X, Y, and Everything in Between

I've been giving a lot of consideration to X and Y recently, as I'm sure many of you have. And, I don't mean to brag, but I am something of an expert on these matters, and I totally do mean to brag. Since I'm such a respected authority of the field, I'm sure that many have been waiting to hear what I have to say. Well, fear not, my flock, for it is now by my immeasurable grace that you shall find yourself unnerved by how much I sound like some kind of creepy cultist. And so, without further ado, I will now start talking about math. Because, you know, variables.

Really? Sorry, doesn't ring any bells

But before that, I'd like to talk about arithmetic. Now, you may be wondering why I just slyly implied that arithmetic isn't math. It's because I don't believe that arithmetic is math. Well, not Real math, anyway. Saying that arithmetic is real math is like saying that singing "Head, Shoulders, Knees,  and Toes" is practicing medicine, or getting in a playground argument is practicing law, or that I ever practice the clarinet: Hilarious. And yet, despite how trivial and elementary arithmetic is, people still manage to mess it up, and the only proper response is to get really angry and tell everyone how wrong they are. Like so:

It's about to get pretty mad in here. Viewer discretion is advised.

 Yes, of course, I'm talking about one of these stupid goddamn PEMDAS things that you always see on Facebook. When I saw this, my first instinct as a math major was find some clever math way to turn this into something it clearly wasn't meant to be. (Well, 3x3 is clearly 0, because any vector crossed with itself is 0, HAHAHAHAHA I know things you don't) My second instinct, as an internet man, was to look at the comments, and feast on the bountiful harvest of rage laid out before me. Naturally, there were plenty of people getting 18, because the American education system has failed them, Big Government, Idiocracy, ect. Some even had the audacity strain the bonds of their shackles of ignorance, and accuse us, the Knights of the Twelve, of incorrectness. And while the foolishness of a fool too foolish to realize his own foolishness is sad indeed, it is no cause for mourning. Neither grief nor rage can bring them to the light, so steeped their souls are in darkness. They reside in a place from which there can be no return. The Lost Zone, I guess.



But it is not these, who have forgotten that which has been taught to them, who have me dismayed. It is those who remember the vile lies they have been taught, striking out against the light of truth, and thinking themselves agents of justice for it. It is The Cult of Six who are a truly pitiable lot. They are the fundamentalists of the Church of PEMDAS, taking its word for how it is stated, rather than for how it is meant.



PEMDAS, for those of you who have probably been very confused for a while now, is a mnemonic for remembering the order in which mathematical operations occur in a mathematical expression. It stands for Parentheses, exponents, multiplication, division, addition, subtraction. So if you have some mathematical expresion, operations in parentheses are evaluated first, then exponents, then instances of multiplication and division, then instances of addition and subtraction. Some common mnemonics for PEMDAS are “Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally” (The boring one that everyone knows), “People Expect More Drugs And Sex” (Randall Munroe, of XKCD fame), and “Passing Egregiously Makes Dunking Awesomely Satisfying” (A Havoc Mantis Original).



So if, for example, you have the expression 2*(9+1)-3^2+20/5, you would first do the addition in the parentheses to get 2*10-3^2+20/5. Then, square the 3 to get 2*10-9+20/5. Perform multiplication and division to get 20-9+4. And from there, the answer is clear as day, right? Of course! The answer, as can be clearly seen, is 7. Because in PEMDAS, subtraction comes after addition, so you add to get 20-13, which is 7.

Remember this? This is what you should look like right now.

If you are nodding your head in agreement, or thinking to yourself, "Well, gee-wiz, that Havoc sure is correct. Only a devastatingly witty and powerfully sexy person would be able to type something so correct at 3:30 in the morning." then I am terribly sorry to inform you that you are wrong. Well, not about the part where you lavished me with compliments, but the part where I was right. You see, I was actually pretending to be wrong. The real answer is 15. Also, the cameras that you use to keep constant surveillance on me must never have sprung forward, because it's actually 4:30. It's no big deal, since Daylight Savings Time changes back pretty soon, but I just thought I'd let you know.


