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I Did Something Really Amazing Today


Yufster

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Okay, it's sort of exciting, right. I don't know if you guys know about this technology yet; it's called snail mail. I think it's new or something, because I haven't seen it around before. Anyway, I posted my first email today, although I think they called it something else in that place.

 

Who wants to hear about my first 'snail mail' ever? And does this mean the world is imploding?

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Well if you insist, I'll tell you all about it.

 

So I went in with this little Leprechaun thing and a card, and I was like, "Yeah I want to send this to America" and she's all "Okay, do you have an envelope?" and I'm totally, "What? Don't you just put it in a machine or something? And it pops out the other side of the world?" And she's all, "No, sweety. We mail it. With 'planes?" and I'm completely, "Oh, right." Only I didn't really understand at all so I just kept talking and I said, "So should I be at an airport now or something?" And she's like, "I'll weigh it for you." So she puts it on this thing and then she says, "65 cent" and I'm totally, "Oh, er, right. Where do I put it?" And she's all, "In my hand." So I'm like, "Right." so I put it in her hand and then the next thing she starts putting the Tiny Leprechaun and the Card into an envelope and sticking STICKERS all over it that say, "Postage Paid - An Avion" or something. And I'm totally worried about what she's doing with my Tiny Leprechaun and my Card, and then she's all like, "Write the address on the Envelope." So I'm all, "What, and the guys name?" And she's all, "yeah" so I write down his name and she's all, "That's his name?" And I'm "Yeah." And she's giving me this funny look as though I'd written down something insulting in some way, and then she says, "Right, cya." And I just stand there and look at here and she coughs and says, "Next" so I'm thinking maybe she forgot I was here so I keep standing there and she says, "next" a bit louder and I hand her the Envelope back and I'm like, "What do I do with it?" Because it's not like going anywhere or anything, and she's all, "Put it in the goddamn postbox outside, Okay?!!!" And I'm all like, "What?" And she gets up and leads me outside and points to this green box and says, "Put it in that hole!" And I'm all, "It doesn't look very electronic-looking to me... where does it go?" So she totally snatches the letter off me and shoves it into this HOLE in a WALL and after a couple of seconds I hear this echoey TUT!!! sound as it hits the bottom where there must have been like 50 other 'letters'. So I frantically try to fit my hand through the box screaming, "I'll never get it out! You bitch! You bitch!" and she starts screaming back at me, "You're a moron! A man will open this box tonight, take out all the letters, and bring them to the Airport, where they will be flown to America, and then sorted out and brought to wherever they're intended! Do you understand?" But I was too busy screaming and pee'ing in my pants to really listen to her.

 

But, on the whole, the experience was quite exhilarating and I would recommend other people to try this new, unique and slow method of communication.

 

I mean, especially if you are sending animals. They give every letter its own seat on an air'plane!!! Maybe if you pay extra, you can get a first-class seat for your letter. Who knows?!

 

A word of warning: the initial shock of the final parting goodbye to your letter can last quite a while. I was in agony for the rest of the day, wondering about that letter. Will I ever see it again? Will I? Does 'The Post Office' send a copy of every mail you send into some sort of special 'Sent items' folder? What kind of deranged communication system IS this?

 

JeSUS.

 

If you have a 'Post Office' near you, perhaps you should check it out sometime.

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That enchants me. The profound mystery of what you have just explained sets my heart on fire. You whisper soft, delicate words of mail in my ear that intrigues and inspires, enthralling me with your magic talk of primitve e-mail. Stories involving bad tasting adhesives attatched to stamps, paper cuts, and long lines reminiscent of DMV trips fill my brain and linger in my mind. They intoxicate me with this intricate system of communication and corespondence you so elegantly call 'snail mail'. I realize, now, that your very soul is a swirling miasma of scintillating thoughts and turgid ideas, causing me to crave more and more deeply constructed 'letters' which touch something inside of me. There is also a hidden eloquence in your voice that really makes me want to eat pepperoni.

