Mario Mendoza Would’ve Sure Been Proud…

Rizzo plays against David Williams, Darwin Kastle, Ryan Fuller and Gary Wise at a Neutral Ground Grudge Match!

I had a whole bunch of pages explaining this cool new deck I was going to play, but there were two problems with said pages: The first was the fact that the decklist contained both Planeswalker’s Fury and Mischief. The second was that I decided to injure things instead. Does that mean I’m playing Liquid Tempo or Jason Means Greens – both of which are capable of injuring things? Nah, how’s about…

// Drinkable Ass.dec

4x Fire/Ice

4x Scorching Lava

4x Urza’s Rage

4x Undermine

4x Breath of Darigaaz or Mages’ Contest (tech?)

4x Fact or Fiction

4x Prophetic Bolt

4x Ghitu Fire

3x Yawgmoth’s Agenda

8x Mountain

4x Island

5x Swamp

4x Shivan Reef

4x Salt Marsh


4x Dodecapod

4x Planar Overlay

4x Recoil

3x Vile Consumption

I certainly intend to test the Magic adage that”there are no wrong questions only wrong answers” with a boatload of questions that may or may not be right. And 4x each question at that.

Does anyone need an explanation of the inner workings of this deck? Didn’t think so, for there are no inner workings. Are there things on the board? If so, injure them. If not, take aim at your opponent’s diz and pretend that it’s a thing. Then injure it.

Okay, there is one small inner working of note:

Injure things

Consider dropping Agenda

Injure things

After going into the extra turns three times at the last event with Sunny D, and fully expecting an influx of Domain players this week, I figured I’d have much more fun if I, well, injured things. And Domain is famous for having many things that can be injured, such as Bird and Trench tokens. Then again, they usually drop those when they are just about to win anyway; in lieu of any substantive things to injure, a generic dome will suffice.

This deck is not amazing, Earth-shattering or any other hyperbolic adjective, but it does do one thing very well: It injures things. And sometimes it injures so many things that it actually wins. Other times, it injures so many things that there is noting left to injure, except myself during random galavants whilst waiting another fifty minutes until the next round begins.

I reckon I’ll just start injuring things on turn two and stop when one of has been fatally injured. However, most decks will be annoying and try to prevent me from injuring things, which may or may not work out well for them in the end. Either way, when it’s all said and done there will be a massive pile of things that were injured.

Did I just say”I reckon?”

Of course, we all know that burn decks of this sort do not work. So? I’m 12-18-1 thus far with strategies that did work, or were supposed to work in the hands of any reasonable player. Thus, I’m taking it to the streets – but in this case,”the streets” will be represented by the plethora (never heard, nor used that word until”The Three Amigos,” and I bet you didn’t either) things that get injured.

Hey! Where’s The 1/1 Sexual Dynamo? Would he not help out immensely in the plan to injure things? Well, he kind of would, but by his lonesome he does not injure enough things, and while he’s still my favorite Penthouse Pet of the Year, he can ride the pine and cheer for the rest of his team, who will be busy causing havoc and injuring said things. In addition, he is a thing that can be injured, and I just can’t have other people injuring my things, for that would be unacceptable.

“I got things on my mind I never thought I would.”

-Willa Ford

Every guy on Earth immediately thinks of only one thing when he hears that, while every woman on Earth goes”That can’t be what she means, you sick pig!”

See? Every guy is grinning ear-to-ear and nodding his head thinking”She really never thought she would? Never?” And every woman is now embarrassed and sickened. But nevertheless curious.

Mushcup -“Wasted”

Adema -“Giving In”

System of a Down -“Chop Suey”

Puddle Of Mudd -“Control”

P.O.D -“Alive”

I actually lived long enough to hear a radio station play the above five cool songs in a row without commercial interruption. I can only hope and pray that you do as well. To bring me down from Mt. Olympus after my aural bliss, Mr. Funny DJ guy immediately jumped into Dave Matthews followed by Bad Ronald. Shudder and double shudder.

Rolling On the Floor Laughing My Ass Off!

Now isn’t that easier than typing”ROFLMAO?”

It turns out that I do indeed have one female reader…Unless she turns out to be a guy, in which case I get to be the next Geddes Cooper up on The Net. I think this means that I am now officially permitted to answer the question”what are your hobbies?” with”women, women, and women” ala everyone’s favorite womanizer from Boston or New England or wherever the hell YMG really is.

