Word Wizards

Dr. Repose: The site's wanna-be author, professional jerk, monster who's dead on the inside, and semi-proud owner.

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The Joy of Statistics, Logistics and … Platypi

This site, well, doesn’t get many comments.   Page views seem fairly high though, and I suppose that tells me that at least someone is reading this nonsense, and that’s really good enough for me.   As Huxley states every now and then in the rotating quotes on the right, obscurity can only be cultivated in the dark.   Or at least something to that effect.

When I first created this site, it was much like… say, a rebound relationship.   My last website broke my heart, cut me to the bone, and made me want to pick up an acoustic guitar and write the world’s billionth love song.   So this was the first thing I made.   At first I wanted to name it Platitudes.com, for the precise reason that, unless I’m being extremely lazy in my writing, I sort of go out of my way to avoid platitudes.   You could even say that it was intended to be ironic which would have been sure to tickle the funny bones of any Gen-Xer that happened to be reading this.   As a side note to that, I  once cracked wise that the best way to get money out of those idiots is to just call things what they are, they seem to think saying something is what it is in a really droll voice makes it cutting and clever.  Ironic.  My brilliant idea was to make Gen-X clothing.   Hats that said, in small text ‘hat.’   Shoes that were in fact labeled ‘Shoe Brand Shoes.’   Expensive t-shirts that said ‘T-Shirt.’   You get the idea.  Of course, I couldn’t get the website name I wanted which sort of irritated me, so I got the Warden on Ventrilo along with another friend of mine in an attempt to coax a new name out of them since my first choice was taken.

Being the super useful Co-Admin he is the Warden cracked wise that Platitudes sounded a lot like, Platypuses.  You know, the ugly poisonous duckbeasts from that wasteland of humanity known as Australia, where everything is poisonous and will kill your ass.  Especially the music, Jet sucks.  So, the suggestion was to name the site, I shit you not… PlatitudePlatypus.com.   While not only is this a stupid suggestion, against my better judgment I said, ‘dude, who would think of something like that?’   Little did I realize that this is the damn internet.  It’s not a matter of who would think of something like that, it’s a matter of when. So I did a google search for ‘platitude.’  This lead me to an article on uncyclopedia.  What’s that you see in the right hand corner upon viewing the page?   A FUCKING PLATYPUS SPEAKING PLATITUDES!

Sometimes, I swear that god only decides to exist to mock me.

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The Secret Legend of the American Ninja’s Blood Hunt Confrontation Annihilation

In my last article I mentioned a very near and very dear old high school friend of mine.   Sam the American Ninja.  Somehow, if you could combine the utter awesomeness of all the American Ninja movies (somehow the count got to four, which goes to show artists who cannot get their scripts accepted must really suck), and sort of mashed it into the corporeal form of one human being, you would end up with a walking avatar of 1980’s film making wizardry.   What you probably wouldn’t end up with is Sam, because nothing about Sam was cool… even in a cheesy 80s action flick way.   What I mean is this… the American Ninja films are a million times less painful to you in the long run than a ten-minute conversation with this man was.  Let me give you Sam’s back story according to him, and before you ask… yes this is based on actual things he told me.  Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction, well at least if that truth is in fact, fiction itself.

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On a dark and stormy night an American Solider, stationed in Japan was killed by a clan of evil Ninjas.   His widow, fearful for her life knew that she had to protect her son, so she gave up her child and left him at a stranger’s doorstep and disappeared into the night.  The child was raised by the kind stranger… a wise old man who actually turned out with his dog ‘Interceptor’ to be … Ninja Master Shadow.  One day young Sam caught his master training in a forest clearing while he was fetching water from the well.   Shadow was standing there and all around him pots were dangling from ropes in the trees.   Then suddenly, there was a great rush of wind and all the pots exploded!  But, and this must be stressed while I say this, in order to get the full effect you have to imagine someone whispering this to you, Shadow never moved.  Also, this was totally not ripped off of those god awful Three Ninjas movies about the 2 skinny kids and 1 fat kid who defeated entire clans of ninjas with corny jokes and nerf guns.   Then, Shadow turned to Sam.


“Sam, today is the day that you must decide if you wish to learn the ways of the Ninja, for you have seen me practicing and now you know the truth and cannot stay if you do not take a vow of secrecy and swear under the ninja code that you will not reveal this truth to any outsiders.  Wahtaaaaaaaaaaa!”


“You told me that Ninjas killed my family!  How can I trust you now you stupid old man!  I will get my revenge and avenge my family by getting revenge and defeating you thereby getting vengeance!  Eat my American fists of justice!”

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Of Guild Wars, Platitudes, and the American Ninja

Platitudes.   Everyone speaks them, few understand how utterly obnoxious they can be.   Rewind to a few months ago, I was on my ventrilo server (as in my, I own it) with my guild mates from Guild Wars.   Allow me to sort of explain that, the Guild Wars thing I mean.   You see, I purchased Guild Wars a long time ago, actually about four years ago when it first came out for the PC.  I was looking for an RPG to play online with my friends that wasn’t an MMO.   Since Guild Wars is a co-operative role playing game and not a persistent world MMO, I thought I would enjoy it.   Little did I know the horrors that awaited me.   Little did I know…

Let me plant a visual in your head to sort of describe the game play experience I’ve had while playing Guild Wars.    You see, Guild Wars allows you to play solo, by bringing AI henchmen.    You can’t solo a god damn thing unless you’re farming or vastly experienced, and the first expansion was so bug ridden you had to do some missions five times in a row in order to enchant each piece of your equipment, leading to annoyance and mostly rage.   The first six months I sort of struggled through Guild Wars was kind of like fighting that crazy asshole Mike Tyson in an electrified cage when he’s got boxing gloves that are actually spiked gauntlets and I’m armed only with a really soft pillow and armor made out of novelty plastic ears.   I chose a Warrior, because I always enjoy getting the Melee classes to do neat little tricks.   I decided to make my secondary class Elementalist.    So I’d be basically a Spellsword.   If you’ve played guild wars you know where this is going,  if you haven’t let me tell you something about that combination of classes… it only works in specialized circumstances, or when you know what the fuck you are doing.   Thankfully, I didn’t.   So I gleefully wandered around getting killed, the sheer variety of places I manged to get myself killed was really the only adventure I got to experience in my brave journey though Tyria.    Dead in a marsh.   Dead in a desert.   Dead in a magical flying castle.   Dead in a river.   Dead on a mountain summit.   Dead in river of molten lava, giving a dramatic thumbs up much like The Terminator.    Dead in a pristine field surrounded by bunnies, piggies and magical rainbows that reflect the innocence of a child’s dream playfully in the sky.     Dead along with my worthless, inept, AI controlled companions.

The face of uselessness.

If you decide to go on a magical quest to save the world armed only with good intentions and a heart for adventure and these are the faces you see when you go to town to assemble a party, for your safety and sanity’s sake, just turn around and go home.   Trust me.

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