Please Save Me
Happy Wednesday everyone, this is still not Lowtax.
In the past 24 hours since starting to maintain this website in Lowtax's absence, I have begun to see subtle changes in my physiology and behavior. While so far it's not particularly pronounced, I've been noticing increased acne, loss of memory, heart palpitations, abnormal hair growth, lapses of blindness, and other unsavory conditions. In other words, I am starting to act like Lowtax. I am dreading that this might be some sort of "Lowtax Syndrome" where by assuming Lowtax's job I will slowly begin resembling him both mentally and physically, much like Tim Allen's character in the holiday classic "The Santa Clause." I am starting to think that maybe Lowtax's "Cancun vacation" explanation for leaving me in charge was actually a carefully planned avenue of escape, where he settles on a remote Caribbean island with the bags of money he's secretly received from eFront and Gamefan, and the profits made from subletting his spacious Malibu apartment which is also made of solid gold. Meanwhile I will have morphed into an unwilling Lowtax-doppelganger, muttering and dyspeptic, who continues updating this site in his stead.
Of course, my symptoms are also oddly similar to those of chronic masturbation, so I might be wrong about the whole thing.
The Forums Suck
Between sipping double margaritas and receiving rubdowns from Hitler clones, Lowtax told me to remind all you readers that the Something Awful forums are, once again, broken. While I simply can't fathom what sort of servers are unable to properly operate forum software for longer than four hours at a time, Lowtax assures me that it's because the eFront technicians have the combined intelligence ofeFront is great! Visit eFront.com for all your gaming, music, entertainment, and shopping needs! "Content, community and channels" -- that's the eFront way!
Lowtax in the Land of the Lost
If you've been chewing your fingernails to the bone wondering if Lowtax made it to Cancun safely and, more importantly, if he is now suffering in hilarious misery, chew no longer! Mr. Kyanka managed to fight off marauding hordes of Aztecs and Cuban refugees long enough to transmit a plea for help cleverly disguised as a humorous article detailing his journey to the Cancun, the Land That Time Forgot.
Our flight was scheduled to depart at approximately -0:30 am, from the lovely Kansas City airport. In case you haven't been fortunate enough to be laid over in KCI or never met the Nazi war criminals who designed it, the airport is essentially a hulking mass of frigid concrete, metal, and brick in the middle of approximately 6,000 acres of abandoned farmland. Airport officials' only attempt at "sprucing up" the place can be shown in their decision to park a mobile hotdog stand next to the women's restroom, so this isn't exactly party HQ. We were fortunate enough to arrive at the airport around 4:30 am on Christmas morning, which means that the flight only carried 99% of its capacity, as opposed to the normal 283% which they try to pack onto each trip. This is known as the process of "overbooking", or "making passengers pay for atrocious crimes they committed in a previous life."
Lowtax has promised to check in with yet more diaries of his Cancun misadventures in the coming days, but for now, feed yourself on Son of Cancun 1: Danger Lurks Near.
Bjørnar B., famed creator of professional-quality Donald Duck ink drawings (assuming of course that the professionals in question are afflicted with Lou Gehrig's disease and are also blind), has created another masterpiece entitled "The whole of the Disney famely wishes you a merry verry Christmas and a happy new year in 2001." It's the perfect post-Christmas piece of holiday cheer. Go partake.
Taco The Rocker
Genetically engineered super-canine Taco the Wonder Dog, who recently got his paws on two Radiohead albums, has cobbled together a new Radiohead-inspired MP3 entitled "Helo i am tomhom yorke tand this is my backpac!@." Download now or risk an eternity wondering if that was Thom Yorke and if that was indeed his backpack.
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.