Last updated on July 25th, 2015
Christmas lights twinkled in the garage, while a chorus of colon evacuations permeated the air with vile particulates. Since the ambient temperature was 30 degrees Fahrenheit – and we were morons – space heaters and desktop computers shared surge protectors. The power went out a couple times, but that wasn’t the only contradiction to our science education; duct-taped grocery bag insulation was not found to retain heat. Though, Dio’s unholy vibrato did boost morale.
Diablo II LAN parties were depraved rituals of manliness.
For those who don’t know what Diablo II is, punch yourself. Much like in the same way that the ‘Expanded Universe’ extends the Star Wars mythos, Diablo expands on the Christian mythology canon. Therefore the objective of Diablo – through the lens of the American exceptionalist – is to send terrorism-promoting demon jihadists straight to Hell with white, privileged socioeconomic advantage in buying better items than the demons can afford.
Many of the demons adorn leathery assless chaps easily penetrated by a morning star. Conversely, their demonically enhanced terror sticks will have trouble reconciling plate mail enchanted by Christ’s embrace.
All exaggeration and lies aside, Diablo appeals to proud American laissez-faire capitalists such as myself by subjugating the under-represented. Speaking of the under-represented, I recall a night of Diablo II in the garage when I taunted my obese friend with my lean-individual ingenuity. The spectacle began following a question he asked of the party.
“Hey, guys,” he called, “should I buy this staff?”
I would have told him yes, but I didn’t have a chance before buying the staff myself. My friend noticed that the staff had disappeared from the vendor’s item list. Then I told him that I purchased it.
“Why? Why would you do that?” he asked.
Then I told him that, because his dad worked in retail, he would have to barter with me if he wanted the staff.
Confusion swelled in his jelly-belly face. “That doesn’t even make sense, Reese.”
“Oh, it does,” I said, “without defining class lines between you and I, you might get the idea that you will one day own property. Just because you work hard for something, doesn’t mean you should just get to have it without working harder for it than people like me.”
There have been other times when my friends would leave to pick up pizza. While they were gone, I would evenly distribute everyone’s gold to illustrate the dangers of socialism. When we were together, I would grab the loot before anybody else could, even if that meant sacrificing their lives.
Yep, Diablo II taught me everything I know about ethics and entrepreneurship.
Reese Venture is a comedy writer and satirist. You can follow him on twitter.