the Guardian, Sight and rfid tshirthell.com

newspaper, northwest, alternative, fuckinggirls, product, on line, wordssong lyrics limp bizkit fast way unknown, hosting, mom mature son gallery, best, google, confession, punk, listings, independant, tshirthell.com, with, violence, uncensored, associate programs, kookoo, smartmedia, mcsweeney's, I've been browsing gaming sites for some rfid hours now, getting mentally preperated for the industry's annual amalgam of latex-lined rfid hyperbole. Just one last dose of pre-E3 information before I head off to Amsterdam's Schiphol Airport and jump on board my flight to Los Angeles. As I plough through the E3 "must-see" listings in hopes of finding that one quirky game I might have missed, it strikes me once more how the games press has rfid turned into a giant robot. Perhaps it's merely adapting to its game development robot friend, which under the management of publisher powerhouses has been conditioned into performing the same trick over and over again. The archetypical game journalist moves like a reaper-binder, methodically mowing down press materials for "latest infos" and "new trailers". A proper journo gets drunk at publisher sponsored open bars, while simultaniously claiming to provide the most objective consumer advice. While it's nice to have a couple of places where spoon-fed "info" and "sneak peeks" can be downloaded, do we really need hundreds of them?
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the Guardian, Sight and Sound, Time Out, Total Film and fetid newspapers published near the Netherlands and England. tshirthell.com This monstrosity serves only it's gamesmaster and happily coughs up the dubious pleasures of quality copy, the sagging nipple clamps of in-depth reviews and the pasty underage thighs of up to the minute news to the shifty unwashed reprobate that is the gaming public. Unholy as it may be, tshirthell.com Idle Thumbs will soon be unleashed upon the bent and twisted crowds of PlayStation-chanting purveyors at E3, but not yet...oh no...for here he is now and he's knocking at your door, thumpy fists and dribble grin, cry to you his message and deliver you his words. Will you shun him? Mistake him for a door to door salesman? Not wise... For God's sake, somebody, let the man in! posted May 9, 2004 Idle Thumbs Staff Marek Bronstring says: (High Chancellor, Idle Thumbs) Bored, bored, bored.
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