- Zubon over at Kill Ten Rats has been driven from the fold like the infirm gazelle is culled by ravening hyenas on the African savanna. (Please don't fact check that.) It seems that a perfect storm of gold spammers and lingering bugs have forced him to cancel his Wahammer account. As much as I'm enjoying the game, I can't entirely blame him.
- His story reminds me of something I haven't thought of in quite a while. When I was in high school, I played in the marching band. Saxophone to be precise. We traveled to many places in the state to compete, usually with one long trip to avoid all the same local bands. I always sat in the stands after we had competed to watch some of the other performances. This is always an odd thing since the free seats are on the opposite side of the field, so listening to the music is strange. but there is not much else to do.
- On one such occasion, I was sitting with a bunch of my friends as one rather ambitious band played. All along the back of the field, cages of doves were placed in preparation of the big finale. This is not a usual occurance in the small town I grew up in, so we were all fascinated that anyone would go to all the trouble. As expected, the cages were opened at the end of performance and a few bird flew out. It was not the most impressive display, but we all agreed that it was pretty cool.
- All except my friend, Tim. The birds, positioned along the back of the field near us, flew up over our stands as they fled the stadium. As they rose, they dropped balast like a rising hot air balloon and some of that balast splattered on Tim. He was a pretty laid back character, so he didn't blow up. But whatever enjoyment the rest of us were having was no longer shared by him.
- Zubon just got shit on by his game, so I don't blame for not wanting to play anymore.
To quote my wife, "frickin' birds."
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