Writer Bios

T.L. PORH (mondays)
Mr. Porh is perpetually shocked at how little he understands about anything. He releases IDM tracks under the name My Filtered Acceptance and runs a profitable amateur group therapy practice called Our Filtered Acceptance. He is available for weddings, birthdays, graduations, and any other occasion where you can substitute pie for cake.

SECRET LION (tuesdays)
Shh! What’s that? Can you hear that? It is the sound of Secret Lion eating your dreams and shitting them out for gold and cheap fame on the interweb. When not shaking tiny artificial t-rex limbs at an uncaring sky that echoes like the crypt of God, Secret Lion steals money from people, leaving illustrations and designs in its place. He enjoys DJing, fermented liquids, and traveling nowhere fast.

FYSHER, Champion of Orgrimmar (wednesdays)

I am a hunter. I have considerable skill with guns, bows, swords, staves, and other instruments used to bring Thrall’s enemies to a fitting end. However, his Lordship Thrall has tasked me with stalking a different prey. I am to seek out the mysteries behind the Pixel Veil, what is referred to in ancient lore as Real Life. The term troubles me for it implies that my life may not be as real as I’ve imagined and my only recourse is  this pen that tends to explode (that’s Goblin engineering for you). Every Wednesday I quest beyond the veil and report back to Thrall and whoever else cares to listen.

SAMUEL SLAIN (thursdays)

He was lied to when he was little. The TV whispered in his ear that all the things that matter in life are Scrooge McDuck kinds of money, a car that is cherry flavored and burns through its tires in less than a kilo mile, having lots and lots of sex with anything that can’t outrun you, and Happy Meal toys. It wasn’t until he got older that he learned that the TV lies to you– life is really all about rich tender experiences that are found in the laughter of children, the breath of wind on his face, the gentle touch of a loved one. For it’s to each of those that one seeks comfort when they get older still and realize the TV was damn right and they would kill a laughing child if it would just Ctrl-Z.

THE PHILOSORAPTOR (fridays)
Philosoraptor: (fi-lŏs’ə-rāp’tər) Noun. A small, fast, carnivorous dinosaur of the genus Velociraptor originally of the Cretaceous Period that is about 2 m (6.5 ft) in length. Thinks profoundly on life and death while eating its prey alive. Consequently it is also widely believed to have coined the phrase, “Food for thought.”

JERICHO SYMES (weekends)
Some say his tears taste of battery acid and that when he speaks it sounds like a 300 baud Bell 103 modem trying to connect. He finds it unfortunate that Bugattis and court side seats can only be enjoyed by the sorts of people who can afford them. Hippies give him hives and Limbaugh-ians makes him want to drag his nails down a chalkboard. He definitely had a piece of yo’ mama and he doesn’t blame it on the alcohol.