[ninty]

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It was the Industrial Age that finally did me in. I was into the hard stuff, man: electronics, combustion, motorized transportation. I'd play for days at a time without ever getting up. I looked bad. Smelled bad. After one 3-day bender I was so rank that my ferrets suddenly passed out in their cage. Seriously, by the time my friends dragged me to a CivAnon meeting, I could have knocked a buzzard off a crap-wagon. Thank you, CivAnon...I finally have my life back-and my ferrets have made a recovery that was nothing short of miraculous.


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What up [sic], Sid Meier? How you like me now, foo [sic]? I'm all healed and [excrement]. Yo, your game ain't [excrement], and you and Civ IV [create a partial vacuum], yo. Because of CivAnon, I now realize that the entire Civilization franchise is [equine excrement], and I ain't gonna be mind-controlled by you Firaxis Games [individuals who have been borne without the benefit of wedlock] no mo' [sic]. So, you go and make as many games as you want, yo [sic]. Because of CivAnon, I'll be the one all up in this [canine female] not playin' it. Word.


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I've been attending CivAnon meetings for approximately 18 months now. Partly because I began to get a perverse thrill out of wiping out entire civilizations with atomic intercontinental ballistic weaponry, and partly because they serve cake at the meetings. I like to kill, that's true. But I like cake even more.