Gauger Frozen Treats: Betrayal and Candor

8:39 PM on 07.24.2007   |   Eliza Gauger

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Gather close and listen, o ye sons of men, o ye prodigal daughters, o mine long lost droogs: to hell with Florian Eckhardt.

We had a deal.  It’s always been about solidarity.  Whether he was lambasting my BBW status, or I was railing against the filthy way he insists on covering his trepanation pit with that crusted fez, we stood together.  I think by now, the felt has actually grown into the scabby keloids that crest his saurian head.

But this morning I awake to find his verbal diarrhea hosed all over the front page, describing a celestial visit to Dtoid HQ, and all without me.  Me, who wedges him under the faucet whenever he’s tippled overmuch and soiled himself, then comes stumbling to my door, mistaking me for one of his ex-wives and crying out for respite and nepenthe and a soothing session over the sawhorse with a riding crop.  Do I criticize him?  Do I take his crumpled bills, scattered at my feet in paroxysms of drunken, misdirected remorse?

So what gall, what sack, what utter disdain led this man, whom I once called “friend”, to venture forth to our new overlord, to make with the bowing, and the scraping, without his trusty, crusty sidekick?  

And to add insult to perjury, I feel this post is just not up to the Eckhardt gold standard.  His usually vast vocabulary seems stunted, and he uses the word “profane” no less than eight times during the course of that penny dreadful novel of his.  Furthermore, the tutorial dragged on and on; the voice acting was terrible, the puzzles (especially the one with the dog penis and the Filipino boys) were completely opaque and totally unsatisfying, and that cutscene he stuck in the middle was an endless gauntlet of hideous jokes and repellant characters, all narrated by a shrieking goblin with an aroused cat up his nose.  Was I playing Overlord?  No, it was just Jamie Kennedy, crapping up an already disappointing post.  

Overall, this latest Florian offering shows just how much syphilitic dementia can impact an otherwise brilliant writer.  While I do not blame the man for his afflictions, and understand that the Sex, Drugs & Guitar Hero lifestyle of the gonzo blogger is the secret to our beautiful and maddening prose style, I am forced to give Florian’s First Day at Destructoid HQ a 4.3 out of 10.