A lunchtime spent playing Minigore is a lunchtime well-spent. (Should that be hyphenated? It feels like it should be.)


Sometimes, though, Minigore makes me sad, because I know that however many furries John Gore shoots in the face, eventually they’re going to overrun him and kill him, the poor box-headed bastard.

And then I realise that that’s a bit like life. We spend our days “shooting furries” (literally in the case of Blake Shelton, less literally when you’re a software developer living in Kent), but eventually we die.

And then I realise that, far from making things pointless, like all French people think while smoking cigarettes in coffee shops and getting unsatisfying blow jobs from philosopher-groupies under the table (subs please check), that it just means that that the fight is the thing, the point and that life is made all the more meaningful, not because we can someday “win”, but absolutely because someday we’re going to “lose”.

And then I remember that that was the message of the TV show Angel, which seemed to spawn countless numbers of (mostly Canadian) vampire detective shows, but we shouldn’t hold that against it.

And that reminds me that I have to spend this weekend watching season one of Dollhouse, because it’s filling up my Sky HD box and season two starts soon.