I guess the point that I'm trying to get at is that in PEMDAS, addition and subtraction happen at the same time. There are those who have been deceived, and would let you be deceived, given the chance. They say that subtraction happens afterwards, and I have taken it upon myself to tell them that they are wrong, and endeavor to guide them to the path of righteousness. It's over there, guys.

The path of righteousness is your weapon in the zombie apocalypse. How screwed are you?

If it helps, just remember that subtracting a number is the same as adding that number times -1. The multiplication goes before the addition, and then you add the negative number the same way as you add any other number, going left to right. Division can be thought of the same way, as multiplying a number that is taken to the power of -1. Are we all on the same page here? Can I stop bitching about this? Awesome.

Well, remember when I said that I was going to talk about math, but first I'd talk about arithmetic? Well I only said that so I could make those jokes, because I don't think there's any actual math I can talk about without talking over everyone's heads, while simultaneously being funny or enjoyable in any way. Unless you want to play cross-product tic-tac-toe? (You do not want to play cross-product tic-tac-toe)

Having exhausted math, I suppose I'll see if I can undash your hopes and talk about Pokemon, as I kind of promised in the beginning. I don't really want to spoil too many things, for my readers or myself, so I'll avoid talking about too many Pokemon, but there are some issues that need to be addressed.

"Issue" may be a bit of an understatement

Now, for those of you who aren't already in the know, would you care to guess what this thing is? Well, yes, I agree that it is an "abomination", but I was hoping for something a little more specific. An alien? Not quite. The shattered fragment of an orphan's forgotten childhood? Almost. I'll give you its name: Espurr. That's right, this thing is supposed to be a cat. The real problem with this Pokemon is its waste of one of the greatest names in Pokemon, made only better by how much it sounds like something out of Virtue's Last Reward, what with its abundance of cat puns, but no other reason, because of spoilers. I cannot identify a single trait of its appearance that indicates that it is a cat. I'm told that apparently its ears have something to do with it? What about the fact that it clearly seems to have 6 legs? Or its eyes, which are more unbalanced than psychic type in 1st gen? Or its rippling chest hair, reminiscent of a friend I've decided to refer to as "Baja Blast"? Perhaps I should just move on to the next Pokemon.

When I said that I was typing at 4:30 in the morning, this was the reason I couldn't sleep.

This Pokemon is the dusk that draws the sanity of mortal men to its end. It is beautiful in Its terror, and It is terrible in Its beauty. It makes Its home outside the scope of humanity, far removed from that which has been crafted by human hands, and far removed from that which has been imagined by human minds. It is removed from the trappings of human description. It labors not for good or evil, for order or chaos, for hope or despair. Its song is sung in languages that cannot be understood. That must not be understood. To gaze upon It is to feel that a piece of you has gone missing, yet know that it was not taken. This void within you has existed since the beginning. It has only made you Aware. It is a perfect contradiction, embodying that which It is not, giving form to what could never be. It is the weight that must exist to counterbalance the laws of an ordered universe. It is the knower of all that cannot be known. It is that which existed Before, and that which will exist After. It is too fearsome to be feared, too lovely to be loved, and too powerful to be stopped. It hates not, it loves not, it feels not, it does not. It is. 

Gal Bursten it.

Natalis Felix Diem

We've now graduated from Greek to Latin titles. I guess that means this is my last post, because I really have no idea what comes after that. Elvish?

For those of you not fortunate enough to have taken a semester of high school Latin, today's totally-weird title means “Happy Birthday”. Or maybe it's “Happy Birthday to you”? I don't know, it was only a semester. All I really remember from Latin is the Pledge of Allegiance in Latin, which is somehow even more creepy than the regular Pledge of Allegiance, because everyone knows that everything said in Latin is a binding truth. That's why Rome's Senate failed. Politicians are crooked. Zing

I am saying “Happy Birthday” because it is someone's birthday today. I mean, it's always someone's birthday, but today is the birthday of someone close to me. That's right, it's none other than my mysterious content manager! Oh, and my sister as well, I guess. And maybe Satan? Because of taxes. I really, really hope that I manage to complete this before the end of April 15^th, or else that bit about Satan is going to seem really silly.

