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. Come closer, Donkey, and I'll show you how to use your instrument. Don't say we didn't warn you.

Allow me to be honest for a brief moment. Yesterday's topic was completely irrelevant. I hadn't anticipated anyone bothering to humor me by adhering to such a bizarre, non-applicable piece of rubbish. As a matter of fact, I was looking forward to receiving numerous letters which would tell me to shove it up my ass, in so many words, and then proceed to focus upon whatever was on the writer's mind. I think you all know how much I enjoy letters which are ill-natured and insulting, and I'm always glad to try out new and creative ways to encourage the writing of such bitter epistles. However, there's more to it than just that.

Before I get to that, allow me to say that I have never regretted becoming the host of this column for a single moment. Slamming out one column after another on a nearly daily basis for the past few months has helped to improve my writing skills, in addition to vastly building upon my pathetic amalgam of vernacular and terminology that I refer to as a vocabulary. Of course, I've also learned valuable aspects of the fine art of humor. For example, people never tire of allusions to 80's pop culture, and flippantly dismissing the opinions and beliefs of others is always good for a chuckle. This is especially nice for me, since I already have a certain air of levity about me that others find insulting, anyhow.

However, despite all of this, I'll be perfectly candid when I tell you that this can get a bit, well, boring after a while if I don't do certain things to keep it interesting for myself. Now, before you get all indignant and return to auctioning off fictional hookers on eBay, keep in mind that by spicing things up for myself, it also keeps the column fresh for you. So, everybody benefits. And that's exactly what it was that I was doing the other night when I spat such an inane topic out upon you.

Now, I'm an easily frightened person. That's why I have to wear a pair of adult diapers whenever I play peek-a-boo with young children. So imagine my shock when I discovered that some people had actually sent in their thoughts on the matter. In my dismay, I grabbed the phone and dialed the local police to save myself from the cardiac arrest that I was sure would strike at any second. Unfortunately, they're still a bit upset with me for calling in to report my mojo stolen several times a day for the past few weeks, so I was promptly hung up on. Luckily, I was able to calm myself down so that I could be alive to write today's column. I hope you appreciate it.

Hey, you're absolutely right. And, as I recall, the Progressive Era also involved some people. And they did stuff. And then those guys, you know who I'm talking about, tried to get away with that big thing, but the cops found out, and then everybody knew about it. An off-duty officer allegedly spotted a Jeep Wrangler, driven by pop singer Sean "Puffy" Combs, speed away from the crime scene shortly after the shootings occurred. When pulled over, a gun was found concealed beneath the ass of front seat passenger Jennifer Lopez, where the two other suspects, a couple of goobers that nobody really gives half a crap about and as such will go unnamed, for their own protection, stated that they felt "no one would ever find it." "Puffy" Combs' personal attorneys state that he and his associates are victims of circumstance, and were merely trying to cap a few people's asses, when it was unfortunate that the police had to arrive to ruin all of the fun.

Okay, so I really have no right to insult your response, Mikey, as I have little knowledge of the Progressive Era myself. I just like a good excuse to go off on a disconcertingly eccentric tangent.

P.S. Don't worry, I think that the majority of my readership falls into either the "wasted" or the "tired" category, and many fall into both. Considering my unique brand of humor, I have a tendency to attract those types.

Well, I'm certainly thankful for the Progressive Era and the organizations that arose because of it, I'll tell you that much. Without the NAACP, who would there be to take on the monumental task of becoming genuinely offended by beer billboards and children's television programs? And who would stand on behalf of the little people the nation over to look the looming monstrosity that is oppression straight into the eye and say, "the character of Jar Jar Binks is obviously an ethnic slur"? Anyone who would deny the importance of the Progressive Era is obviously an intolerant fool, and deserves to be brutally beaten about the head.

Okay, time to move on before my mockery of a respected institution becomes even more blatant. To address your gaming inquiry, I don't see why it would be a copyright violation, and yes, it is stupid. However, I have to admit that this is one of the more intelligent and enlightening letters I've received in quite some time. And what does that mean? Well, normally it would mean that I would refuse to print it, as it makes it apparent that you are more intellectual than myself, totally ruining my pious self-image. But since it actually deals with the idiotic topic for discussion I prompted you readers with last night, I'll be genial this one time. And what the hell, I'll even throw in a Smartass Award to top it all off.

Remember, someday you will leap headlong from this mortal coil, and within a matter of years you will all but be forgotten. Life, and everything about it that you loved, will continue on without you; your existence is as insubstantial to the grand scheme of things as a single wave amidst a raging ocean. You make me sick. Oh, and try not to drop the Smartass Award in water, okay?