The next time you get sued, send the following letter to the attorneys of the plaintiff:

Dear Punks,

Why you trying to mize fat beats up on a brother’s dizome? All y’all know your suit is ass, and when the judge topdecks the verdict like he was Gerrard and shiz, y’alls’ll see that I got Bargain in play wif da’ Skirge as my tight mizing man, so either pull an Ed Ficky Fear and draw from your board or scoop ’em up.

Heavens No And Hells Yes Nuggas!

Hella Rules Guru

I presume that Elliot Fertik, The Attorney For Satan, would cower in his boots if he were to receive such a letter. And why does he wear boots with a three-piece suit anyway?

PNC Park update: Four pieces of pizza and four Cokes for the low, low price of $29! But that’s not all! In addition to the nosh bargain of a lifetime, you also get nine innings of The Bad News Bears for adults! Want more? Well, how about ten bucks to park? Still not happy? How would you like an hour of bumper to bumper traffic to cap off a lovely evening thrown in at no additional charge?

Dear Baseball, Football, Hockey, Basketball, and whatever else there is,

Go away.


Jaded Response

The following would be worthy of a”heh” if it wasn’t so annoying:

“Hi! How are you?

I send you this file in order to have your advice

See you later. Thanks”

I got five of those last week. Um, wasn’t this cured like two months ago?

And the band played on…


At this point (Thursday) I am unsure if Neutral Ground is going to actually hold the tourney in Harrisburg on Sunday, so in preparation for them not holding it, and contractually obligated (ironclad, baby!) to write an article this week, I submit the following report. If indeed NG did hold the tourney, you may feel free to ignore the following report, for it is simply a backup, and scroll down to the real report, which may or may not actually be there, since it’s still Thursday and I still (forty seconds later) have no idea if NG is going to hold the tourney.

“Don’t ask about tournaments” adorns NG’s front page. Okay, I won’t. However, I do intend to drive almost four hours into The Jaws of Uncertainty, which is right down the road from The Cliffs of Insanity.

Round 1: Dave Williams

While cutting Dave’s deck, I notice that something just doesn’t feel right. However, I can’t quite put my finger on it (that was almost a pun), so after a few seconds of deliberation, I call a judge.

“There’s something not quite right in Denmark,” offers I to the HZIC (Head Zebra In Charge).

“What’s this crap about Denmark?” barks said zebra.

“It’s an expression, and those stripes do not have a slimming effect,” I offer soothingly.

“Well, I’ll look into it, you paranoid ass,” tenderly brays said zebra.

I feed HZIC some hay and random straw, and he gathers up Williams’ deck and heads off to the plains, feed bag attached.

After thirty minutes or so, zebra comes back and informs Dave that he has just earned himself a match loss. While he couldn’t see any noticeable marking on the cards (nor could I), there seemed to be something amiss, and amiss is enough to be convicted, since our zebra idolizes Judge Wapner. In fact, after every match, said zebra brays”Officer Burrell has some documents you must sign.”

Here’s a pic of a few of Williams’ sleeve backs. Perhaps an intrepid reader can discern noticeable markings – myself and the zebra were unable, but we still believe that something was up:



Round 2: Darwin Kastle

Darwin goes first and thinks for about fifteen minutes before he decides to keep. After another forty five minutes, just before time is called, he finally plays a land. After another thirty minutes, he finally says”go.”

I drop a land and pass. After what turned out to be two and a half hours, I was awakened by a boisterous Darwin loudly exclaiming,”It’s your turn – hurry up and play faster, dammit!”


Round 3: Ryan Fuller

When I introduce myself and offer my hand as a goodwill gesture, Ryan declines and asks about my mother’s horizontal relaxation techniques. While I was touched that he was so concerned with mi madre, I was partially offended that he rejected my hand. Nevertheless, the show must go on.

In the first game, Ryan drops a land and calls me a”mother [edit].” Odd, thought I, that he would be aware that I did indeed have a wife and children, hence the moniker, while crass, is not entirely inaccurate (in it’s basest form, mind you). I relay my kudos on said moniker, and Ryan goes ballistic and pulls out a crossbow, loads an arrow, and threatens to hit me where the Good Lord split me.

I call a judge, and since crossbows are banned in Harrisburg, Ryan is given a match loss.


