An Ode to Flappy Bird (in Sonnet Form)

(via androidpit.com)

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

The passions thou inspirest in me are as hot

But summer, in its endless glory, makes me rather gay

Whereas thine sensitivity makes’t me wish to get shot.

Betwixt green channels I hope you soar

My thumb’s mere press sends you amongst pipes

But now, as for ornithology, I cannot study it any more

I must empty the birdfeeder, for I have some gripes.

Double digits evade me; my maximum score won’t rise

I tap and tap, will thou not reward my labors?

I am addicted – I must play – I shant compromise

Or shall I? I have had enough. Your uninstalling I savor.

AND NOW, STUPID GAME, I DEMAND TO BE HEARD

THIS IS WHAT I HAVE TO SAY: FUCK YOU, FLAPPY BIRD.

Samwise Donkenstein’s Preseason Top 5 Feelings About This Year

The 6th Feeling is Swag

It is my own misfortune, and indeed the misfortune of many reading this article, to have (mostly) unwittingly chosen a life of suffering and self-torture. I can’t ask for sympathy, I did this to myself, and I can’t ask most humans to understand my situation; how could you, being either outside the realm of fandom or lucky enough to root for a team by some other name?

I am an invested, devoted, fervent fan of the Northwestern Wildcats, and only a select few people to have ever walked this Earth truly know what that is like.

The Summer After Graduation: The Five Stages of Real-Life Grief

Porn: No longer acceptable on the same computer you use for work.

College is a wonderful time. In fact, you will never ever have as much fun for the rest of your life. Ever. And the moment that you arrive home after commencement, this realization hits you harder than Anthony Battle hits offensive linemen. But fear not current seniors (and everyone else, because it all ends so quickly!), for I have emerged from the other side of post-college mourning, and am here to share my experiences, so that when the time comes YOU will be prepared!