This was the best I could do. I regret nothing.

Good afternoon. I assume its afternoon as you’re reading this, because you’re all horrendous slackers. That’s alright, I am too, and that’s actually why we’re all here. Together. Forever. I would like to share with you all a few things I’ve discovered recently, while drinking scotch at 3 in the morning for the past week.

1.       Scotch is, in fact, the most wonderful thing ever invented. It is much, much better than the affection of a child or the love of a good woman. Anyone else who tells you differently is clearly just trying to hoard the scotch for themselves and should, for that reason, be carefully followed home every night for at least a month. Once his or her daily pattern has been established, as well as their general likes and dislikes (easily found by watching their tv from across the street), they should be seduced so that their key may be taken and copied. Preferably, this will be done by Jason Statham, as he has demonstrated aptitude for such an act in The Italian Job. It shouldn’t really matter whether the hoarder is male or female, as all men are driven, almost biologically, to obey such a glorious alpha male. Women just really dig bald muscle-y kung-fu dudes. Once a copy of the key has been obtained, leisurely enter the hoarder’s place of residence and remove all of their scotch. Also, leave a loaded Winchester shotgun wherever they were keeping their scotch in order to better facilitate their depression driven suicide.

2.       Caster Shells are awesome. They always have been, and they make Outlaw Star awesome. It is a terrible shame that episodes are impossible to find on the internet.

3.       Space-ships that forego missile and laser attacks for hand to hand combat with giant axe-wielding waldos is a combat strategy that, no matter what the situation, will always succeed provided there’s a nude android girl floating in a tank of coolant helping you pilot your ship. Also, snarky j.a.r.v.i.s.-esque robot voices named Gilliam and really, just spectacular red-black hair and a tank-top. Center-points for any space fight, to be sure

4.       I fear that the stress of trying to come up with an astounding super-awesome blog post as web master has led me to crack, and my newfound affection for childlike shows about space-ships that wrestle and guns that shoot magic is just evidence of my growing insanity.

5.       If I turn up to the next meeting wearing nothing but post-it-notes with penises drawn on them, know that I blame Will.