Waiting for the inevitable “caw” set composed entirely of crow cards. STORM CROW 4 LYFE.

To the total exclusion of any non-Magic the Gathering readers I have (virtually all of you), I’m gonna show my excitement for the freshly spoiled Magic Origins set by running through some errant thoughts. It’s a brilliant replacement for a core set and offers a great retrospective on some of the past years’ recent blocks while flashing forward to Battle for Zendikar. My views don’t accurately reflect those of whom you’d actually want to listen to. I’m a casual tabletop Timmy/Spike. I like big splashy effects and brutal efficiency. I mainly play EDH with variant casual 60 card formats thrown in for good measure. With so much stuff crammed in here, I doubt I’ll even get past the mythics:

With good reason too, they’ve knocked the mythics out of the park. The flip walkers all seem pretty ok (with Jace probably being the weakest, but easiest to flip) this time around. Chandra is getting shat on pretty heavily, but she augments your plan to do damage. I guess the question is if you can reliably get her to do 4+ damage. She’s a slow burner (no pun intended) but if you flip her she’s basically ticking down a clock for your opponent. Seems good times. Nissa looks quite flippable in EDH, especially now that Sword of the Animist has been spoiled. Speaking of which, isn’t that card just the tits? It’s a colourless source of mana ramp that’s potentially abusable. On creatures that muster multiple attacks per turn? Yeesh, the card’s a beating and brings out your big guns all too soon.

Erebos’s Titan punishes control something fierce. If you’re rocking a devotion shell you’re hardly gonna go wrong with a 4cc 5/5 (potentially indestructible if you’re packing enough removal (it dodges Languish too, as if it didn’t do enough already. You’re mono black, if you’re lacking removal you’re doing it wrong). The fact that he comes back is gravy on an already tasty piece of meat.

Demonic Pact is… pact with flavour? No way that one wasn’t intentional. Fun design. Once again it bites that you have to wait a turn, but if you manage to get the 3 positive effects off then you’ll be mega happy to have paid 2GG for 4 damage, 4 life, 2 cards and your opponent discarding 2. Pack a bounce spell, kill your enchantment, good ol’ sacrifice a permanent. Are there ways to flicker enchantments? Also obviously you can find a way to gift it to your opponent. It’s like handing them a stick of ACME dynamite. Good friends share, right?

Archangel of Tithes is seriously well costed. At 5 toughness it also dodges Languish while making it difficult for your opponents to stem the inevitable white weenie assault coming their way (how many Savannah Lions are there in standard right now alone? Not to mention all the renown dorks in this set). It’s a good time.

White’s other mythic, Starfield of Nyx brings the beat back. Aside from the fact that it takes a turn to really kick in (unless you have 5 enchantments on the board), it’s got the chance to send constellation decks up to the stratosphere. Bringing back Doomwake Giants or Eidolon of Blossoms is genuinely mean and translates to some mouth watering card advantage. Did I mention that when it’s active, said Doomwake Giants and Eidolon of Blossoms will be 5/5 and 4/4 respectively? Courser of Kruphix as a 4/4 for 1GG? Starfield of Nyx can function as a decent anthem effect. More expensive than Opalescence, but with so much upside. Love this card.

I feel like enough has been said about Avaricious Dragon, it’s huge/huge and gives you lots of gas, but Thunderbreak Regent is probably still better at the cost and unless Goblin Piledriver isn’t the messiah RDW players have been praying for, I think it costs way too much. Your opponents should be basically dead by the end of turn 4 already.

Pyromancer’s Goggles (red’s other mythic, in case you missed it like I did) costs a bunch at 5, but could potentially be one of the best casual sources of repeatable spell copying. It’s going straight into my Wort the Raidmother EDH, that’s for certainly. FOR CERTAINLY. Big burn keeps burning, dumb splashy effects get dumber. It’s strictly casual, but we knew that, right?

Woodland Bellower makes me super happy as a lifelong green mage. It silver bullets like a champ. Graveyard recursion? Eternal Witness. Killing troublesome permanents? Reclamation Sage. Finding other big dudes? Wirewood Herald. Want to soulbond up your red pingers? Soulbond Peddler is there. Need specific Elf lords? Any number of great 187 effects? Antler bear does it all. Also he can stick around to hit hard (unless god forbid you find some way to bounce/flicker him in (Conjurer’s Closet? Cloudstone Curio? Temur Sabertooth?). I want all of these, so no player can enjoy Magic the Gathering as much as I am. I also want one of these as a pet/best friend in real life. It’s equally fluffy and terrifying, like all the best pets.

