Who wants Baldur's Gate 2? [ended]

I just bought BG2 Complete recently on GamersGate (for $2), so I'll let someone else have the pleasure of getting it from you. Still, I have things to say on most of these topics. I started writing about killing a polar bear (which goes back to Japanese perfecting Shotokan by practicing on war prisoners), but then a camel came by and forced me at gun point to change the topic.

You see, it's survival of the fittest. Camels want to survive, like everyone else, and they want to live well and have fun. Unfortunately they live in climates which are very hot, and to counter that they had to develop a certain cold blooded attitude. Initially they developed a martial art of one thing they were very good at: spitting. Camel masters (snipers) can spit into a person's eye from 50 metres while running, boring into the eye socket, and reaching the brain. This head shot had been the hallmark of camel fighting for centuries.

Camels however aren't the backwards animals people think they are. They might live in deserts, but that doesn't mean they don't have access to the history channel or sattelite internet, nor that they don't get cultural cues from the Modern Warfare series of games (in fact, some of the best players out there are camels, controlling the game by mouth only, but they prefer not to advertise this fact). That is why in recent years there has been a movement of camels to carry more modern weapons, which they keep in their hump. The food they have traditionally kept there has been replaced with rations, leaving enough space for a sniper rifle and a granade launcher, their favourite weapons.

So next time you pass by a camel, try to behave nicely. You don't know what it's carrying in that hump.

Regarding "Clowns are attracted to tornadoes", that's of course a fallacy. Clowns are attracted to toreadors, and it's only through lack of adequate verbal skills of some tellers that this has become "tornadoes" over time. Of course once that became the case, some clowns indeed tried to see whether there is such an attraction. Some did find tornadoes attractive, and formed the TCC (Tornado Clown Club), but it's still safe to say that clowns are more attracted to toreadors than to tornadoes.

http://imgur.com/QSgHw
...need I actually type anything more?

In today's modern world, there is a belief that you can not kill polar bears barehanded with only a can of beans. In reality this is wrong. I do understand people that think this way. Polar bears have CLAWS and shit. And they also have sharp teeth. How could a person kill a polar bear with bare hands? They are all wrong. I once had an uncle called Buronog, who lived on the north pole. He would sometimes come visit me. He told me that he had killed a polar bear bare handed with only a can of beans and he is an honest man. But later that night, Buronog TURNED OUT TO BE A POLAR BEAR AND HE ATE ME AND MADE BEANS OUT OF ME.

Oh and if it wasn't clear enough: I was the legendary Buronog and i like to eat Mr Beans for dinner.

The difference between two parallel universe can be any single difference--an apple that fell a few seconds later, a slight offset of time, anything. Before you sleep, the universe is in one state, and when you wake up, things have changed. The universe is, irrefutably, a different one than before--meeting the qualifications of being a parallel universe.

Yes, it's one of the worst games ever! I've seen better graphics on my ancient PS2.
You uncultured swine

I woke up on yet another cold morning. Or, if it could even be called the morning. My sleep cycle's been thrown off ever since I got my new shift job. That and, I've been kept up by the giant neon Gay Samurai that constantly glares through the window of my apartment. That club that opened up across the street, Yatter's, has been simultaneously the bane of my existence and what's been keeping me alive for the last couple of weeks. Yep, it's there that I'm working.

I look over at my phone to see if I've been called upon for an impromptu unpaid overtime shift again. My boss is crazy about this kind of thing. I keep hoping that something good will come out of this, but nope. It's not like an inexperienced college dropout has many options in this economy though so I take what I can get. Even if it means being forced to be subservient to somebody who can best be described as a cross between Gary Busey and Margaret Thatcher.

Anyways, I have to be at work within the next five minutes, so I grab the same clothes I wore the day before, shove to tictacs into my mouth and walk across the street. As I eneter through the staff door, I am greeted by a fist to the face, knocking me completely over. Regaining my composure, I see my boss towering above me.

"You're late," Yatterman scoffs.

I begin trying to explain myself, but before I know it, I'm being lifted up off the floor by an unseen figure.

"We don't take too kindly to that around here."

Finding myself unable to move, I see a gigantic mural behind Yatterman. Or at least, that's what it looks like behind all the bloodstains that have accumulated over the years. As I'm being dragged over to what appears to be a giant meat grinder, I begin to reflect upon my wasted life. What could I have done to avoid this fate? This belief is soundly shattered as I remember Yatterman's armies marching upon every major city across the globe. I still don't know how it happened, but somehow I ended up in the presence of our Great Leader. As I feel an intense pain in my legs, I begin to drift into slumber, comforted by the fact that I loved Big Brother, and Big Brother loved me.

I feel that the sock has been neglected, and would therefore like to offer a few words about it.

Just like wine, or some cheeses (definitely more like cheeses), an old sock just gets better with time. It's that smell of "been there, done that" which makes an old sock so valuable, and speaks of its owner's experience and wisdom. That smell is not only the mark of the cream of the crop of society, but can also be effectively used to keep off vampires and cold blooded camels.

Any more entries?

Not from me. Because what I post aren't entries. Besides, I think that everything about killing bears has been said well enough already in the multitude of books on the subject, such as "101 Ways to Kill a Polar Bear with Nothing But Your Bare Hands and a Can of Baked Beans" and "Killing a Polar Bear with Nothing But Your Bare Hands and a Can of Baked Beans for Dummies".

These topics are too difficult and too serious for me. May I talk about Silvio Berlusconi instead?

Friday bump.

Madness is a sign of a lack of grapes in your diet.

Grapes, most commonly known as 'grapse' here in Australia, are key to a healthy diet for morally correct and sane persons. A lack of grapes may spontaneously cause brain functions to implode. It is scientifically proven that a diet without grapes tend to have a 88% chance of the affected person becoming 'mad'.

Hundreds of test subjects I've gone through over the decades have cited grapes as one of the main reasons why they still have a clear mind capable of concise and intelligible phrases such as 'let me go' and 'I'll call the police'. Sometimes when I'm in a bad mood I elect to stop giving them grapes, which fortunately makes the loud noises go away. Usually permanently. Which is good. I have taken a liking to pressing this button.

'Resveratrol', a grape phytochemical which is supposedly positively linked to various health benefits, are actually one of the prime combatants of madness. This was made clear after I spontaneously selected a handful of seemingly normal people and subjected them to carefully controlled and environmentally friendly tests spanning a year or two. The ones with grapes in their diet were still sane, the ones without grapes became mad, and the control group that didn't get anything were found unconscious and immobile. I do not know why, and neither did my medical team.

My findings find grapes are able fend off madness and also allow people stay conscious and give the ability to move. Evidence to the contrary are slander, sabotage, and lies.

Congrats jackofhats.