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1600s Carribean Gangstas

After a good, long run, we have decided to close our forums in an effort to refocus attention to other sections of the site. Fortunately for you all, we're living in a time where discussion of a favorite topic now has a lot of homes. So we encourage you all to bring your ravenous love for discussion to Chuck's official Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr and Instagram. And, as always, you can still post comments on all News updates. Thank you for your loyalty and passion over the years. These changes will happen June 1.

Hello Cult.

Instead of telling you all about how I found Chuck and accepted him as my personal savior, I'm going to tell you a true story about pirates.

One night I decided to order Thai food. I have an apartment in one of those really old buildings from the 20s that necessitates I wait outside for any deliveries of this nature. No intercoms and what not, y'know? It was late at night, proll'y after midnight, and pretty cold out. The street I live on - narrow, crowded and old - was filled with fog. I could smell the ocean - that combination of salt, water and decaying organic matter. I like that smell.

My Thai food is running late, but that's okay - I don't mind being outside. Kinda like it, actually. I was just waiting on the step, trying hard not too look like a thug, when I saw the pirates. There were about five of 'em, decked out in fully pirate regalia. Long coats with gold accents, tri-corner hats, swords, billowing shirts. These men had eye patches, metal cups, and were flush with plunder. The mass of them staggered up the street, singing and carousing, groping their pirate ladies in a scandalous display of skullduggery. A hundred times more authentic than what's-his-name from 21st jump street, these guys were straight 1600s Carribean gangstas, G. The whole lot of 'em stopped at the corner, and went into my favorite bar. A couple minutes later one of 'em comes out and raises the Jolly Roger over the entrance.

Pirates, for really-real pirates, took over the bar. True story.

Now, in leui of narrative exposition, I'll provide a list of eight random things about me.

1) I test video games for a living, at night, but not every night.
2) I thumb wrestle at the drop of a hat. It's like my idle animation.
3) My favorite artist is Basquiat, and painting is Untitled (Red Man).
4) Chances are I am significantly taller than you.
5) When the drive spins, my iPod feels like it has a heartbeat and I like that.
6) I live in Long Beach, near downtown.
7) I invented pants.
8) One of these statements is a lie.