The Great Aurora is a green sweeper. It feels like it has so much potential to be broken beyond just spamming tokens à la Warp World shenanigans, but I’ve yet to find out how. I wanted to try putting it in a shell with Oblivion Stone style effects, but the timing doesn’t quite work out. Banisher Priest seems like the right idea, but it can only hit your opponents’ stuff. Less fun. I want to find some way to flash out a bunch of landfall stuff that also gets pumped by the lands coming into play. There has to be a way. More on this at a later date, when someone else inevitably cracks it with Living Lore or something.

Disciple of the Ring is kind of junk. Those effects seem cool, until you realise that it takes too long to get going and you’re fighting with delve for design space. If you can get it online I’m sure it can do wonderful things, but it’s gonna be hard to keep enough gas in the tank to control the board. Bulk mythic/EDH fodder. If you’re packing mono blue Azami you’re probably chuffed.

Day’s Undoing is beyond my reckoning. I don’t think anyone is sure what to make of it right now. It’d be nifty to see someone find a way around its limitations, or skirt negative end of turn effects, but I don’t know how to break it. It’s tough that your opponent gets their cards before you and I don’t know if the card is enough to justify playing Quicken or Leyline of Anticipation. Should be fun to see.

Alhammarret’s Archive will keep silly EDH decks doing what they do already, just more. It’s a big dumb card that’ll be big dumb fun. Also Oloro just got even more unfun. There was much rejoicing.

That’s just the mythics. It only gets dumber from there on out. It’s been a while since a standalone set really shook up the game so much, but I feel like the effects of Magic Origins are gonna be felt throughout a heap of formats. Good job, Wizards, this is the kind of magic we want.

“Just” and “fair” aren’t always equivalent.

My girlfriend recently showed me this article. If you’re at all interested in the following ramblings, I suggest you read it. It’s more eloquent than I have any hope of being.

I want to talk about this idea, but I’m also hyper aware of the possibility that I’ll mansplain it all to fuckery. So let’s shift the focus and talk about me “for a change”. As a card carrying beta male (legit, in my ID photo I’m not even staring straight into the camera. Them’s the rules) I have a hard time asserting myself like a chest beating dominant alpha. It’s not that I lack faith in my abilities, but it likely stems from a deficiency of confidence in my ability to present in a way commensurate with powerful people. I know I’m no blind passenger, but I’m not excited by the prospect of grabbing the reins for myself. Everybody wants to rule the world, except for those of us who don’t.

One of the ways this lack of assertiveness transpires is through language. Have you read any of my writing before? I mean really read it? Nigh on every sentence has a sneaky little modifier or two dropped in there. They’re surreptitious, but when they amass together they form a larger meaning, as the mortar sticking my words together. I never have a strong opinion. Everything is filtered through a weasel word. Everything’s “kind of” stated or “slightly” hesitant. It’s “really” “pretty much” “just” “sorta” “a little” weak. Like I have no faith in my own thoughts, like my words need a constant disclaimer lest someone come back later to challenge me. Well I guess I did say that, but you’re right. My writing is naught but sticks, waiting for some big bad alpha wolf to come and blow it down. I’ve talked with my girlfriend before about it and she’s asked me why I haven’t consciously tried to change it. Well that’s just how I talk I say. My words wouldn’t feel like me if they didn’t sound like I do. It rings true.

When I talk, I cushion what I say. If I’m making a request at work, I’ll couch my demands. Would you mind doing this or I just thought this or that, I’m wondering if you could something else they were meant to have finished hours prior. I apologise constantly, often before I’ve even started a sentence, as if imposing on others was a crime and I wasn’t worth their time. Out in public I’ll almost bump into someone and say sorry. Instead of softly and non-aggressively saying “hey” if I need to ask someone something, it’ll be sorry to bother you or excuse me. I know I’m asking a favour, but does that mean I need to prostate myself before them as a doormat? I’m sure it hasn’t gone far towards garnering respect or admiration from others and it’s very possible to be friendly without mitigating your desires or status.