So... Happy Birthday? I haven't really planned on what to say after that, but I have a reputation to uphold. I can't just stop typing as soon as I run out of things to say, or I'd be more silent that Madame Kovarian.

Happy Birthday! Here's a reference you won't get!

Every paragraph so far as started out kind of related to birthdays, then wildly veered off to some barely related topic. This post has more tangents than... umm... a function that is differentiable on the interval (-∞,∞)? Except, you know, hyperbole. While ∞<3 might be some schmuck's idea of a cute math joke, it is not a mathematically valid statement, so I feel it necessary to include a disclaimer acknowledging that my statement is not literally true, merely an exaggeration made for comedic effect, because any mention of math automatically makes for side-splitting entertainment. I'd hate for my math professors to stumble upon this blog and judge my skills based on a joke. Actually, I can think of a few more pressing reasons why I'd be uncomfortable with future professors reading this. I'm sure you regular readers know what I'm talking about. Perhaps even those with bowel troubles, as well. Speaking of which...

Oh! Sorry! I should have clarified. I was referring to unwanted readers. Not bowel troubles. I'm afraid you'll have to go somewhere else to sort those out. I am fresh out of advice on the matter. In an event that would probably be described as ironic by someone out there, my parents happened to discover my blog. Right after that post where I specifically mentioned how awkward it would be if they ever found it. So, while that whole thing about this being the last post was a joke, it actually might be a very real possibility.

Of course, I am only joking. I know that I shouldn't toy with my readers' emotions like that, as I know that many of you have come to rely on me as a source of comfort and wisdom. But there will probably be some changes. First of all, I'll probably put a stop to mentioning Katawa Shoujo, or at least severely limit mentions. The reasons for this are pretty obvious if you know what that is. If you don't, then I'd recommend that you don't worry about. Just rest assured that it's totally legal (I was 18 when I downloaded it.) But just so we're clear, I'm not being forced to do this. It has nothing to do with my parents. I'm doing this because I want to, not because I have to. Beyond that, there probably won't be any major changes, because my parents are actually pretty cool, loathe as I am to admit it. If my grandmother, on the other hand, were to find this... I don't know what I would do if my grandmother read the word “asshole”, and she knew that it was me who typed it. It would be wrong. More wrong than ∞<3. Hahaha just kidding, math grad schools.

See, Content Manager? This is what happens when I don't have someone to tell me what to do. Chaos, and anarchy, and nonsense. I mean, even more than usual. Oh, by the way, I hope it's okay for me to give your birthday to everyone on the internet. You know what they say: it's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, and, as it turns out, it's even easier to not do either of those things. In the unlikely event that your secret identity is discovered, just let me know if the paparazzi gets over-excited. I'll have them dealt with.

Well, I hope you enjoyed this post. Sorry it wasn't the best, but it's the thought that counts, right? I certainly hope my sister thinks so, at least...

A Gentleman's Challenge

I have recently been issued a challenge. The challenger in question is the same person who requested the last article. Apparently she's now in charge of deciding what I do and don't write about. Yeah, I'm just as shocked as you are. Also, she's given me permission to use gender specific pronouns when referring to her, so it's totally on her if internet hooligans reverse engineer this data to kidnap her.

I lack a very particular set of skills

The challenge is to use seven specific words, all in one post. Now, I could easily just make a post that consists solely of those chosen words, but that wouldn't be very sporting, now would it? And if there's one thing I'm always doing, it's sporting, because no one here has more gentlepoints than me. So I am making a game out of this. I will use all seven words in this dubious post, but it is up to you, the reader, to try to guess which words were assigned. Now, you can rationally expect that the chosen words will be awkwardly shoe-horned in, so I will be awkwardly shoe-horning as many words as I can into this post, in an attempt to obfuscate the identity of the chosen words. Because I can't sport all the time.