Round 4: Chris Benefal

This game lasts about one minute. I play a Salt Marsh, and Chris responds by throws a chair that smashes into a little old lady that was watching our match. Of course, this earns Chris a warning, since he only broke her hip and did not fatally wound her.

After the old lady is carted away on a gurney, Chris calms down, lays a land and passes. I drop a Mountain, say”go,” and Chris bolts up from the table, grabs another chair and throws it – which plunks a newborn infant in a baby carriage. This earns him another warning, since, luckily, the baby was wearing a crash helmet and only required fifty-six stitches to close the severe facial lacerations.

After sitting back down and looking at his hand, Chris shouts a few obscenities, grabs another chair and hurls – it lambastes a second baby in a second baby carriage. This baby was not wearing a crash helmet, and the injuries were severe enough that Chris was awarded a match loss.


Round 5: Gary Wise

We ID.


Round 6: Heh, Gary Wise again!

We ID.


Round 7: Gary Wise yet again!

We ID.


Round 8: I get a bye into the Top Eight.

However, I am not happy, since I didn’t get an opportunity to ID into the Top Eight, so I offer my bye a draw.

We ID.



I’m in as the first seed after the swiss. The Top Eight:

1. Me

2. Gary Wise

3. Omeed

4. A bag of weed

5. A swatch of tweed

6. Pernicious Deed

7. Tony Boydell

8. Gary Wise again!

Quarterfinals vs. Gary Wise

We ID. However, the HZIC informs us that we really should play, since if we both refuse, we will both get booted from the tourney. Reluctantly, we roll the dice, which I win, and Gary concedes.

Aw, shucks, chief. We embrace, and like the clever little nutbag I am, I manage to grab a piece of Gary’s ass and blame it on the bossa nova.

Semifinals vs. Tony Boydell

As I sit down to play, I’m quite pleased to meet Boney Toney in the flesh, so I offer up my hand and a”Sup, chief?” Anthony”Tony” Boydell, however, doesn’t know who I am and pelts me with a coon-skin cap that he apparently had hidden in his trousers. After I stop bleeding, the HZIC informs us that Antonio has earned a match loss, but plenty of style points for pelting me with something that came from his crotch.

Finals vs. Gary Wise again!

We try to ID again, and again are dissed by the judge. I manage to roll a 1, while Gary comes out strong with a twenty. I start to sob gently, and Gary produces a kerchief from his front pocket. After lovingly wiping away my tears, he tells me that he will concede, since a) he’s already Q’d for New Orleans, b) he wasn’t even allowed to play in this qualifier, c) had conceded to me in the semifinals, so what’s one more scoop? and d) he’d like to wipe more tears from mine eyes, and a concession would make me sob like a little bitch.

I’m going to New Orleans!



Gary Wise for the two scoops of raisins!

Becky and her format-breaking hymen! (Warning – this link leads to something fairly obscene, so don’t say I didn’t warn you – but on the other hand, why the hell are you reading Rizzo if you’re easily offended, for Chrissake? Sheesh. – The Ferrett)

The Head Zebra In Charge for calling them hard, but fair.

Team AlphaBetaUnlimited.com for being ass enough to get me two victories!

Darwin Kastle for hooking me up with a few of his”Women, women, and mo’ women!”


Not being allowed to ID in the Top Eight! ;-(

The old lady that Benefal nailed – osteoporosis is ass!

Mothers who bring their children to Magic tourneys without strapping a crash helmet on them.


See you in New Orleans! I’ll be the guy who swipes the vibrator from Alex Shvartsman bag and carries it as a torch of pride!

John Friggin’ Rizzo


Neutral Ground has officially announced that the Sunday PTQ is a go. And I already wrote that damned nutty-ass”backup” report. Well, what’s another four pages anyway? Oh, and I played a few games of Apprentice (against a friggin’ grrrl too!) with Drinkable Ass, and got my drink drank drunk and belched back up at me.

Getting beaten into oblivion is not so bad; getting beaten into oblivion by a grrrl is not so bad; sucking at Magic, however, is kind of bad, especially when I know that I can, well… Not suck at Magic if I so choose. But that’s another article: the innate desire human beings have to lose and thus suffer (prepare your oral arguments now – you have been warned).

