There, I said it. It’s out there, go ahead and mock my basement-dwelling, Mountain Dew-chugging, cheese puff-eating tushie. I play D&D. And y’know what? I enjoy it. It’s freakin’ fun.
There’s something missing from the D&D experience though. At times, the adventure can seem a bit too disconnected from the reality we live in (fancy that). Noting this, I took it upon myself to add a new class to the ranks of Barbarian, Wizard, Ranger, and the like, a hero for a more refined age.
Ladies, Gentlemen, and otherwise… I present the Democrat character class for D&D 3.5!
Since Clunkline has just entered its new glorious auspicious second phase of righteous harmony, known to non-party-members as Clunkline 2.0, we as the Clunkline staff feel it’s necessary at this juncture to issue a review of the past two years of Clunkline history.
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Preface by the Abbot Anslwyth in the time of King Henry VII:
These scripts, having been found on the old battlefield by a local farmer wound inside a glass spirits bottle, represent a great communication of our historic Royal Army from the time of the last offensive against the crown of England. Herein lie the last independent leaders of Gwynedd, and possibly insight into their demise. They are studiously replicated in the librarium of the Abbey by Brother Angloham.
July 14th, 1376
From: The camp of Lieutenant Llywelyn Fawr
To: His Lordship Owain Glyndŵr, Prince Of Gwynedd
Subj: For Gwynedd!!!
We at Clunkline love to network with our tubemates out there or the internet. It’s not easy to get an interview, though… Oftentimes those most important internetfolk are too awed by the glory of Clunkline or too resentful that soon they’ll be paying top dollar to advertise on our site in hopes of gleaning a few hits from this internet dynamo. However, every once in a while someone’s willing to swallow their pride and offer us a bit of time.
Ladies, gentlemen, and members of Tardigrade species for whom gender has no meaning… I welcome you to the twilight of humanity. For centuries, these worthless fools have debated the numbers of angels dancing on the heads of pins, while they should have been counting the numbers of us who were on those pins, killing those angels.
I returned Peter’s stash to its rightful (though dare I say unlawful!) place, and soon enough Peter returned in a similarly criminal manner. I could see in his bloodshot eyes that awful gleam of knowing. Like any good spy, I had returned his rifled-through things to their original places, carefully restacking the most casual of stacks, etc, and though any layman would have been none the wiser, something in those flat eyes knew that I knew that he was a fiend, both horticulturally and demonologically.
We meet our heroes, Lord Sir Joseph St. John MacJasper KGC, Captain RN of the HMS Unbelieveblydifficulttosinknoreally ( we don’t see the name till the boat pulls out later, it is written in a wide arc above the aft windows), and Midshipman Louis C. B. Smith Jonesington as they enter the aforementioned ship via a gang plank flanked by Marines.
This summer I am working for a party and tent rental company. I usually get assigned to tasks in the warehouse, but occasionally I’m sent out to drop off or pick up rental equipment. I seem to come across a more diverse range of smelly things and places while out on the road, but the warehouse has its fair share of odors as well.
The evils of the metric system have, for too long, infected our currency system. How can a nation built upon archaic and arbitrary measuring systems allow its financial system to be neatly divided by factors of ten? Our rich history has dozens of arbitrary units we could use instead, but we’ve never had a way to bridge the complex English system of measurement with our base-10 currency system.
I hate Dave & Busters. I’ve hated them for a long time. It has nothing to do with their staggeringly overpriced french fries, their usurious activation fees for their cards, or that dumb way that they connect all their fans together with gears and belts. No, it runs much deeper.
A different perspective on events eight years old.
Following pressure from President Bin Laden, the Senate voted unanimously to invade North America, a fascist nation thought to be harboring terrorists from the fundamentalist Christian terrorist group Project for a New American Century.
Known for their megalomaniacal aims, gross nationalism, and no qualms about using force, the Project for a New American Century is the United States of the Middle East Except For Israel’s greatest foe: an axis of evil unilaterally disseminating their fundamentalist propaganda, and sending thousands of well-armed terrorists surging into USMEEFI territories.
Whereupon I departed from Ipswitch with twenty-five souls, eight heavy guns, munitions, supplies, pack-animals, and the Queen’s blessing to map the great interior of our new Cape Colony, I, Sir Ramash Cornwall, began this log of my expedition for publication upon my return.