Now, you may be wondering what it is that I'll actually write about. And the answer is that I have no idea. The purpose of this challenge was to be an enticing offer of a topic, but it's failing pretty badly at that. I mean, I guess that it inspired me to write this, but I'm not terribly happy about it. Hell, I've written two paragraphs so far, and the closest I came to a joke was maybe-threatening to kidnap my friend. So, as with all of my previous posts, if you fail to find this amusing, I implore you to blame someone other than me. I would consider that swell.

So, I'm sure you came here for a very specific reason. You told your computer to navigate to this particular locus of the internet so that it could tell your monitor to emit photons in a pattern that will react with the chemicals in your eyes in such a way that they sends signals that your brain processes as words, which your brain will react to with amusement, leading to the release of some kind of pleasure chemical. Probably dopamine, because that's what we always hold responsible for our pleasure. Now, as you read that monumentally lengthy linguistic construct, you probably noticed that those were all things that were indeed happening. Up until you read about pleasure chemicals. As you may notice, the pleasure centers of your brain are dryer than the 1920's, a joke that would actually make sense if it weren't for speakeasies. They are more parched than a thirsty barber. And for this dreadful lack of amusement, I apologize. On the behalf of my friend. Because it is totally and absolutely her fault.

Well, I can only deprecate myself for so long before it starts to get legitimately sad, so I'll see if I can find something else to talk about. Hmmmm... well, it's said that you should write what you know. And you know what it is that I know? Math. So I will now talk about math. I had hoped that it would never come to this, but my hands are tied. The Godzilla threshold is crossed. Calculus, algebra, trigonometry, geometry, abstract, applied, mathology... I'll talk about all of it. And there's nothing you can do about it. Well, I guess you could just go to one of the innumerable sites on the internet that's more interesting than watching me struggle in imaginary-time (It's the opposite of real-time, you see). So I guess I'll start with mathology, since that's something you've probably never heard of. This is because I made it up, completely independent of the mathology that Stephen Colbert apparently made up. You see, mathology is like mathematics, except it is a science, which means that it involves observation and experimentation. If you think that's stupid, that is because you are smart and right. Mathology is more or less math without all that pesky rigor or practical applications  The first rule of Mathology says that if a formula or equation works for at least 3 cases, then it probably works for all cases. Because all numbers are basically the same, right? Now that I've explained mathology to the best of my ability, I'll try to talk about something else. Any discussion of calculus would probably quickly devolve into me bitching about integration by trig substitution, which I am gruelingly relearning as of this writing. So... um... geometry? I think I found a general case formula that will allow you to quickly calculate the area of any regular polynomial of n sides, with each side having a length of s. The formula is as follows:

Note the use of degrees, rather than radians, indicating that I am no true mathematician.

Ironically, this formula has not been tested by Mathological principles. But if you feel qualified, I'd appreciate it if you could check my work. Furthermore, I've also derived formulas for... wait a second. I've already used the word that I was planning on using, so I can just abandon this train of thought. 

So, now that I can feel my will to write trickling away like an ebbing Tide, (Arm and Hammer is more prone to flowing.) guess I'll... do something? I guess I could explain the joke that I just made, because it's a well known fact that the most valuable jokes are the ones that necessitate explanation. You see, the tide is something that ebbs, but tide can also refer to Tide, which the internet assures me is a laundry detergent. Arm and Hammer is another laundry detergent, and it flows, which is the opposite of ebbing. This is because of comedy. Because this is basically just stream of consciousness now, here's a fun fact: some guy named "Armand Hammer" was apparently a major shareholder in "Arm and Hammer". It's not like he founded the company, so it wasn't named after him. On the other hand, I can find no mention of this on his Wikipedia page, so I am faced with the inconceivable possibility that Cracked.com lied to me. On yet another hand, for some reason, the real Armand Hammer sold alcohol during The Prohibition through some kind of legal loophole. While I would love to end this post with the arrival of that full circle, I still have at least one more word to write, and as the esteemed Hershel Layton always says, "A true gentleman may find himself faced with 99 problems, but he always ensures that a bitch is not among them."