Here’s the thing. I’m still a guy. I’m still a white guy who comes from a privileged middle class upbringing. I’ve been very fortunate to experience life from a filtered perspective from which I don’t go into the world assuming it’s actively trying to hurt or negate me. I’m not a giant, but I don’t look like a pushover either. When I’m interacting with people, I bring these views with me to the conversation. They can see these things too and it affects how I’m perceived. Even if I’m apologising, making myself less of a threat, seconding my own opinion as a way of permitting them to crush it, I’ve still got huge amounts of cultural cache backing me up. Being a guy, this kind of behaviour coupled with a friendly mentality can often even work in my favour. Politeness as a variation from the norm is sometimes seen as a virtue and aids the achievement of my vector.

If I was a woman, would I hold the same privileges? In 99.9 (ad infinitum) percent of cases, no. Apologising or minimizing your requests lowers their status. When you’re living within a society that actively wants to reinforce regressive and outdated gender roles, anything that weakens you is seen as feminine. It’s beyond absurd (and that’s a whooole different discussion), but these little modifiers subtly imply to others that their opinion is more important, because this is “just” what you think. I don’t want to speak for women because as many stories as I hear about the bullshit they endure on a daily basis, I’ve never fully been able to see the world without the male bias I’ve been afforded. It’s been that pervasive in my life. I’d like to support as much as I can, even if that’s often limited to raising awareness and shutting the fuck up while someone who’s been slighted can have a chance to speak up. Much as I want to help, the benefits this society has afforded me simply because of what hangs between my legs serves as an imposition between the culture I’d like to foster and my right to talk on it. Language has power and as it’s currently set up it only bolsters the dominant gender hegemony. To defer or apologise is what a woman does, because frankly it’s embarrassing that she’s even speaking while the males are talking. Vomit. Can we progress as a species? We consider ourselves evolved, right? Then why are we stuck in such archaic thought patterns?

It’s 2015 everyone. Can we act like it?

Brufax sounds like a street gang. Or a druid NPC in any fantasy RPG. Will it give me powers?

Because cutting alcohol wasn’t a challenge last month, I’ve extended my consumption ban into the realm of processed sugar. It’s all under the guise of aiding Tough Mudder training, but really it’s because sugar’s the hardest drug for me to kick. When you’re sitting at a desk for many hours a day, it can be nigh impossible to curb the allure of a little sugary escapism. It sounds idiotic, but it’s making me grumpy, irritable and taking its toll on my psyche. I figure if I switch to fruit and natural sugars for a month, I can see if the cravings abate. Or I’ll become a joyless “food is fuel” zombie, consuming only for the vital nutrients I can intake. All soylent all the time. I’ll try switching to brew coffee – flavoured with trace amounts of honey or maple – in lieu of my daily mocha. No more protein bars after workouts. It’ll be a piece of fruit and a small handful of nuts. I’ve recently taken to cottage cheese again after remembering that it exists. Perhaps I can get a chunky IV drip sorted and pump out straight to my protein seeking veins. TASTE THE HEALTH! I was reminded lately that nutritional yeast is a thing, which I knew through my childhood as “brufax”. It’s laden with protein, used as a cheese substitute by vegans and it’s actually really tasty. Perhaps I’ll cut out the middleman and sprinkle it into my coffee. WHY DOES MY BODY HAVE INSUFFICIENT ROOM FOR ALL THESE NUTRIENTS?

I dunno, dumb internalised issues mean I never feel as healthy, trim or toned as I’d like. It’s a process, but I’m still looking in the mirror and seeing all those bits that put me off rather than congratulating myself on my own successes. It’s a recipe for nothing but self-loathing, but the shifting it is the epitome of easier said than done. It’s especially moronic because I know I’m gonna look back in 10 years and think man, I used to look great and spent so long shitting on myself. Hindsight is an asshole though. I’ve been on a good track in therapy lately with someone whose methodology fits my needs, so I’m hoping to be able to salvage a smidgeon of self-love/respect and dump the resulting stat points into charisma. I’ve got high hopes.

Seriously though, in every other way my life is going so well that my problems subsist of curbing my sugar intake. In the scope of humanity, I am the 1%. I’ve gotta recognise this and appreciate how lucky I am, faced with a world of people who have a hard time walking the street for any multitude of reasons. Some people have trouble losing teeth to meth and I’m here worried about losing weight when there’s so much sugar in the world. Maybe the answer is to just get hooked on meth. I feel like junkies in films are always named “Slim” for a reason. Meth head chic? Or maybe just harden my resolve and grow some discipline? Like fruit, I hear it’s better for you when it’s organic.

