Disclaimer: The opinions expressed within this column are those of the participants and the moderator, and do not neccessarily reflect those of the GIA. There is coarse language and potentially offensive material afoot. This column openly supports necrophilia. Don't say that I didn't warn you.

Today's column is an exciting one, I feel. Perhaps not invigorating and thrilling on the level of clinging to the bumper of a speeding car on the freeway while "surfing" atop a Taco Bell food tray, but exciting nonetheless. In fact, if today's column doesn't send you into frothing fits of laughter, reducing you to a quivering, saliva-coated mess on the floor, I'll go so far as to give you your money back, gauranteed.

I may be completing lacking when it comes to that social thing which many refer to as a "life," but I can honestly say that I have never sat in front of my television screen and repeatedly selected Link in order to hear his name being repeated ad infinum. Does that somehow make me superior to you? Yes.

That, coupled with the fact that I'm the star quarterback for the Varsity football team, and women flock to me whenever I flash my charismatic smile. I'll be certain to twirl up my towel into a rat tail and snap you in the leg with it after gym class tomorrow, just to prove my manly superiority to my other mentally deficient, neanderthal friends.

I'll have to make it quick, however, because I need to get to football practice right after class. Whenever I miss one of the team's scheduled time periods in which we are to mindlessly hurl our bodies at one another and various padded objects, I'm all rusty for the following game.

Actually Grinn, no, you're not. Here are some words from our very own Nich Maragos:

"Alone? Why, you not only have sympathizers and companions in your adoration of the Taciturn One, you have them on the very staff of the GIA! Myself and Andrea Hartmann both find the fair lass to be one of the finest-looking females ever to appear in video games, let alone the Final Fantasy series. I've almost finished screen-capturing every line that Fujin speaks in all of FF8. When this is done, they'll go up along with any fan art of her that people see fit to send me, and will be incorporated into my upcoming Fujin Shrine for all the world to marvel at her beauty. In short, you deserve a commendation for your exquisite and discriminating taste, sir."

Proving once again that no matter how strange and obsessive you may be, this staff is even moreso. We take pleasure in knowing that we make other people feel normal.

Well, my hat is certainly off. So many people had seen fit to send me one letter after another giving me their reasoning as to why Gilgamesh isnt', in fact, THE MAN, and that some other character is, for whatever reasons.

Some people had decent, logical explanations for their viewpoints on the matter. Others didn't even bother to adhere to any of those pesky rules of the English language, stating that a character, whose name they hadn't bother to spell correctly, was THE MAN, and assumed that if they'd typed entirely in capital, it would some how persuade me to agree with them.

However, I had never taken the time to consider just who deserves to be nominated THE TRAIN. I'd be inclined to agree that Doom Train deserves such an honor, seeing as FFVI's Phantom Train, the closest competition, could be dispatched with a single Phoenix Down, making him somewhat of a pansy.

I'm afraid that you have little choice but to spend your remaining days without any human companionship, until you are eventually a withered, lecherous old man with a chip on his shoulder and a hatred for the world around him.

Don't worry, it's not all bad. Once you're elderly, you'll get to tell people exactly what you think of them to their faces, and threaten anyone who steps onto your lawn with their life.

Yes. But that's all I can say right now. If I were to divulge any details, I might accidentally slip and make it apparent that we have done absolutely no work on creating another Larissa and Kelvin adventure. I'd rather give the appearance that we're well along in the writing of another.

I think it's fairly obvious that Sony and Square simply hate us. They find it humorously ironic that we, as consumers, continue to purchase their products despite the fact that on the whole, the all of the many people making up the two companies find us utterly reprehensible and repulsive.

We've become their willing peons; the time to revolt is now! Grab the Playstation, and hurl it against the nearest wall. Put your foot right through that fancy Trinitron. Take that Vaio, and use it to hammer a few nails. Use that copy of Final Fantasy VIII to scratch the boils on your ass. Only by doing so can you truly be free.

Okay, so that's probably not the case. It probably has something to do with meeting release schedules and whatnot, but explanation serves better to fuel your underlying indignation towards major corporations.

As for anteaters, I hate the little sons of bitches. They need to take themselves and their Communist ideaologies back to their red country, where their viewpoints are welcome.

That's actually an interesting idea. Just why do we have such a place in our hearts for RPGs, anyhow? I'll save my opinions on the matter until tomorrow. Until then, feel free to let me know how you feel on the subject.

I like that. Here's my letter to coincide with your reply:

The other day, while I was trying to use my library card to extract currency from the ATM machine, a small creature appeared beside me, and injected my one of my vericose veins with what I believe to be the HIV virus.

Now it's only a matter of time before I eventually catch something such as a common cold, and the complete lack of any immune system to combat it results in my untimely death. I'd rather that not happen before I have a chance to put up a fight, so I've been searching for the insidious beast who would do such a thing to me in my inattentiveness.

After hiring the aid of a private eye, I've come to the conclusion that it was none other than the bastard child of The GIA's very own Fritz Fraundorf and his beloved Chu-Chu. I splashed mud all over the two of them as they held hands on the curb in wait of the bus, and they've had it in for me ever since. What I did was irresponsible and immature, certainly, but I think that the pair has gone to far in sending their own offspring to do me in.

At any rate, be warned Fraundorf: I've got a few good months left, and there's only so many places on this god-forsaken rock that you can escape to.

Closing Comments

I actually like that last letter's proposal. That's a screwed up idea if ever I saw one, and I'm all for screwed up ideas. So, tomorrow will be the first-ever Double Agent Jeopardy column. You send me the replies, and I'll come up with the letters to correspond with them. Which may or may not be written in the form of a question.

So, get crackin'. This will lead to a fun time had by all. Would you be such a self-absorbed, hateful little prick as to deny others that?

-Drew Cosner