Friday Night Magic (which basically means: I got beat by a grrrl and this is how I changed my deck):

// Drinkable Ass.dec, version whatever

4x Fire/Ice

4x Scorching Lava

4x Urza’s Rage

4x Prophetic Bolt

4x Fact or Fiction

4x Ghitu Fire

3x Repulse

3x Exclude

3x Mages’ Contest

3x Evasive Action

10x Mountain

10x Island

4x Shivan Reef


4x Dodecapod

4x Planar Overlay

3x Gainsay

4x Breath of Darigaaz

Two colors = good mana. Too bad the deck is a mouthful of ass, that, coincidentally, is drinkable.

Heh, Mages’ Contest and nine situational counters. Heh, isn’t it getting amazingly hard to root for me lately? Heh, even I want to smack myself up the diggitty and ask,”What the hell is your problem?”

The thing with Mages’ Contest is that most people will stop to read it (hey, it’s Mana Cache all over again!) and then do one of two things:

1) Roll their eyes, say”whatever,” and let their spell be countered for a singleton life.

2) Bid very, very wrong.

Like Good Ol’ Uncle Aaron Forsythe said (sort of): Fact or Fiction allows PTQ players to make more mistakes than they normally would have to. To that I may add that Mages’ Contest just might do the same thing. Or maybe I’ll bid like sixteen life and get Bolted into the stratosphere.

Heh, someone kick my ass, for I’ve passed annoying a long time ago.

Man, is”Heh” getting on your nerves as much as it gets on mine?

I am good at Magic.

Friday night my car decided that transmissions are ass, thus refused to go into any gear that resulted in movement forward or backward. I fired off mail to T-bag, telling him to take a bus to Harrisburg, for Johnny Come Lately would be coming so lately (like not at all) that he’d be better off if he just forgot all about me. And don’t look back – it’s too painful.

However, the wifey had plans for Sunday that fell through, which meant that she, um, had a car that would be sitting idle. It was her idea for me to get up out of her face and take her ride to da’ other burg, I swear. It probably had something to do with the fact that I constantly motion to random women and say”she wants me” whenever there is a woman within a five square mile radius. What – like I’m the only guy that does that?

Look out Harrisburg, the capital of our beloved tax-you-to-death Commonwealth, for Liquid Ass is comin’ up on ya’.

Who goes 3-3-1 and gains 41 points? See, it pays to suck – when you can manage to go 50-50, you can see insanely stupid jumps, even all the way up over The Mendoza Line. Wait a minute…The Mendoza Line is a .200 batting average, which is awful as all hell, so it seems to follow that The Rizzo Line could be a rating (Constructed, Limited, or Composite) of 1600. Nah, 1600 is what everyone starts with, which means that there isn’t much shame in falling below it; perhaps a 1500 rating would be good? Yep, if you fall below 1500, you are sucking it up on the ass side of The Rizzo Line.

And now, a message from our founder:

Dear Fellow Assy Players,

On 4/2900, I fell below The Rizzo Line (Constructed) for the first time, dropping to 1493 after an 0-5 at Regionals. Heh, I left after round three, but apparently, the Organizer, in all his blood lust, decided to keep me in for another two rounds, which cost me 28 points while I was driving down I-70. If my round four opponent had been kind enough to mark”drop” next to my name, I may have never, ever, dropped below 1500. Ah, fate is a fickle little mistress.

On 8/5, I managed to jump above The Rizzo Line, getting all the way up to 1508, before dropping back to my fun little 1493. I almost made it, oh my brothers! I saw the light, oy, only temporarily, but how the warm beam shone upon my lid!

For three and a half months I was to live in pride, with my head held high above My Line. However, The Universal Net Deck had other ideas, just as intended. On 11/18/00, I saw my sexy 1543 culminate in an 1-6 (friggin’ byes!) day, plunging me into the depths of hell: 1473. Almost a year later, it would take a very, very bad day for me to see the line that made me famous again – I’m sitting, um,”pretty” at 1621 after one Top Eight and several good-enough-to-avoid-The-Rizzo-Line days.

And how’s this for tech: I have never spent even one second below The Rizzo Line in Limited. And that’s a year and a half, chiefs. Ah, Pittsburgh, home of Limited Skillz By Default. My 1677 was a once respectable 1753, until I ran into Josh Bennett in Detroit. Losing to OMC is like French kissing your sister: It feels really, really good, but it’s just plain wrong (damn Puritans!) and will lead you down the road of ruin, at least temporarily.