OG: Original Gentleman

Whelp, it looks like I'm going to have to go to my fall-back topic. It seems that I have no other hoptions. That's right kids, it's time to talk about about Zero Escape again, because continually discussing a game whose greatness is mostly derived from shocking twists is a Grade-A idea. In case this is the first post you've read on this blog, I beg you to go back and read something different. I promise, most of my other posts are at least a standard deviation above this one when it comes to the facilitation of chuckles. But also, I'll explain the Zero Escape series. You see, in both games, you're kidnapped by a person in a gas mask who calls himself Zero, and then you have to Escape from wherever it is that he's locked you up. Both games have you playing a Nonary game, which has nine participants. The only way to Escape is to win the game. The two Nonary games have different rules, which I won't talk about because of spoilers I guess? The first game in the series is called Nine Hours, Nine Persons, Nine Doors, and if that isn't the right order for those three things, then I really couldn't care less. Just type "999" into Google. Tell'em Havoc sent you. He'll know what you're talkin' about. It is for the Nintendo DS. The second game is called Zero Escape: Virtue's Last Reward, and is for the 3DS. Or the PSP Vita, if you're a chump, but I have faith in my audience to not be chumps. Since there's nothing I can really say about it that wasn't said in previous posts without giving away too many details, this section amounted to little more than egregious name dropping. Neat.

Now that my fall-back topic is expended, I guess I'll have to fall even further back to... Katawa Shoujo? Haha nope. Not gonna happen. I'd rather that worm come in here and eat you all alive. It would take a miracle more miraculous than a magnet made of rainbows  that looked like its father for me to talk about that again.

What's that bandage doing on that heart? I certainly don't know.

Have I mentioned how much I love the word "conflagration"? It's really one of my favorite words. It basically means "fire", but it sounds radder, badder, and nastier. A "fire" is something that you use to solemnly light a funeral pyre. A "conflagration" is something that use to drunkenly set your ex's house ablaze, then direct towards the constabulary when they start being a bunch of buzzkills. I just thought that it would be a good idea to surreptitiously introduce the word "conflagration" into this post, apropos of nothing.

But what I really brought you here to talk about is Pokemon. Competitive Pokemon battling, to be specific.  If you're wondering how competitive Pokemon battling differs from regular Pokemon, the adjective "competitive" indicates a battle between two human opponents who have their shit together. Level 100 Pokemon, optimized natures and EVs, and teams with coherent purpose are all hallmarks that set a competitive battler apart. Also, switching. To use a football analogy, keeping a Pokemon in when you have a disadvantage is analogous to receiving the ball, then somersaulting across the field saying "Sonic's the name, Speed's my game!". Actually, that analogy works pretty well for any sport. And if you know anything about competitive Pokemon battling, you know Smogon University, the authority in competitive Pokemon Battling. They rule the Pokemon battling metagame the way that Oprah ruled basically everything: They have no official power, but everyone just listens to what they say anyway. They have more street cred than a hippopotamus. Get it? Because they're hip. Anyway, despite the frequency with which I talk about how competitive battling ruined my ability to enjoy Pokemon, it's actually a blast, if you can get the hang of it. If nothing else, I probably have more fun reading about various Pokemon than I do actually battling, because that just results in tears. If somehow even less else, a team of EV trained top-tier Pokemon will surely be more than a match for your unenlightened friends, even if it would get you laughed off of Shoddy Battle. And, in the end, isn't life all about proving yourself better than your peers? I certainly think so. So if you're bored, and thinking of picking up a new skill, why not give Competitive Pokemon Battling a try? It'll probably help you understand what I'm talking about down the road when I inevitably start bitching about some Pokemon or another on this blog.

There are going to be so many new base stats to memorize! I'm so excited, you guys!

