On the date of August 24th, 2005, I was caught with my pants down in front of a cop car that had been set on fire, while holding a book of matches in one hand and a tank of gasoline in the other. As part of my community service, I’ve been ordered to bestow my vast knowledge upon the gaming masses.
For some reason, I barely got any videogames for Christmas this year—only two, to be specific, and one was a Mario Party. I know I had plenty of videogames on my list, but still I got things like clothes and oranges instead of what I really wanted.
What’s a surefire way to get the things I really want next time the holidays roll around?
All I Want for Christmas
Dear All I Want for Christmas,
Yeah, there is a way to get more of what you want next Christmas: Ask for less shit.
What most people tend to forget is that getting free stuff for Christmas is not an obligation. Nobody has to give you shit. The fact that they’re doing that, regardless of what you’re actually getting, is a pretty sweet deal in and of itself. As soon as you start complaining about getting the wrong free shit, you’re officially an asshole.
Besides the inherent douche-baggery of not appreciating that which is free, expecting a bunch of videogames for Christmas seems like a bit of a waste. If all of the games are half-way decent, then each should provide a good amount playtime before you get bored with it. So unless you’re asking for shitty games, (which you probably are) there’s no reason for you to have enough free time to play them all. If you do, you’re a sad individual who needs to find something of value to actually do.
In the January edition, you showed a picture of three losers who won at a videogame contest. The one to the left looked so much like a transvestite rapist that it scared me, and now I’m scarred for life. I’m afraid to leave my house for fear of this man finding me and raping me. Please tell me what to do.
— Shaking in Panties
Dear Shaking in Panties,
Well, I’m not sure where this man is from, or even where the Frogger tournament, of which he was a champion, took place. I didn’t choose that photo. For all I know, this photo from Paul’s personal stash of transvestite rapist photos, since my own e-mail box is a testament to Paul’s fetish for finding transvestite rapist photos and forwarding them to some of us here at GameCola.
So although I have no idea who that guy on the left is, I can certainly make assumptions about him. He’s a guy in his mid-thirties who lives with his mother, but he insists that it isn’t lame since she moved in with him about two years after he moved. So really, she’s just a guest at his house. He loves metal, and although he doesn’t consider himself a goth, he thinks vampires are really, really cool. He has sex, since he caught hepatitis from a drunk, overweight high school friend that he still had to pay to fuck.
As for your worries about becoming the victim of this sad fuck, I don’t think you have much to worry about. He’s the proud winner of a Frogger tournament. All he had to do was to strategically move a pixilated frog up and down to avoid traffic. I’d actually surprised that he seems to have managed to get to the tournament without taking a wrong turn down an open manhole, or garbage truck, or something else that would have resulted in a hilariously painful death. So on the rare off-chance that he actually knew where you live, I’m sure he’ll end up yet another victim of evolution before he gets anywhere near your house.