So, having 9 days off and nothing better to do with my hours of freedom than be a distinguished mentally-challenged hypocrite, I, Drinky X. Crow, am going to wait in line for a Wii.
I have no idea why I'm doing this. The hardware is crap, the waggle rather disaffecting, and the game lineup worthless outside of shining brilliance that is an Aonuma Zelda. As I told my cohort in this worthless adventure, one TVC X. Fifteen, my irony gland is possibly overdeveloped to the point of mental damage. I'm not even sure I'll buy one, although I fear that after waiting in line amid the most sniveling of gaming fanboys, my wallet will be unpleasantly lighter. Rogue adventures in capitalism can cure even the deepest wounds of the soul.
TVC has his mega-camera and his grotesque collection of various Mac products. I have some camp chairs, blankets, malt beverages, and a PSP. I'd like to start a fistfight with a Nintendo fan, if I can muster the cojones, but I'll probably just smile and nod when one of them tells me in his reedy lisp how he once banged a girl that looked just like Samus Aran and how he also flew to Japan to play in a Smash Brothers tournament -- where he banged a girl that looked just like Kirby.
I promise you this, dirty Evilbore dogs: if this fool and his money are parted, I will write the only HONEST Zelda review you will read. Not sputum of the sort extruded into Pagemaker by 1UP's J. Parish or "The Girthmann" but a REAL HONEST ZELDA review that pulls no fucking punches and will hopefully make Wobedraggled cry unless my mind is blown harder than the Michigan defensive line at a blackACID slumber party.
IT HAS BEGUN.