
Us geeks have lost one of our own with the death of Gary Gygax. The world is a less colorful and interesting place all of a sudden. Raise a glass in farewell to an influential man.
Spouting off about beer in the Pacific Northwest (and wherever else we're drinking)
Okay, this doesn't have a damn thing to do with beer, but it has to be said. I guess I'll call this an important Public Service Announcement.
Well, no sooner did I swivel my head back to where I was going and begin to take my left turn when I saw, to my shock and horror, a swarm...no...a cavalcade...a herd...no...a convoy of sweating, red-cheeked, puffing mothers pushing single and double-wide baby strollers at break-neck speed towards me. Christ, there must of been two dozen unemployed, suburbanite breeders in the stampede (now, I'm an unemployed suburbanite capable of breeding, but I wasn't running anyone down...so I can say that). With an exclamatory, "What the fuck," and an NFL-worthy foot-chop to my right I was able to avoid a 20-pram pile-up but I could not avoid the beady-eyed, self-rightous glares of the pack leaders as I danced my little jig and voiced my surprise. Nor could I save the poor woman I had been walking behind who was quickly enveloped by the sweaty mob. I think the boiling mass of humanity recognized one of their own in that woman, because they let her escape unharmed. Of course, only the first couple of ranks of the massed infantry noticed my evasive moves. The rest blithely jammered on about this and that while sweatily shoving their babes onward through the mall and over any unsuspecting customers. As I passed the last of the woman, I was horrified to see some unfortunate octogenarian twisted and wrapped around the rear axle and undercarriage of the last stroller, his wispy white hair making a sad little, "fop, fop, fop" as it repeatedly hit the mall floor.