I truly feel for those who are sitting on the bad side of The Rizzo Line. Hang in there, chiefs, for eventually you must win a match, which just may catapult you into the stratosphere of bad playerdom, which is much better than the ass that is looking up at 1500.

You can succeed…You can succeed…You can succeed…You can succeed.


Awesome Player Rizzo

CEO, COO, CFO, LFO, ELO, EMO, ELMO: The Rizzo Line, Inc.

I awoke at 3:18 on Sunday morn to goldfish a few cups of Drinkable Ass: Damn I’m good against helpless, non-existent opponents. In fact, my goldfish rating is nearing 2300.

Drive. Arrive.

Upon arriving at the Gray Matter venue of choice, The Bag and I are accosted by one Dan Ford, who is scantily clad, strung out, and in dire need of…something. Dude looked all like Pookie in”New Jack City,” hopping and sniffing around like the crack be calling him.

“You guys got cards? I need some cards,” desperately pines Dan.

“Um, dude, go to rehab and stuff,” blurt The Bag and I simultaneously and at the same time.

“The cards be calling me, they be calling me, yo!” moans Pookie – er, Dante.

It seems that Dan, who lives like thirty seconds away, entrusted his decks to some, um,”friends.” Well, you know how it is: Don’t get high on your own supply. However, Dante did eventually get his fix, although it was very much a bad trip, with more than a few trips to the losers bracket.

“They be calling me, yo!”


The Bag (much like The Ron, as in”The Ron Martin”) – The Solution Again

Spikey Mikey”Pat-ass” Patnik – Andyj.dec Again

Nathan Peter Heiss – Chapin.dec

Chiggitty Chas Tressler – AndyJ.dec

Chiggitty Chas’ Brother – Angel Go-ish Thing Again

Bryan”Band-ass” (oh, how Tbag is creative) Bandes – Domain

Ryan Dhuse Dhuse Revolver Was My Problem Solver – R/G Fatties

A word about D.D. Revolver: Apparently, the new Deranged to the Diggitty last played competitive Magic at the Mirage Prerelease. One evening, he wandered into The O, said sup to a couple guys, and the next thing you know, he’s borrowing a deck and tagging along wif some of the boys to Chicago for a PTQ.

Down with the sickness? Tru dat.

Heh, it’s a world of Pookies out there.

Here’s something funny that’s not really funny, but a little odd perhaps:

Gray Matter likes peeps to fill out their registration, pay their beans, and then gives said player a deck registration to fill out and turn in during round one. Odd, indeed, ain’t it?

By the time I found this out, however, I was face to face with one Dave”Super Mad On, Super Wrong Guy” Meeson. You may remember Dave from the articles he used to write for Star City.”Used to” until, as he claims,”work got real busy” or some other lame ass excuse.

Quick – go look at his pic. Doesn’t he look like a mean sumbitch? Well, it ain’t true at all – he’s a teddy bear, although a six foot four teddy bear. Little by little I’m finding out about these mysterious Net writer guys: The Ron Martin, Shawn Jackson, Dan Rowland, Matt Smith, Sean McKeown, Da’ Right Reverend Toby Wachter, Anthony Alongi, Josh Bennett, Adrian Sullivan, edt, and probably a whole bunch more – they are all soft and cuddly teddy bears, just like me.


I would be finding out about The Ferrett as well, since I planned to go to Akron to hang with said Ferretious One for the Prerelease, but a quick jaunt back up to the story about my transmission, combined with the fact that the wifey just might be chauffeuring my dead ass to tourneys, make Ferrett a dull boy. And too far away, which is all his fault, what with being afraid to come into Pennsylvania and all. (I’m frickin TAIR-oh-fied – The Ferrett)

On with the bloodshed!

Round 1: Shawn Spielman, U/G/R whatever they’re calling it this week

Wow, does Mages Contest suck, and Shawn is almost able to contain his pity for me when I cast it, pay three life to counter something that must’ve meant a lot more to me than to him, and slowly get whittled to death by a little 2/1 fat Goose and a Bolt to and fro.

Hey, siding in Breath would be a good idea, if it weren’t for the fact that Shante doesn’t quite mind when I Breath – since, again for the slow people (like me), he is with domers. Said domers do quite a number on my bean, and drawing all four Shivan Reef doesn’t help either.