Costs more too. Therapy ain’t cheap. I’ve never taken meth, is it more expensive than therapy?

The “Flying =W=” is still one of the most offensive hand gestures I know.

This morning I awoke with the Weezer track The Good Life stuck in my head. Following my instincts (and intense urge to pluck the earworm from out mine brain) I loaded up Pinkerton and listened away. I thought of Weezer, a band who’ve changed so much over the years and tried to piece together what I really felt of them. It’s interesting, because the variance between their older and newer material is so divisive. New fans and old fans are starkly different, the sound is different. It’s not merely the matter of a band failing to evolve, it’s just that their sound has so starkly changed from what their earlier fans sought from them. They shifted from a quirky little indie outfit to selling out stadiums and the shiny veneer they’ve kitted themselves with reflects that aptly.

I’m not here just to shit on a band (who could adequately defend themselves with the Scrooge McDuck-esque vault they keep their excessive wads of cash), because there have been small lights in the darkness. While their sound has vastly shifted, there are a couple of tracks even late in the game that latch on to something special. Straight up we can just agree to pretend that Make Believe never happened. We Are All On Drugs and Beverly Hills were so repugnant and banal that the Insane Clown Posse/Jack White collaboration seems almost cute in comparison. Almost.

They didn’t end things there though. OH NO THEY DI’N’T. Next up was their third self-titled album, affectionately known as the Cowboy Hat Album by casual fans. A few fun little ditties came out of that one, almost considered a return to form. It brought home that fact that they’re not excellent musicians, Rivers is certainly not an artful lyricist (I think his only stipulation for any lyrics is that they must rhyme. The actual content is irrelevant), but they can make grinworthy tracks. Most of the album is pretty listenable. Not amazing by any means, but not actively awful either. A few tracks do stick out above others though:

The Greatest Man That Ever Lived. It’s a rollicking romp through a buffet of musical styles. Far more experimental than anything they’ve done and it was a risk that paid off. Glibly cocksure, but an excellent time.

Pork and Beans. Neat peppy track, nice take on a bunch of viral videos. Dumb song, but fun song.

Troublemaker. Not a phenomenal song by any metric. Ignore the lyrics, but enjoy yourself. It’s ok, nobody’s judging you.

Raditude was a STOOOOOPID album. Dumb dumb dumb. I’m Your Daddy is so paint by numbers that you’ll lose IQ points by listening, but in lieu of any nutritional value, this album has literally two standout junk food style pop tracks.

(If you’re Wondering if I want you to) I Want You To (feat Sarah Bareilles). An acoustic take on a straight up stonking summer song. It’s almost cynical how intent the band is on evoking a time and place in their lives they probably barely remember, but I still play this one every once in a while. Once again symptomatic of Rivers writing lyrics that rhyme in lieu of any deeper relevance (The rest of the summer was the best we’ve ever had//We watched titanic and it didn’t make us sad), but Golly Gee Wilikers it’s still listenable.

The Girl Got Hot. Do not expect anything from this track and you’ll do just fine. I think we all stopped expecting anything out of Weezer a while back, so that shouldn’t be an issue.

If there’s a band who’ve sold out, Weezer take the cake and eat it too. Album/clothing line collaborations with Hurley, performing to celebrate the release of new Samsung smartphones. I think someone even offered them $10,000,000 to split up a few years back. They’re laughing all the way to the bank, but surely they can’t do that without dropping one or two enjoyable tracks along the way. Maybe I need to dive into that haystack in search of a few sharp needles.

Eat your heart out, Lou Reed. Wait, would that make him a zombie?

I know what I’m writing about tonight and I can’t decide what the leading reason is. There are two reasons that stick out in my head. 1) Because it’s something that’s important to me, I love celebrating successes and successful celebration. I think it’s important to commit this stuff to memory and have something to look back on. I’m also evidently big on cramming multiple things under one reason. 2) I’m fundamentally lazy, so I won’t have to think about it. Both of these reasons are important, but I have no earthly idea which is taking precedence.

I wanna talk about yesterday, my one year anniversary with my girlfriend. It’s notable because we made it this far, it seemed only to deepen our connection and it might have qualified as a perfect day.

