Just Talkin Games 3 (patron exclusive) (Patreon)

I know everyone's been itching to see another one of these, or at least one guy has. I think i'm going to make these a patron exclusive thing because i don't want to flood the channel with them. Lucky yoo. 

Lets see, what games do i be talkin bout dis time? Howz aboot summadat dare fukkin uh Q-BERT. Yeh. Dats whut duh fukkin kids today want. Dats what they talkin bout at fukkin recess and lunch and latchkey and fukkin catykism. Dats Whut they talkin bout when dey finger each udder under duh fukkin bleachers as the sun sets on those summer day of one's youth that once gone can never be experienced again, and will come at you in waves of deeply somber nostalgia for the rest of your miserable, colorless adult life. Good old fucking Q-bert. Classic. Let's kill ourselves. 

Then there's Rayman Legends and Red Faction and a bunch of other shit. Some Resident Evil stuff as if everyone's not sick of me talkin bout that shit. Umm... Rime. Uh... Rise of the... fuckin... kasai? and uh... OH YEAH FUCKIN ROGUE GALAXY BABY HELL YEAAAH AAAAAAAAHHHHH. Also Soma.

I hope hearing me just talk about games is to your liking. If it isn't I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. I am always very sorry. I will lash myself if that's what it takes to continue suckling on the teat of your life nourishing financial sustenance. 

I have to get my oil changed today. There's nothing interesting about that it's just my errand for the day. This is a blog now. This is my blog. Today I'm going to get my oil changed and probably buy new shoes. My adidas have big flappy holes in the front like old hobo boots and a spider moved into my good converse, so I have no choice. I have to cut my losses and drop a hot 60 on some fresh nikes. After that I'll probably drive my car into the ocean or something. 

I'm a sneaker-head. That's my thing now. I'm gonna buy 50 pair of shoes. 50 pair of Parrish shoes. PARRISH fucking shoes. Like Alan fucking Perish. His father made shoes. I'm talking about Rob Williams character in Jumanji, people. Get with the program. Get with my fucking hot 1995 Jumanji references. None of that modern reboot dwayne the rock johnson amy pond kevin hart jack black jablinsky games bullshit. Miss me with that shit, members of my immediate social circle (or as the kids say FAM). I'm going to grow a Gods-be-damned handlebar moustache and then we'll see who's cool. It's me, you clowns. It was always destined to be I. 

It's time to become another person. I will rise from the sea with a cool new shoe on my whale's bone peg leg, covered in culturally inconsistent sailor tattoos to represent my many travels, with a big yellow rain coat and a fuckin tobaccy pipe that i smoke with an old-timey rope-lighter on windy days. I'm gonna have big wild sideburns like fucking 90s comics feral wolverine when he lost his adamantium and lived in the forest running with the fukkin wolves. Forget the handlebar moustache i changed my mind, it's all about big wild wolf-man wolverine sideburns. Episode 3 is the best star wars movie, it's better than Empire. Fight me. Wait, don't. I don't know if i believe me and i almost certainly don't care.

lemon-lime is the best gatoraide flavor, if you come at me with that cherry shit i will vomit a crimson wave on your custom-tailored tux and ruin the whole fancy golf-club wedding. Die. 

Love me.