And with that, it seems that we're in the home stretch. All words have either been used, or can feasibly be fit into this concluding paragraph. While I'm sure I don't need to tell you this, I feel like I should for legal reasons: Do not try to guess the 7 words. That is stupid, this is stupid, and it's all stupid. But you're not stupid. I don't mean to insult your intelligence, but there's really no way guess which of the 1000+ words here I was assigned. It's like trying to define a triangle when you only have an angle and a side. So just bubble in "D. Not enough information given" with your number 2 pencil, and go to the next question. It's not too late to do something great with your life. Learn a language. Take up an instrument. Learn a computer language. Fall in love. Buy a stamp. Commit arson. Really, just about anything you could do would be a better use of your time. And with that, my dear readers, all the words have been used. The gauntlet was thrown down, so I picked it right back up, and used it to punch some words into submission, Brockway style (This reference assumes that you are intimately familiar with the Cracked Columnists). But I don't want this to be a precedent. I don't want people thinking that they can just challenge me to write with whatever conditions they choose, and I'll happily oblige. They say that artists produce their best work when working under constraints, but this place isn't about good work. It's about practice. We ain't talking about the game. We talkin' 'bout practice, man. We talkin' 'bout practice. You've been a lovely audience. Thank you, goodnight. 

Also, if you read this far hoping to learn about the musical TV special against the Doctor's orders that was promised by the label, then I regret to inform that you've been deceived. I just thought it was funny when Ryan North did it, so it would probably be funny when I did it, right?

Gaelic? More like Gay-lick, amirite?

Sorry about that, guys. I literally could not resist. My body was taken captive by ancient and primal spirits of crude humor, and I was forced to watch in horror as my very own fingers wrought this disrespectful pun. It absolutely has nothing to do with the fact that I am basically a 5 year old.

Anyway, at the request of one of my friends, I am going to talk about Irish and Gaelic Mythology. This was likely something that s/he (gender obscured for anonymity’s sake, even though the idea of me talking to a girl is laughable at best.) suggested jokingly, but it would seem that s/he underestimated just how desperate I am to write about absolutely anything, and how averse I am to coming up with my own ideas. So to him/her, I ask this: Is this the victory you imagined? Are you satisfied with what you've created? Because, if you are, then perhaps it is only because you have not read on.

So. Irish and Gaelic mythology? Well, honestly, I don't know a damned thing about either one. I couldn't even point to Ireland or Gaeland on a map. Holy crap! You know what literally just occurred to me? (As I am writing this, not as you are reading it) “Ire” comes from the latin root “ira”, which means anger or rage. Someone tell the stereotype committee! Their groundbreaking work in portraying the Irish as angry drunks was right all along! The Romans said so. Now might be as good a time as any to mention that I don't know the difference between “Irish” and “Scottish”. Now, I could say it's because I believe in the greater whole of humanity, and I dislike giving people labels, but in reality, I just don't give one thin shit about who you are or where you came from. Unless you came from the moon or something. Then I'll have my people call your people. Fun thought experiment: If a joke falls flat on a blog that no one reads, does the writer still make a sound when he cries himself to sleep at night? 

Now, the first thing that comes to everyone's mind when they think of “Irish and Gaelic mythology” is the Loch Ness Monster. Now, I'm actually fairly sure that Loch Ness is in Scotland, but as I've previously discussed, I don't care, and I refuse to look it up, or I'll run out of my already sparse repertoire of things to talk about. As we all know, Nessie is a creature that unequivocally does not exist. If you believe that s/he (Is Nessie the friend that prompted this post? Perhaps) does exist, please stop. Your field of “cryptozoology” is the worst thing to happen to the suffix “-ology” since astrology. Or maybe Scientology? On second thought, that joke was in poor taste. Scientology is definitely a legitimate religion, with which I have no qualms. This is an official statement that is in no way being made out of fear of legal prosecution.