I think I’m figuring out how to play my deck a little: go to game two so I can side out Contest, and pray they get mana screwed. Hard.


Round 2: Mike Pillsbury, R/G

Dude had the biggest lollipop I’ve ever seen on a human. It must’ve been ten inches around, and I have a pic to prove it. Unfortunately, the pics took, but didn’t. I like broken cameras. I later overheard Mike say that he’s been chomping on that bad boy for about a week. It really was that big.

Ha ha, Mongoose is funny in game one. My life goes from twenty to two in ten turns, but I did manage to Bolt Mike three times. Moral victory?

Ha ha, Mongoose is funny in game two when I can’t find a Breath. My life goes from twenty to six in two point increments, and just when I thought it was safe to go back into the water, he asks if I would have a problem with being double Raged.

There are no wrong questions, only wrong answers!


Round 3: John Armstong, U/G/R thing

In game one, the spirit of Mary Van Tyne comes up in here:

I’m at three and John’s at six when he casts Ghitu Fire for three, leaving open only one mana. I drop a Contest, and the bidding begins. When he bids three (with much hesitation mind you), I say”You got it, chief,” and let him know that Ghitu Fire is still on the stack. I drop Evasive Action on said Fire and Rage him silly, for I’m silly like that.

MVT rulez! Or was that”MTV?”

FrigginRizzo: <---Remembers when MTV played videos and stayed away from social engineering.

In game two, John decides to draw a bunch of painlands and tries to kick up Skizzik on three successive turns, meeting a Repulse, Ice, and Exclude. When he’s at seventeen, I Rage him, let a Skizz kick me on the teeth and put me at five, with the plan being to Rage him wif da’ kicks eot and untap and Bolt him into oblivion. I drop a fat Rage, untap and, well, he only has one card in hand….”Bolt you?” Heh, Gainsay that sucka. Now die!!!!!!

Game three is a festival of painlands and the pain that comes from said lands for John. He pings himself for nine, which makes my Bolt and Ghitu Fire for seven hurt enough to garner me a friggin’ victory.

Neat event: During one of the games I held eight cards and had to discard.”I have to discard,” said I to John, and after I discarded, he said”end of turn Bolt you.” I responded with da Facts and a little Fictions, and then wondered if I had to discard again, since I now held ten cards. So, like a friggin’ idiot, I called a judge. I just wanted to know if I had to discard again, and he turned it into a stinkin’ inquisition.

After about a bazillion hours, the judge decided to give us both warnings for something (I forget what and it doesn’t matter). A warning when John and I could have easily figured it out ourselves. However, I had to be Mr. Let’s Learn The Rules, thus the warning came down. Alwyas call a judge is sounding even assier than I thought it did before.


Chris Benefal throws a chair at a PRO TOUR (REL 5) – Penalty: warning.

Two Johns have an timing incident during clean up in a PTQ (REL 3) – Penalty: warning.


Round 4: Mark Powell, R/W Trenches N’at

Chief has Captain’s Maneuver. Man, that’s annoying as all hell when I Ghitu Fire for seven and have it thrown back in my face. Needless to say, from there on in I play super cautiously when he bluffs da’ Maneuvers, which is every turn. He whittles me down to eight with Rages and a Dega Disciple wearing Squee’s Embrace, but I manage to Ice his lone red source and Ghitu for the win. He turned over a Rage – he was bluffing. Not fair to make an old man sweat like that, young’un.

Game two is a repeat of game one, except that I’m paranoid about da’ Maneuvers and play like a little bitch because of it, which allows Marcus to drop untold Rages and Skizzies on my dome.

Ice, Ice baby comes to town big time in game three, keeping his Maneuverin’ ass at bay whilst I smack his chops with lovin’ from the oven. Oh, and drawing two Excludes in a row, along with a Facts or da’ Fictions that reveals two Repulse, two Fire/Ice and the case Exclude helped. A little.

Voice of All came to town for Mark, but dude just watched it get bounced twice and Excluded, and since he was busy spending his mana, I was able to drop pain up on his dome. Still, I had to sweat Maneuvers, even though he was bluffing again. I should’ve called a judge, dammit!

2-2 with Drinkable Ass

Round 5: Allan Jackson, R/W/U Trenches N’at, and yeah, I bet he’s heard all the Alan Jackson jokes already, so, um, don’t bother.

