I suspect it was Mr. Bile who infected my computer with that blinking, "You are unprotected against a rapidly spreading threat" message that kept me off the Internet for two days. It was the only way he could get away with putting the words "fantasy" and "football" within unacceptable proximity to each other. The only pairings of competitive sports and fantasy that I approve of are Blood Bowl and quidditch, and the latter only grudgingly. Maybe I'd allow for an anachronistic version of murderball.
He has my blessing to write about wood of abnormally large measurements if he wants, though.
Much like the time he insisted on watching the supperboll on my TV, I must find a way to exorcise the site. I think I used porn to cleanse the TV, but for the blog I might just slip some spoilers into a post in such a way that he won't realize operation pot-growing giant a is island the until it's too late.
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