The Tarantino Dilemma: Pulp!
In a way I hate to see the end of this dilemma series. I mean, sure, I’ve been getting the butt-end of most of them, but who doesn’t love an underdog?
Sleepwalking With The Red Cards
The words that hit my brain tell me that whoever’s on the other end of the phone needs me to tell them something, so that things can be made”ready” for whatever it is I’m doing today. I’d really like to give them some creative profanity instead, but it’s early and I’ve practically forgotten how to talk. I hear my gravel-and-salt voice scrape together five words:”Bring me The Red Cards.”
GP Philly in Eight Cards
Telling me I’m terrible is not news.
Sellout, Get the Hell Out
It picks up after I start talking about the U-Haul, I swear.
Grand Prix Detroit Report
I demolished my 1700-flag and all I got were these lousy
packs.
Self-Improvement
As my not-at-all disshevelled appearance attests, it’s one of my passions.
The Value Of Nonoptimal Testing
Online play is like The Stuff: Are you eating it, or is it eating you?
Short Stack Of Chicago
The universe has been putting itself to extremes for me. Usually it contents itself with making things awful, which lets me counteract whatever misery I suffer by telling the world at large. One of the benefits of this column has been that it provides exactly the forum I need, letting me dole out on you,…
My Chthonic Bathroom
There’s some Magic stuff, but mostly I’ve been dreaming unspeakable dreams in my sub-oceanic crypt outside of time. ***** BEGIN ARTICLE ***** If you called me an easygoing guy, I wouldn’t be at pains to disagree. So when my landlord dropped by two weeks ago to give me the news of a week’s worth of…
Well, They Might As Well Be Zombies
This week’s been one of those where forces around you put aside their differences and concentrate on sabotaging your fun. The worst part is that it has happened insidiously. Everyone around me is rediscovering an interest in Magic. Still more terrifying is how smart they all are. I ask Adam for a prediction of the…