As always, I’m far worse at sleeping than she is, so I awoke and rose to get a head start on the festivities. I made a simple honey/soy/garlic marinade for the pork loin and let it refrigerate for an hour before loading it into the slow cooker with a bunch of veggies. I wrote, so as to leave the day free from further responsibility and got stuck into Marvel Heroes 2015 for a few hours. A nice idyllic morning doing Leon stuff on my own, while she gently slumbered behind me.

She couldn’t sleep forever (well, she probably could), so she roused to consciousness around 1pm. While she absconded to the bathroom, I got her gift ready. Unbeknownst to her, I’d prepared. I’d been pretty secretive, talking to a bunch of friends and plotting in secret. I thought I’d figured out a neat idea, skewing sentimental without getting cheesy. Then again, that was for her to decide, not me.

She came out of the bathroom to see my lying in bed with a beautifully wrapped gift in front of me (I actually piked on the wrapping, paying some gift store people to do it for me. My wrapping skills are legendarily bad). She slowly made her way through the multitude of ribbons and tore it open. A plain black base. This told her nothing. She flipped it over to see a silver picture frame segmented into seven openings. In one was a short poem I’d written. She grinned, hugged me and said thank you, that it was one of the sweetest things anyone had gotten her. “The photos are all stock images, right?” she asked. I smiled and shook my head, not wanting to tip her off too much. “But they’re all black and white…” her voice trailed off, eyes widened. She turned to me, eyes welling up. I think I did good.

In each frame was a photo of the place where we had one of our firsts: The place we’d shared our first kiss. Where we first had sex. The restaurant where we first used the word “relationship”. Where we first said the words “I love you”. The cafe where we first talked about what a future together might look like. Five big firsts, for our first year together.

We cuddled, which moved on to great sex, buoyed by the rush of closeness and intimacy. Love only makes these things better, and I’d be almost surprised if our amorous feelings weren’t forming a visible, tangible aura.

By the time we moved out to get lunch, it was almost 4pm. Eschewing fancy clothes for yoga/track pants and comfy sweaters, we went for maximum coziness. We found a small, cosy sushi place and ordered a bunch of tasty rolls. That morning I’d thought back to an excellent list of questions I’d always considered going through with a partner. I brought it up and we jumped right in. Phenomenal questions, they fostered discussion and an even deeper understanding of each other’s values than we’d thought possible. I don’t know how it says it takes 45 minutes, we went for almost 2.5 hours and didn’t even finish the list. The questions were complex, layered and required thought. Her answers were on point, reaffirming just how much I lucked out in meeting her. She’s a special sort, which I knew, but didn’t know to quite that extent. It was hard to tear our eyes away from each other. To any bystanders we were probably just that gross mushy couple with the constantly misty eyes. Fuck ’em, we earned it.

Coming back home with tummies full of sushi, we slovenly fell upon the Lego I’d bought at a garage sale a few weeks prior. Creating space craft and alien pets, we worked out a brief narrative to attach to them. Next up, we had to fortify the bed with pillows to make a low level couch fort. We pulled the pork out of the slow cooker and served up dinner. After having crafted purpose built lounging stations on the bed, we settled down for dinner while watching one of my all time desert island top 5 movies: High Fidelity.

Best day. Love this woman. We do the good thing and we do it well.

It was either this or a boom box outside your window, but it’s a bit cold outside today.

Does it seem peculiar to be writing an open letter to the woman sleeping behind me? Well we’ve always been left of normal, so contextually it’s not all that strange.

I can still clearly remember this day, one year ago. I’ve mentioned before how little that day seemed real to me. I was nursing a particularly difficult break up and just kind of drifting like a wayward spirit. I felt unsettled going out and definitely not ready to meet someone. Spoiler, I did. As if plucked from the ink of the most intricate writer (with a taste for the MPDG trope), you appeared. I was lost in the fog, you walked straight up to me and lifted me beyond the clouds. We started to date almost immediately and the fantasy façade began to fall away. You were real, you were here and you were someone I didn’t realise I’d been missing.

Of course it’s easy for me to say that in hindsight with the rose tinted glasses of amorous entwine. At the time I still had no idea what I wanted. So we danced small steps, ever drawing closer together. It was weird at first, I didn’t know what you wanted and I wasn’t ready for much in the way of commitment. We rolled with it. Adopting a more casual, free-form rhythm we found ourselves together, but in no way shackled. It was liberating and only sought to strengthen my ardour. We found each other, stretched and tested one another to see just how snugly we fit.

