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Basically, the whole world revolves around Mulder

Reader Mark Wrede suggests, in a comment, a simple X-Files drinking game:

2 Flavors of Beer; Rules:
- One swallow of one flavor each time Mulder says

Scully

- One swallow of other flavor each time Scully says

Mulder

1.5. Option: Shots: One shot for each shot fired.
2. The Clock: Measure the time the agents spend juggling their badges, flashlights, guns, big phones, evidence baggies, and surgical gloves. Keep a running total per episode, per season, over the whole series.

While I heartily approve of the concept, I do not want to die of alcohol poisoning. Because, here’s the thing: People say our agents’ names a lot.
Especially Mulder’s. Really, it’s just, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, all episode long.
Here, as proof, is a little video I put together the other week. This is one episode. ONE EPISODE.

After two or three episodes you’d be dead.
Dead and buried.
Buried, like in a tomb.
Everybody at your party. You would all be in tombs.

Comments (2)

Sorry we’re slow; look at some cats!

Hi! Josh here. We’re not dead, we’re just deeply, deeply distracted by other things, two of those things being Freyja and Frigg, our new kittens. (They are both girls, so “Mulder” & “Scully” was right out. But I’m sure Fox could come up with some way to tie Norse mythology into his theory about a case, to which Scully would be all like

Mulder, those are just myths, stories people told one another as a sort of shared cultural metacommentary on—

but then Mulder would interrupt her and be all

What if they aren’t just myths, though, Scully? What if Odin was, not a “god” fabricated by bored vikings, but a man, imbued through some accident of nature or paraphenomenon with the ability to command electricity itself?

and then Scully would all raise her eyebrow and shit but it’d turn out at the end of the episode that that’s exactly what was going on more or less, because Mulder always gets away with that kind of thing. Plus the blond electrified guest star would go by “Dino” and Scully would be playing with some scrabble tiles and figure out the anagram and have a moment of doubt.)

But anyway, we’ve got an episode coming up soon, I promise.

In the mean time, you should soothe the MBA-withdrawal by checking out this new site I built a couple weeks ago, called Look At This Cat. It’s a place where there are cats and you can look at them, and it’s another big part of why I’ve been distracted.

Comments (21)

Happy New Year, Agents

Here comes 2009, and (not to get all resolution-y or anything) hopefully more steady biweekly updates to the site.

Thanks for reading, and may the whammy be with you.

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The Limey Files, Tofu backwards, and an apology

ITEM: Pilot Tracked, Lost Giant UFO Over London in 1957

“I was only a lieutenant and very much aware of the gravity of the situation. I felt very much like a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest,” he said.

ITEM: 4,100 lb Dried Tofu Sets World Record

Workers spent more than 38 hours to make this giant piece of dried tofu. It has set the Guinness World Record for the largest piece of dried tofu in the world.

ITEM: We’re really, really sorry we haven’t been updating. It turns out that the only thing more distracting than trying to buy a house is succeeding at buying a house and moving into it.

But we’re totally ready to start updating again.
We’ve even got two episode halfway done already!
Also, what’s with those giant floating words in Fringe?
They should call that show “Font”.

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Obligatory “Sex-Files” joke

David Duchovny. In rehab. For sex addiction.

Not making this up.

Next week: Gillian Anderson diagnosed with chronic acute awesomitis.

(We’re working on a writeup for Eve currently. Still trying to buy that house, but we’ll have a proper update soon, we promise. And it will involve a joke about a butt.)

Comments (6)