It’s going to be the last section in my forthcoming book: 8 Months of Personal Ads

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Adventurer Seeks to Share Fortune AND Glory! Yes, both!
Reply to: pers-225384725@craigslist.org
Date: 2006-10-25, 12:31AM EDT

I need a partner. I don’t mean sidekick, so don’t worry about that. I don’t mind sharing the fortune AND the glory (good luck finding an adventurer who will admit THAT). There are certain requirements, though, that most women just don’t have.

Must have passable skills with the rapier and cudgel.

Must have some experience with a pistol, preferably something small, like a PPK or even a .22. I use something a little bigger, but that’s just what people seem to expect. Also, the smaller calibers fit better in a garter.

Must have above-average bust size with equally expansive hips, in sensual proportion – it’s mostly for the book covers and the press shots.

Must have rudimentary knowledge of eldritch incantations (or at least a few semesters’ worth of the Ancient Language of the Darkest Shadows, for reading the spell books).

Must have some experience in trauma or emergency medicine, and an ability to stitch sword wounds without leaving scars (though I’m willing to negotiate on that one).

Must be AT LEAST a Rank 4 Magistrix. I hear a lot of people have trouble with the Quasiverbal part of the Rank 3 exit exam, but I scored a 4L, and I have no problem helping you out with preparations (it’s not that hard to find an appropriate yew branch, if you know where to look).

Must NOT be squeamish! Sword fights and gun battles against hordes of brain-hungry undead can get kind of messy. And sometimes, you’re GOING TO GET BLOOD ON YOU. It might even be YOUR OWN. Keep that in mind, ladies!

Must know the difference between an Interspatial portal and an Interdimensional portal. They look a lot alike, but they do VERY DIFFERENT THINGS. I don’t want to have to spend another six years in understasis just to figure out which podunk alternate universe you popped yourself into.

Must NOT have a predilection for befriending small, cute creatures. Those things always turn on you in the end, and I’m not in a hurry to repeat the spicemonkey incident (no drycleaner in the four known universes has been able to get those stains out).

Must NOT scream at inopportune moments, or have chronic seasonal allergies. I don’t need some lady sneezing while we’re trying to sneak past another group of incompetent guards. Also, to banish any romantic notions you might have: the guards are NEVER as dumb as you think they will be.

You have to be pretty. I can’t stress that enough. I don’t mean knock-out or anything, but sometimes I’ll need you to charm a drunk prison commandant, or fool a tribe of natives into thinking you’re their goddess. Seriously, you wouldn’t believe how often those two things happen. Some weeks, it’s like that Bill Murray movie with Chris Elliott as the cameraman.

I’m really not that picky. There’s a lot of wiggle room in what might seem like impossible requirements, but I have confidence in the women of Pittsburgh (Earth-C3).

I hear that the Obelisk of Suffering’s current ruler has been dropping hints in the Black Court that he might be interested in eating my heart (for my courage or something stupid like that), so you should probably get with the emailing.

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I’ve never even heard of half of these goddamn people.

Jim Caviezel is not Jesus. He’s a stupid, stupid actor. Actors are mostly idiots. There are a few exceptions, but it’s mostly true. Their bankable skill is that they can pretend.

Oh, I guess the other people I don’t recognize are athletes. Yeah. I’m going to get advice on intellectual subjects from fucking sports stars. They can run fast, or make a ball go into a little hole, or lift heavy things, or punch somebody else in the face really hard, or jump high, or catch things, or maybe hit things with a stick. Great. Experts.

Genetics will save our species. Medical science is poised for a revolution that we haven’t seen since sanitation.

But there’s one stumbling block: a group of ill-informed, incurious believers who think that vacuuming out the interior of a woman’s uterus is an act on par with murdering their next door neighbor.

Life does not begin with conception. If you think it does, you’re wrong.

Let me be clear: you’re wrong.

Your dark age, outdated, misanthropic death cult, with your worship of a man stapled to a piece of wood is holding back progress.