Man, I really need to learn to stop trailing off my paragraphs into overly long jokes. But I digress. Like the vast majority of myths, Nessie is indeed mythological. It is a fantasy creature that could never exist, like a sane blogger. As you may know, the Loch Ness Monster is purported to live in Loch Ness, or “Lake Ness”, if you don't have a speech impediment. Stop laughing. Speech impediments are a serious problem, just like the racism necessary to assert that an entire country is incapable of pronouncing a word correctly. According to world-renowned monster expert, J.K. Rowling, The Loch Ness Monster is actually a kelpie. A kelpie, according to her, is a shapeshifting beast that spends most of its time as a horse. But in the water, for some reason. This is because a kelpie is a monster from Irish(?) mythology that looks like a horse, but sometimes turns into a beautiful woman to lure sailors (notoriously gullible when it comes to beautiful women in suspicious places) so they could kill them. The fact that Wikipedia describes the Kelpie, a figure from Irish Mythology, as looking like a horse, then shows a painting of a naked woman, is proof that Wikipedia has a sense of humor. It's the stealthiest bestiality joke ever made. Or was it the Scottish that were notorious for such affairs?

Another figure I vaguely remember from Irish Mythology is Finn McCool, who... killed people, or something? I remember hearing about him from the website "Badass of the Week" , which is about exactly what it says on the tin. Before you click that link, know that the author describes is as containing "an unnecessarily copious amount of profanity". So don't say I didn't warn you. From what I can tell, Finn was more or less like an Irish Kratos, at least as far as defeating the local pantheon's God of War goes. One of my friends describes his story rather admirably here, in a video that he honest-to-God turned in to an English teacher. He fails to mention how the salmon that Finn burns his hand on was a salmon of wisdom or something, which is the science responsible for his smart-knowing. Finn also apparently really hated cartographers, judging by all the geography he caused. He is said to have created the Giant's Causeway and the Isle of Man, making him roughly as strong as a tectonic plate. Also, “McCool” is a pretty cool last name. Like anything else that's Irish, it can be spelled in at least a baker's dozen different ways, but “McCool” is easily the best.

And now, at the suggestion of the same friend I mentioned at the beginning, (The one who takes full responsibility for any complaints you have about this post) I'm going to talk about something called a “bean sidhes”. Despite sounding like a painfully inauthentic new menu item from Taco Bell, this is apparently... a banshee. This is what I'm talking about, Scottland. No one will take you seriously if you keep intentionally spelling things with the intent to obfuscate what it is that you're talking about. Now, as you all know, a Banshee is a Covenant light aircraft that features two rapid-fire plasma cannons as its primary weapon. Its purple paint job and unusual cockpit clearly designate it as an alien aircraft, because humans would never design a vehicle so ridiculous for the purpose of warfare.

Clearly a work of advanced alien technology

I suppose it also bears mentioning that “Banshee” is also the name of a kind of ghost that screams a lot or something. Apparently they shriek when someone is about to die, kind of like how you see a doppelgänger when you're about to die. In fact, I think the concept of doppelgängers might also be Irish/Scottish/Gaelic/Celtic. A quick Google search... denies. Looking back, the umlaut probably should have tipped me off that they were German. This is a great disappointment to me, as I was all ready to link to an article about Doppelgangers. The more I can link to other people's work, the less I have to do myself, which is always the primary goal to which I strive. Anyway, Banshees scream when someone is about to die. But send not to know for whom the banshee keens, it keens for thee.

And, for the big finale, I'm going to talk about Cat Sith. Because the Irish are downright masters of deception, it pains me to report that these are not feline masters of the Dark Side of The Force. They are basically a race of fairy people, but they are also cats. Like all fairies, they are humanoids with wings, and they can do magical things, like cast spells and fly. What differentiates them from other fairies is their cat ears, which are totally kawaii. Some myths purport them to have a verbal tic that causes them to sporadically insert “nya” into their conversation, as well as refer to themselves as “neko”. And, because this section is purposely engineered to make my friend regret suggesting this to me, I'll say this: some rumors suggest that Cat Sith play a role in the plot of Zero Escape: Virtue's Last Reward. I cannot say what they do, nor can I respond to any accusations that this is obviously just a joke. Or is it?!

A wistful guess of what could have been

So, to the reader that provoked this desecration of a once-proud heritage, I ask once again: Was it worth it? Do you now regret what you have inflicted on this world? Let me know in the comments! You know who you are.