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Chris:

Right. I did have a rant pre-prepared, but it seems rather pointless now. All I did was bitch about those going to Manifest, and in the end, only a handful did. A good deal of those who didn't attend ended up going to a "Social Revolution," the braintrust of Ciarne and Connell. (I'll scan the invitations later. They're a larf.) So that took up all of Friday, and on Saturday night, something unsavoury occurred, which meant I couldn't get home until 9am, without sleep, to then move house. I passed out at 3am. Yeah... that's much better than Manifest.

The phone's been out since then, so I'm putting up Friday's today. It happens, I guess.

Oh, and I'm working on a few things for the site. Very hush-hush.

And once more, Goombas are the New Coke.

12:46am:
Just a quick addition. I now no longer have any reason to be bitter about not having fans. So if you catch me bitching one more time, you can send all your hate-mail to me. Even all of it going to MT, and all those other webcomics. I'd deserve it.

A thanks. To the fans.

James:

Uhh... yeah. Hey. Umm... yeah. Chris, what the hell am I even doing here? You're taking precious gaming time away from me. OK, OK... I'll write something.

So-o... umm. I'll just go now. Divine Divinity calls.