It’s not just Christians, either – it’s all the goddamn religions.

Do you have an invisible friend? One that you talk to, but that never talks back? One that heals you when you’re sick, but miraculously isn’t responsible for making you sick in the first place?

One that has a book written about him? One that has people in white collars who think they know what he wants?

You know Santa Claus? Yeah, that guy. Compare him to the ideas you have about God, and then think about why you stopped believing in Santa. It’s the same goddamn thing, folks.

I’m not saying this because I think I’m smarter. I’ve known many believers who were way smarter than me. I’ve also known my share of atheists who were verifiable morons.

It’s not about intelligence. It’s about faith.

You put your faith in a being you’ve never seen, never heard and never met.

I put my faith in people, and the essential goodness of other human beings. I see that shit every day. You would too, if you would just open your eyes to the world happening around you, and not the one you imagine is waiting for you when you die.

It’s just us. We’re in this alone. We have to rely on each other, and trust each other, and realize that the only ones who are going to save us are each other.

It’s time we grew up, shed these ancient, misbegotten belief systems and get busy trying to save our own goddamn skins.

A human embryo is a glob of cells. It’s a sperm and an egg. It’s not a fucking life, any more than a woman’s period is a life, or a man’s sperm is a life. We can make lots of them. There’s more than enough unwanted eggs and unwanted sperm for us to use.

So let’s fucking use them.

No, it’s not because of your looks, but because you chose that as your primary picture to show the world at large, the photograph that you believe promotes the most basic youness. Boobs smashed up against anything has always been hot. Thanks for ruining it.

Apparently, not enough.

No, I’m not clicking “no” because of the content of your picture. I actually find your confidence refreshing. Frankly, you intimidate me.

While I’m normally very much in favor of human cloning, I think it’s highly narcissistic to clone yourself.

I find myself both repulsed and intrigued.

I am a 5’3 female who loves to just about anything that you can think of I love to read write listen to music and just sit on here and talk to people
I can think of a lot of things, and I’m thinking that maybe you don’t love them. Many of them have the word “fissure.”

You’re actually pretty cute, and that dog is adorable, but I don’t think I like your obvious lack of cropping skills – really, it isn’t that hard.

So, your profile says you’re 28. Yeah. And I’m a Chinese jet pilot.

I’m a polyamorous , gamer , bisexual , transgendered (M2F), Buddhist / Taoist / Pagan , with furry tendencies. I like to write on occasion. I also draw a webcomic.
Besides the obvious, you also look like my junior high football coach in a dress.

Yeah. Right.

I don’t approve of your use of a rockin’, kick-ass font.

I living in Russia. I the good, clever woman. I like to travel, a nature. I like long is on we shall reduce air. Very much like to communicate with people.
I tried reducing air on a date once. It was fun until we got to a nature.

Yeah. You’re a tough one. Everything in me screams “click yes!” except for the little part of me that wonders about the psychology of a person who puts up a picture of their tits and only their tits. Hell, who am I kidding?

I like older men, I think it started when I was 15 and my first boyfriend was 23.
We have a name for that, you know. It starts with a P and ends with an A.

Sometimes, you just have to let the bangs win.

I like to help others, I have a short fuse and am overly-sensitive.
Oh boy, where do I sign up?

So, did somebody punch you in the head just as the webcam clicked the picture, or did you cultivate that look artificially?

Posted By:Your Next President

Get this video and more at MySpace.com

I feel better after posting that blog about boobs. It was cathartic. That was the point, I guess. As Chris wisely observed in his comment, I should probably just let it go and embrace my fetish. Hell, I don’t even like calling it a fetish because it’s so integrated in our genetic makeup, right? I’ll keep telling myself that.

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I’m against gay marriage.

Let me be specific. I’m against the government having any role whatsoever in the definition of marriage. The government should not acknowledge marriage, whether it be between opposite sexes or same sexes.