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That depends. It depends on who you are, my fine american bastard friend.

 

I mean, on one hand, who knows? You could be that person, in disguise, for the past since-the-beginning-of-time. You could come on to these forums to spy, because you are an asshole. On the other hand, it's probably not you. You are nothing alike. Yet something compells me to wonder, is any one of us really who we claim to be? What if we are all just a bunch of Game Designers pretending to be other people on this forum, so that we can spy and hear what people say about us? I might be Dave Grossman. Might be. Andy could be Tim Schafer, and Meksilon might have been John Romero. And what if we didn't ever find out that we were all Game Designers in disguise, and we totally made idiots of ourselves for the rest of our lives? What if all I ever wanted to do was come here to hear the latest bitchniques on Ron Gilbert, but I got drawn into the conversation because we had this SECRET BOND BECAUSE SECRETLY WE'RE ALL GOOD FRIENDS THAT LIVE IN SAN FRANCISCO AND (USED TO) WORK AT LUCASARTS! AND IF WE EVER FOUND OUT THAT WE WERE ALL LYING TO EACH OTHER WE'D BE REALLY REALLY ANGRY AND THEN WE'D ALL BREAK UP OUR SACRED FRIENDSHIP AND MAKE GAMES ABOUT EACH OTHER DYING AND CRIED AND CRIED LIKE IN THE END OF A CHICK FLICK WHEN EVERYTHING IS GOING TO GO HOPELESSLY WRONG, OR LIKE IN THE END OF THAT JONOTHY ZELLARS MOVIE SYNOPSIS I WROTE, AND THEN ONE DAY ONE Of US COMES BACK TO POST HERE AND EVERYBODY ELSE IS PRETENDING TO BE ANGRY STILL SO THEY POST BACK AND THEN ALL OF A SUDDEN A SMILE LIGHTS IN THE CORNER OF OUR MOUTHS AND WE ALL START SMILING AND THEN WE START LAUGHING AND WE SEE THE FUNNY SIDE AND THEN WE ALL BECOME FRIENDS AGAIN AND HOLD HANDS AND LAUGH AND CRY AND SOB WITH HAPPINESS, AND THEN WE ALL PITCH IN A COUPLE THOUSAND DOLLARS AND PRODUCE A GAME SO ORIGINAL, AND SO TOUCHING, THAT IT LITERALLY MAKES PEOPLE ACROSS THE GLOBE WEEP FOR SHEER JOY, EXCEPT JOHN ROMERO BECAUSE HE WAS BANNED A LONG TIME AGO FROM THIS PLACE. LUCKILY I DON'T THINK THAT'S GONNA HAPPEN, BECAUSE IF YOU EVER FOUND OUT WHO I REALLY WAS, HOOO BOY WOULD I LOOK LIKE A DUMB MORON!!!

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but then.. if I am not ray jones.. who else is it?? somebody has to be ray jones. and who am i? i mean.. i am not even sure anymore now. i used to think i was ray jones. but if i think about it.. you could be right.. i could be lying all the time. but we'll never find out. my imitated broken english is superb and due to the incoherence of my posts .. i even could be yufster without that you ever will know this really..

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NO! IT'S ALL A LIE! YOU'RE LYING! YOU ARE!

 

Don't SAY such things! The world is made of walls and screens and keyboards and floors and mice and sewing kits and pencils! I also RESENT what Dav- YUFSTER last said. I would not CRY! I would just sniffle a little tiny bit. Sheesh!

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Originally posted by Orca Wail

There is a world where people talk face to face as well, and a thing with no ceiling and the carpet is alive and they call it grass.

All right, all right. Now hold your noise! We don't believe your stinking lies. Life is a myth.

 

EDIT: See, Alia knows the truth!

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Tim, I'm afraid these people continue to deny their existence as Game Designers. Is it that sad an existence that they must hide it?

 

Hey, we'll talk about this over coffee.

 

Simons Olympic Deli.

 

1:00pm.

 

Today.

 

We'll steal a couple of salt shakers while we're there.

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