UCDUNDERCITY

ARTICLE TITLE

By AUTHOR | DATE

HEADING

"Unfortunate" doesn't begin to describe my series, this game rewards blind luck and nothing else, I am beyond convinced at this point. After getting completely tooled by scheduling with my opponent changing times on me last minute and refusing to provide confirmation prior to the day of the match as to play times, losing this way somehow felt even worse than I had thought possible. My preparation was superior, my play was superior, and I lost, so I don't see a reason to continue engaging in an activity where what is within my control is overwhelmingly outweighed by what is not.

I am done with competitive Pokemon, and you won't get a fond farewell. This community is infected to its roots with a degenerative disease that grows stronger over time but stops short of killing its host. Tournaments used to have a competitive spirit at their heart, this has been transplanted and replaced with an artificial organ that feeds on vitriol and mockery from insecure little boys that heckle by the sidelines and tear each other to shreds over scraps of attention. The environment we fostered has trapped us all like this in a vicious cycle, and escaping it requires acceptance of the harshest reality we all scramble to explain away, that none of the countless straining efforts we put ourselves through here will ever amount to one single shining glimmer of significance. I would make this the end, but World Cup is still ongoing, and I would never leave so many great friends out to dry, so I'll suffer through a few more games for them.

One last thing before I leave you all to react with disdain, ridicule, and self-righteous fervor, before you do everything in your power to minimize my words and thoughts, box them up and shove them to some cobwebbed corner of your memory, and hope they disappear forever as a stain on your finite time ground to dust. From this moment on, nothing you say matters to me. The foulest insults you hurl with intent to wound will calmly settle at the earth before my feet, and the venom you spit will bring all the pain of a warm summer breeze. You are less than anything you can conceive, while I carry on, brimming with joy distilled from detachment

Horse

a horse walks into a bar. and the- y’know- it’s a joke. the horse is allowed in the bar so that’s fine. so, this horse, he walks into the bar. he- i- uh- it doesn’t matter that it’s a boy horse it could be a girl horse or whatever. um, not important to the joke. so, the- the horse, he walks into the bar and- and- y’know, he walks up to the- the barkeep. there’s- there’s- y’know, the guy behind the counter. it’s an old timey saloon type bar, um. y’know wild west sort of- sort of thing. so- so, the horse, he walks into the bar and he walks up to the barkeep. um, and he says— uh, because it’s a talking horse. it’s- it’s- a- the horse can talk. it’s very important to the uh- the joke that the horse can talk. so, this talking horse, again, important. very important it’s a talking horse. the- the talking horse walks into the bar and he walks up to the barkeep and- and- and he says— well- well- well- well, before he says anything to the barkeep, he puts- he takes his hoof and he puts it up onto the bar. um, and- and- oh wait- wait- wait- wait, no- no, the horse- the horse isn’t- the horse has a bloody hoof. the- the- the horse’s hoof is bloody, it’s very important to the joke. um, that the- the horse has a bloody hoof. so, this horse, he’s walking with his bloody hoof and he walks into the bar, and he puts his- his bloody hoof up onto the bar and that’s really not very sanitary, is it? it’s fine, it’s a joke. um, and- and- oh- well, also, the- the horse because, y’know his- his hoof is- is bloody and it’s injured he’s- he’s limping. he’s not walking. it’s a limping, talking horse. very- very important, bloody hoof. walking- uh- limping- limping horse. um, and the horse can talk. okay. so, the- the horse, he walks into the bar- limps into the bar, the- the horse limps into the bar. um, and- and- uh- he walks- limps- limps- limping horse, bloodied hoof. uh, the- the- the horse limps up to the bar and- and he puts his hoof up onto the bar. uh, it’s bleeding, again. the limping horse. lemme try that again. uh, the- the horse limps into the bar and the horse limps- limps up to the barkeep, so- and- and- again, remember the horse can talk because it’s a joke. um, it’s very important. um, so the horse walks into a bar- limps into the bar, the horse walk— horse limps into the bar. uh, and- and the horse walks- limps- limps up to the barkeep. um, and- and he- he puts his- his hoof up onto the bar- his bloody hoof up onto the bar. and he says to the bartender, “i’m lookin’ fer’ the man that shot my pa’.” oh- wait, no, it was a dog! oh- okay, so- so, this- this dog walks into the bar. um, dog- talking dog- the dog can talk. it’s very important that the dog can talk. and it’s a dog it’s not a horse. that’s- the- kind of- y’know, it’s really important to the joke. uh, so the dog walks into the bar and he walks up to the- limps- limping- limping dog, the- the dog has a bloody hoof. uh, that’s silly, dog- dogs don’t have hooves. it’s not a horse, it’s a dog and he’s got a bloody paw. um, and- and- and- and- and the dog, he walks into the bar and he- he walks- limps- the dog limps into the bar. and the dog limps up to the barkeep and- and the- the talking dog because again he can still talk and it- it still doesn’t matter that it’s a boy dog, girl dog, or whatever. um, none of that matters, but it does matter that the dog can talk, the dogs allowed in the bar, uh- and- and- and- and he’s got a bloody paw. um, so he- he walks into the bar- limps- the dog limps into the bar, uh- and- and the dog limps up to the barkeep and he puts his paw- his- his bloody paw up onto the bar and he says to the bartender, “i’m lookin’ fer’ the man that shot my paw.”

Frick, Kill, Marry: Xavier, Supervisor Jim, Kevin