Call it a Domestic Partnership. All of the laws and benefits that the current definition of marriage entails should be rolled into the domestic partnership law. I mean all of them, from custody rights to inheritances. Eliminate any kind of reference to the sexes of the participants. Eliminate any need for a ceremony, blood test, etc. Make it a contract that you sign, or something. You know, lawyery stuff.

Then, marriage can be the domain of the religions. If the Catholic church doesn’t want to recognize same-sex marriages, they don’t have to.

Thus, no gay marriage, but same sex couples can enjoy all of the benefits of any other opposite sex couple.

After all, it’s purely a semantic argument – Conservative Christians claim that they don’t mind if homosexual couples have the same benefits as opposite sex couples, they just don’t want it to be called marriage. They say marriage is a religious term, which it sort of is.

But that’s the great thing about the rules within groups. A Catholic man can’t say he’s married to another Catholic man. Their rules don’t allow it. But a non-catholic man can say he’s married to another non-catholic man because he’s not in the group that disallows it.

To paraphrase Penn Jillette: only a Phi Beta Kappa recipient can wear the Phi Beta Kappa key. That is exactly why I, a non-Phi Beta Kappa, can wear a Phi Beta Kappa key – because I’m not in the group, I don’t have to follow its rules.

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Does anybody else find it intensely humorous that the brand name of the contaminated spinach shipments is Natural Selection?

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I love World War 2. I can’t claim the same level of knowledge that somebody like Dan has, but that doesn’t lessen my interest in it.

I feel a bit weird saying that I like a war. It seems that we shouldn’t enjoy wars, because they’re so awful. Real people die and suffer and kill in them, people I know (in some cases). They’re awful, nasty things that should never happen.

But sometimes they do happen, and for the right reasons.

See, I can’t say I’m thrilled about the current situation in Iraq, but I’m sure glad that there’s one less dictator in the world. I’m not happy that Americans are dying in a fight against a wide variety and substantive sample of the Middle East’s ethnic, religious and political groups, but I’m glad we’re taking more of them with us.

Is that wrong, for me to find pleasure in the elimination of people who are trying to kill our soldiers? I don’t think it is. Call me an idealist, but I don’t think we’re the bad guys.

I have friends and family in the military. These are people who are very dear to me. They all, universally, are happy that they have the opportunity to serve the United States. I won’t fault them for that. What kind of citizen would that make me?

I will always respect my friend Doug’s opinion of warfare and the politics thereof. See, he’s an active, participating member in the armed forces, and grew up surrounded by the apparatus of the US Air Force. He’s studied more of it than I ever will (and I do a lot of reading). His astute observations in a recent blog of mine constitute my personal opinion of the Iraq war, because he said so. Not only do his observations make sense to me, but I consider him kind of an expert on the subject. Just as I would go to my father, a lawyer, for legal advice, I go to Doug for advice on modern warfare opinions.

Anyway, World War 2. We fought a handful of bad guys in that one. I’ve been playing a lot of games themed to that era, from Company of Heroes to Medal of Honor. I’m not really very good at any of them, but I’m not bad, either.

When I was a kid, we went to an air show that had a lot of army surplus junk for sale. We got two kinds of grenades, and some bullets, and stuff like that. The grenades obviously didn’t have any explosive stuff in them – they were drilled from the bottom and the fuses were removed. The bullets were similarly emptied. But they still had that distinctive smell of gunpowder, and the cold, utilitarian feel of tools.

They weren’t toys, and they didn’t seem like toys. I don’t know if we ever played with them as such. I just remember holding the pineapple in my hand, wondering what it would have been like to throw that at somebody in order to kill them.

Anyway, war sucks, but if I had to choose one, I’d choose the second world one.

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If every seat is considered First Class, doesn’t that mean that nobody is in First Class?

When you go to Target and buy the following items:

- 8 pairs of plain, white socks
- Medal of Honor: Pacific Assault
- 1 plastic cup
- 1 box of cookies
- 1 pizza cutter
- 1 frozen pizza