I'm sure that you've really angered all of the big Progressive Era fans out there by saying such, Valinoru. You'd better watch out. Oh, and for my female readers (both of you), I should add that I completely, entirely disagree with the whole "women's vote meant jack" thing in this letter. So don't send me any hateful letters. At least, not in regards to that.

Okay, I think that there's one particular thing which we can all agree on, no matter which videogame console each of us may happen to be partial to. Even if you don't happen to care for the Nintendo 64, or even Nintendo on the whole, for that matter, you have to respect a system which would inspire a gaming site that would later go on to print what has become the most infamous letter in the history of columns. Eyetat Boy, wherever you are, us gamers will just make out that check for a sensual massage, because the gaming community owes you big time, my friend.

Your humor truly immolates me in the hellish blazes of laughter, Yud. Why, this pun was so amazingly witty that I found myself committing petty thefts and vandalism all over the city, as I had lost control of my body and could only watch myself in guilty glee as I defecated into every bird bath and animal shaped mailbox I came across. Have you considered putting yourself to the test during amateur night at the local comedy club?

It was a lonely crack addict named Lucy, who started her own amateur pornography site in order to support her enslaving habit. Either that or it was a time period in which basic human rights were extended to encompass a broader range of citizenry, as described by the letters above. I'll let you pick whichever answer suits you best.

I would try to butter up a few people on your list, Ian. How can you expect to get all of the gifts that you were hoping for when you didn't even grease the Holiday wheels with a few presents of your own? Remember, although you may feign friendship with these people and secretly wish every crippling disease imaginable upon them, you've got to give in order to receive.

Then again, your friendship with them may actually be genuine; in which case, you're a pretty big heel not to get them some crap. And just for the record, being called a heel by a jackass such as myself is pretty bad.

You know, there's really that I can add to further humiliate this poor soul. Okay, so there are quite a few choice words that I could throw in right about here, but I'll refrain, because even I can respect what a crappy lot of Holiday booty that is. And, as sadistic as it may sound, I'm sure that everyone will get a good laugh out of this fellow's situation. Hey, everybody's a sadist to some extent; some people will just deny it more adamantly than others.

P.S. That funk is what we call the "old person smell." All older cars have it, and it just happens to be particularly pronounced in my choice of transportation. Judging by the condition my car was in when I purchased it, the older woman who had owned it prior to myself had apparently dropped dead inside of the damned thing.

Okay, Oddbrain. Now you pretend as though I'm giving you a dignified response.

Stirring up debate is what I happen to do best, and it has always kept things interesting around here, and it's kept both myself and you readers on our toes. However, whenever you welcome debate with open arms as I do, it's inevitable that you anger some people in the process. And I've been flamed for quite a few things during my time as the Double Agent. Some flamers chose to stick with the more familiar forms of flaming, such as questioning my sexual standing, or insulting my mother. Others have opted to go with the more incoherent route, stringing together a multitude of poorly-spelled obscenities and the occasional conjunction to form an entirely noncohesive piece of bosh.

But every once in a while, I get a flame that is just so off-the-wall, so unique, that it deserves to be placed into the Flamers' Corner. Some of these letters include accusations against my character that adhere to no particular form of the logic, and make me honestly wonder about the writer. (For the record, no, I do not eat French babies, and just because I found the Araknogear to be an amusing contraption does not mean that I'd like to see all elderly people put to sleep.) But this letter, well... I can honestly say that this is the most unusual thing that I have ever been Flamed for.

Congratulations, AJ, you're the latest inductee into the exclusive Flamers' Corner. But that's not all! Just because I was feeling rather ambitious today, I've whipped up a corresponding award that can be printed out in commemoration of this momentous occasion. I call it the Dick Award, in homage to the fine comedian whose visage appears on it. With it, all with whom you associate will know, without fail, that you are a flamer. Enjoy it, AJ -- you deserve it!

Remember, the Dick Award will promise your first of kin to a strange little man capable of weaving gold from straw in return for lending his talents to you when you would otherwise be thrown in to jail for the lies you have told. However, I wouldn't sweat it -- you'll just end up kicking his ass when he finally comes calling. Of course, the moral of this story being that you can screw over strange little men and get away with it, even when they live up to their end of the bargain.

Closing Comments:

Okay, so this topic is fairly simple, really: What, in your opinion, were the five best games of 1999? That's it. I do ask that you attempt to explain just why it is that you enjoyed the games that you list, however. But if you'd rather just tell me to go to hell and then list a bunch of games that pretty much everybody agrees sucked in an attempt to be humorous, you can do that as well.

-Drew Cosner