Let's take a few minutes to talk about the most horrible thing that's happened to anyone ever. Like, ever-ever. A snail bit my uncle's wiener off, and even that wasn't as horrible as the worst thing that's ever happened to me. But before I further hyperbolize an event more or less meaningless in the grand scheme of life, let's take it back a little.
Do you remember E3 growing up? I do. I'm 30, and back in the days before the internet we had to go to the Barnes & Noble's with our step dads and camp in the magazine section while Terry read Guns, Germs, and Steel chapter-by-chapter because he was too cheap to buy the damned thing for $17.99 (like, seriously Terry, just skip the Molson's for one weekend and buy the book!). Anyway, while Terry was getting his step dad on, we nerdy, red-headed step children would plop down in front of EGM, GamePro, and, my personal favorite, PSM and ingest all of the wonderful gooeyness drip-fed to us once a month in print publications. Did it suck that you really only got news once every thirty days? Kinda. Did that one day out of thirty fucking rule? You know it.
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