Game one sees me get a Bolt Disrupted. Do you know how much that hurts?

“Do you know how much that hurts?”

-Vin Diesel, Boiler Room

From there it was bad times, with Allan drawing just enough Bolts and making just enough tokens to take me to school. Tech tip: Fire/Ice is kind of good against Trenches. But not good enough.

Siding in the Breaths would be peachy, if Allan didn’t drop a turn three Trenches and just let it sit there, mocking me. In fairness, chief did draw two more Bolts than I did, and at least three Gainsays as well. Oh, and I died with three, yes three, Breaths in my hand. And he had Rage too, dammit!


Round 6: Andrew Gioia, Funny Discard-Mar

I get off a Contest that only cost me three life. Hey, Galina’s Knight is a bitch, and three life is a pittance to rid myself of that bad boy. So, Andrew just makes another one. Fun. Ny. He also manages to Verdict me twice, Rat me thrice and otherwise disrespect his elder something fierce with Rages and Mages and Rages, oh friggin’ my.

Hi, name’s John, and I drew four Rages in a row. Hi, name’s Andrew, and I just cast Lobotomy on your ass. Hello yourself. I did manage to get a FattyPod into play from a Rat, but Vindicate fits nicely in the color scheme that chief decided to play. Wow, I even suck at dropping free 5/5s.


Round 7: Danny Nolastanameforsomereason, R/G

Goose? In response, I’ll Bolt you. One whole time.

Game two is all about a turn five Overabundance, and my utter lack of inexperience with it. I’m holding double Rage and Ghitu Fire and thinking that this is good times for me. He’s at sixteen when I Fire him for nine and then Bolt him down to five. However, I’m now at four from ‘Budance and Goose lovin’, and chief thinks that double Rage would be tech, especially since I can’t ever cast a friggin’ spell ever never ever ever never ’cause I’ll friggin’ die as soon as I tap a friggin’ land.

Okay, da ‘Bundance is kinda good vs. blue. Duh.

2-5 Heh.

Best thing about the day, other than I got to play Magic all day:

The tourney started at 10:15, and by 6:00, the Top Eight were being announced. That’s seven rounds of swiss in less than eight hours. Talk about Mr. McFeeley up in here! Personally, I blame Super Meeson Guy – dude got skillz, even though he is way too busy to write anymore. Ah, I wouldn’t be surprised if Super Dave came with an article out of the clear blue sky; you can only call someone a”non-writing nerd” so many times before they snap and bring it with the quill. I told you he was a teddy bear.

The Bag – 23

The Nate – 24

The Pat-ass – 35

The Band-ass – 37

The Chas’ Brother – 40

The Dhuse Dhuse Revolver – 51

The Chas – 1-2-1 Plunk

The Drinkable Ass – 55. Dead last and looking forward to Odyssey Limited.

Ah, Limited, my forte. Sort of. A little. Very little. What do you make of a guy who can do fairly well when someone gives him a pack of cards and says”build something” but, left to his own devices (Constructed) will create entirely new levels of suckiness?

Well, you call them ass – Drinkable Ass. Or Potable Ass, which sounds more, well, like something a Boy Scout would say. And that’s what life is all about: he who dies with the most Merit Badges wins. Or was that Cub Scouts and Webelos that got the stinkin’ badges?

We all sucked. But I really sucked. And the Rizzo Line is a-comin’ up on me faster than greased mongoose.

Hmm, five qualifiers, five different decks. And what to show? Well, 14-23-1.


Mario Mendoza would’ve sure been proud …I would’ve used the rest of the lyrics from that Charlie Daniels Band jam – you know the one:”the last thing that I wanted was to get in a fight, in Jackson, Mississippi on a Saturday night,” but even Google couldn’t point me the way to the correct lyrics.

Tip: quit putting up lyrics for”Devil Went Down To Georgia;” there’s like 7,309,370,934,039 pages that already have it. Gimme the friggin’ lyrics for that”via Omaha” song, damnit!

Ooh, I know what I’ll do – I’ll put up lyrics for”Devil Went Down To Georgia” cause no one ever thought of that! Especially since that little Dominique chick used that as her tumbling song in the Atlanta olympics.

Why do I do this to myself?

Why don’t I just pack it up?

Why do I still play this game?



‘Cause I like it.

John Friggin’ Rizzo