)

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Dear Netflix

Dear Netflix:

I'm going to try to keep this brief.

You have cornered the market in home dvd/streaming video rentals.  Reed Hastings, your CEO, pulls in $4 million a year for a salary.  Impressive.  Significantly less impressive is the absurd catalog of streamable viewing options available through Netflix.  If my $8 a month is contributing to Mr. Hastings's four-million-dollar annual salary, then I better stop seeing such shittastic titles that nobody in their right mind would willingly watch.  Moreover, you continually remove the content that I actually want to watch. Where have all the MST3K episodes gone?  Where is Deadwood?  Where is Boardwalk Empire?  Where is Community?  All these used to be available but aren't anymore.  Where are any halfway decent movies that aren't 5+ years old? I can count them on one hand. It's pretty pathetic. Instead we get treated to such celluloid gems as:

Sargent Kabukiman: NYPD
Zombie Sorority Girls
Assault of the Sasquatch
Nazis at the Center of the Earth
Another Gay Movie
Chop Kick Panda
Shaolin Grandma
My Stepdad's a Freakin' Vampire

The sad thing?  I only made up ONE of those titles.  The others are ACTUAL TITLES.  I'll leave it to you to guess which one....

Also, I do not live in Marcus Hook, PA.  I don't live in PA at all.  Stop telling me what is popular in Marcus Hook, PA.  I don't give a shit.  Listen, if you are, indeed, telling the truth about what is popular in Marcus Hook, then you have done the residents of said town an extreme disservice.  No one will want to associate with any miscreants from Marcus Hook, thanks to your revelations about their disturbing viewing preferences.  Ever. 

Signed,
I'm Paying For This?

PS: if you remove Columbo from the streaming list and out of my instant queue, I will hunt you down.

Monday, April 15, 2013

Dear Carlos Santana

Dear Mr. Santana:

¿Oye como va? While I generally like most of your music, your absurd line of tacky, overpriced, hooker shoes leaves a lot to be desired. Seriously, what in the name of Manolo Blahnik qualifies you to design women's shoes anyway? Hmm? Can I get in on that action? For reals.

Signed,
I'd Rather Be Shoeless Than Look Like A Ten-dollar Whore

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Dear Gabriel Byrne

Dear Gabriel:

Can I call you Gabriel?  Do me a favor: pick an accent.  I don't care which one; but just pick ONE.  I can't deal with the crazy-ass amalgam of Anglo/French/Estonian/Australian/South African that comes tumbling out of your gob anymore.  I'm pretty sure you're a Dubliner, so how about you just go with that?  It works for Bono, right?

K, THX!

PS:  I'm sorry that I often confuse you with Ian McShane. Must be the sideburns.

Friday, April 12, 2013

Dear Billy Joel

Dear Mr. Joel:

You suck ass.  You have got to be the least-talented, yet most-overrated, musician of your generation.  Every time I hear Captain Jack, Only the Good Die Young, or that Brenda Renetti song, I my internal organs start to desiccate and I want to shove drywall screw anchors into my ears.

On second thought, maybe I'll just get a rifle and snipe you.

You are easy enough to find, being a horrible, misshapen lush.  I'll just look in a local, New York rehab or maybe see which car is wrapped around the nearest tree.  It will most likely be yours.
Although, I can't blame you.  If I were you, I'd try to wrap my car around a tree too.  Please die soon.

Signed,
A fan  (NOT)

Introduction

One of my favorite short stories of all time is Bartleby the Scrivener, by Herman Melville.  I am dedicating this blog of humorous, angry, thankful, scathing, or otherwise "undeliverable letters" to Herman Melville's wonderful story and character, Bartleby the Scrivener.   

"Ah, Bartleby! Ah, humanity!"