Then I met someone else and things got confusing. I felt buffeted and beaten down but you stayed, you held me fast and coached me through it. Your selflessness and openness throughout the ordeal gave a sudden direct clarity to my choice. My last vestiges of resistance faded and I plunged deep into everything we did together. I still have yet to surface for air.

Unlike anyone I’ve met, you’ve made me feel like I am who I’m meant to be. We communicate in ways I’ve never experienced. If anything contentious comes up, we talk it out. Issues haven’t risen, because together we’ve faced them and broken them down until they were easy enough to step over. You’ve given me stability and faith in myself to be better, to ask for help and take it. Being with you has made me better than I was and I hope I’ve given you even half of what you’ve given me.

Ok, did that sound stoic enough? Here goes.

I fucking love you, Lioness. You brighten up my days no matter how grumpy and sleep deprived I am. I’ve faced few challenges so overwhelming as keeping a sour demeanour in your presence, and you do it so effortlessly just by being who you are. You make me feel like we’re little kids who’re figuring out how to do this “adult thing” our way and that’s what I’ve wanted all along. We know how to play and we do. We never stop and I don’t ever want to. Around you I’m safe, warm, excited and hopeful. Other things exist in my life, but none of them feel remotely as special and rewarding as being with you. I might just be getting old and decrepit, but nobody else has honestly made me feel like a future together had grounds in reality. The kids, the house, the big fluffy dog. We’ve talked about it and know that it might be runaway sentiment, but there’s something special about it, like a dream that lingers long after you wake. You’re a gorgeous person inside and out and a lifetime getting lost in your eyes would be well spent.

But for now I’ll settle for a day of great food, better sex, Lego and movies in a couch fort. Happy first anniversary.

You can’t hide your lion eyes.

Happy Pride everyone.

I’m here today to talk about a subject that’s both relevant and dearly close to my heart: Lions. They’re one of the first things I tend to think of when I think of “pride”, because of the impeccably named Lion King 2: Simba’s Pride. Lions are majestic creatures who join butterflies, kingfishers and prawns through representation within a constitutional monarchy. That’s something to be proud of indeed. I don’t know about the other species I mentioned, but I like that lions pass down sovereignty through birth. Primarily because, like bears, baby lions are called cubs. I like to think of lions as the feline versions of bears, which makes me happy. Male lions have manes, which I tend to think make them look regal. Some humans try to ape this admirable style, but fail in comparison. I tend to think jocular male lions would refer to each other as their “mane man”, which makes them sound quite chummy.

Lions are pretty badass. I’m named after one (presumably who was named Leon), which fills me with no end of pride. I’d like to think I could beat a gazelle in a fight, which comes with the territory. Realistically though, unless I had tools I’d be woefully ill equipped to deal any real damage. Plus I’d never chase one down. Do you know fast those bastards run? I don’t, but Wikipedia says they can reach speeds of up to 97mph. I can run maybe 15mph for short bursts. No dinner for me. A lion on the other hand would pounce, latch on and tear that bastard asunder. Then you’ve got yourself a sweet feast, rending flesh from their bones and devouring it voraciously. That’s my idea of a party. Lions, you know what I like. Then again, lions often scavenge and pick up things left behind by others. Oh well, carrion my wayward sons.

So far I’ve covered virtually all my knowledge of lions. There is a lot I have yet to learn. The internet exists (hence your ability to read this sentence), which means knowledge is within my grasp. All I lack is the integrity to pursue that desire. I don’t know what lions do for fun. Seriously, do they wrestle? Braid each other’s manes? Participate in Game of Thrones style political maneuvering? I’m sure David Attenborough knows. What do lions think of relationships between genders? Given that they’re animals who operate upon instinct, do they just fuck to reproduce? Watching this video briefly (I’ve been watching porn for years, I’ve learned to skip the flimsy preamble and zone in on the best bits) it seems like a pretty unenthusiastic affair for all concerned. Then an awkward post coital period where the male lion isn’t sure how to express his apathy. I assume he asked her “was that as good for you as it was for me?” and her agreement didn’t mean it was anything special, merely providing solidarity in apathy. Well you know what, lions? If you spent more time thinking about each other and less time navigating your political landscape, you might just find a few ways to enjoy that special kind of wrestling a smidgeon more.

Wait, don’t lions spend most of their days sleeping? Maybe try sleeping with each other for a change. Geez.