On-campus students have their own residential parking, and that is wonderful. Students who live in the dorms should have a place to put their cars. No problem here.

As there is an obvious problem, the University has gone to some trouble to correct it, namely erecting a new parking lot in the last few years on 8th street near Crother’s Engineering hall, which has admittedly relieved at least some of the parking problem on that side of campus. The problem continues to grow, however, and no student with a car who attends classes on campus will tell you that parking is easy.

To address these concerns, the Board of Regents and the Administration have announced their intention to make SDSU a walking campus. A walking campus. They are going to make a campus… with an already huge parking problem…less accessible to people with cars.

The reasoning is similar to a case which comes up from time to time in the U.S. Congress: should we or should we not reduce the number of people who live under the poverty line by changing the poverty line?

For the sake of all that is holy, we should not.

Attempting to change the definition of the problem in order to change the expectation of parking on campus is not only absurd: in South Dakota winters, it is downright dangerous. In September and October, I would not be greatly opposed to riding my bike the 1.5 miles to and from campus, but the solution becomes ridiculously untenable in, say, February, when I would be putting myself in severe physical danger to attempt such a thing.

People HAVE to drive to class. Telling them they have to walk because there is no parking simply removes their ability to safely attend. Unless the decision is combined with unusual amounts of creative problem solving which I have no reason whatsoever to believe is present in either the Board of Regents or the SDSU Administration, the plan will be a huge, dangerous flop.
The best case scenario is that the institution sees a drop in attendance because of the policy: people can’t drive to campus, therefore they can’t go to class, therefore they elect not to attend school at SDSU. The worst cases involve someone getting hurt trying to get to school because of a crappy policy.

Changing the rules you operate under works when the rules are changeable. It is great for removing a self-limiting belief or making innovative strides in whatever field you want. If, however, such an innovator tries to change the rules beyond what is possible, he will quickly find himself a new way to fail.

I just want to go to class. Build us more parking, SDSU administration. Don’t restrict our transportation options to make yourselves look better or enact some absurdly small effect on the environment.

In the absence of any reason not to drop from an event aside from a vague notion of “not being scummy” (Mr. Erwin’s words), one should not expect any other reaction from advantage gamers, particularly those that have had their tournament ended prematurely.

One solution to this problem leaps easily to mind: Encourage the gamers to game the system.

A $1 drop deposit on tournament entries would go a long way toward preventing unwanted no-shows in tournaments. As a percentage, a $1 deposit on a $20 tournament entry is the same as charging a $.05 deposit on a $1.00 soft drink container, and encourages players to follow through on a simple action that will decrease their negative impact on the rest of the tournament, that is, no-showing instead of dropping and taking away the opportunity for their opponent to play a round of magic.

Of course, the deposit would be returned to the players that played all rounds and only withheld from those players that did not show up for a round they were scheduled to play in.

Admittedly, this solution creates extra work for already stressed tournament organizers, but of those that I know (Steve Port, I’m looking at you) the enjoyment of the players is consideration #1 for those fine people.

Glenn Goddard of Sunmesa Events has suggested that the number of new players in the tournament was at least partially at fault for the increase of no-shows, and that may easily be, though it is suspect that the change was noticed the first week of the Planeswalker Points system’s inception and not before.

In reality, both reasons probably contributed to the high number of no-shows at the event. It remains to be seen whether or not a definite or highly probably reason for the no-shows can be determined. If the problem continues or increases and if the Planeswalker Points system can be substantially blamed in the way I’ve described, a drop deposit appears to be an elegant solution that is fully empowered to have a positive effect on players’ enjoyment at tournaments, and in that sense would wise to remember in the event that it is needed.

Most tangible charmer,
nimble torch megastar
bent, orgasmic thermal
metal storming breach.

I’m the strong, calm bear- (the)
bright, clean marmoset.
Magic, mental brothers – (the)
trim, changeable storm.

It rained today. I stepped over lumbricus terrestrises on the reinforced, chemically perfected concrete inlaid with strain relief grooves. I knew their skin was covered with a mucous membrane, which allows them to take in oxygen through their skin and that they were in no danger, but were enjoying what gardener John Mertus calls “a wild singles bar,” evidently even more exciting than ours as they can play either role. I smirked as I saw one squirm on the sidewalk, looking for a mate, thoroughly enjoying the knowledge that it was enjoying the wormy version of the good life. I stopped to watch its movement, as it slowly picked across the lubricated ground it felt so at home on. In one instant, a jacketed girl talking on her phone tromped the worm, leaving its flesh depressed along the contours of the tread of her shoe. As it flailed, half-compressed with the sidewalk, in one second I remembered everything and began to cry.

and now…

Months ago, I received a letter with no return address  in a firm envelope better called a thin dusty volcanic slate box, sealed with what would appear to be an Ouroboros Serpent in the throes of death over an oily and substatial ribbon. In my excitement and intrigue, regrettably I broke the seal and opened the package without reproducing the image either manually or digitally, and the only remains are the shattered seal and still-vivid image within my own memory. In order that the facts be disseminated as honestly and faithfully as possible, a drawn approximation of the seal admittedly wanting for a more practiced and steady artistic hand and the actual remains of the seal are entrusted below:

Upon removing the contents of the envelope, the nature of the script struck me as unearthly but strangely familiar, as if I was merely having trouble reading my native tongue. The flow of the characters suggested a hand both practiced and inhuman. After weeks of research and the script gnawing at my every waking thought, I was able to find an apparently similar language deep in the Archives of the Istitute of Esoteric Research that managed to produce workable text from what had previously been merely apparent nonsense, if undoubtably intriguing. From the beginning, the tone and language of the letter, possibly owing much to my own imperfect translation abilities working in a language which I do not, nor does any person of my aquaintance or to my knowledge work in or speak, affected me deeply, and imply that the author was writing from another time, place, or culture. This unsteady feeling was by no means assuaged by the content I was eventually able to gleam from the source. Beneath, find an example of the text, redacted for the purpose of sparing the pain of the text in the event that someone follows my own research path and endeavors to translate the meaning of the words.

I apologize for the censorship of the piece. My conviction that the content be revealed is not of itself strong enough, nor is my will steadfast in the extreme sufficiently to allow every word of the original to pass through my pen. The redacted portions are only those that caused me extreme personal pain and would, without doubt, cause similar pain in the souls of every reader of the passage without enlightening or providing positive repercussion. I cannot in good conscience release that measure of evil into the world, even as messenger or reporter. With this explanation in mind, please read on carefully, knowing that I have only removed the most damaging segments of the text and what remains may, in fact, be similarly scarring. I hope for you that your perusal is less strain to you than mine has been to me. Reproduced below is the best available translation of the original, edited by me only for the content listed above and, slightly, for ease of reading. The language and word choices have been selected for the most authentic possible account, though at times it was necessary to choose between several, and it was I who made the selection. If you are interested in a more direct translation, please reach me by the proper channels and we can come to some understanding. Please do not ask for the original, nor a reproduction, for I now have access to none except the redacted version, which I will not further disseminate. I have made proper arrangements for the piece, and it is correctly accounted for and retained, though I shrink from revealing the authority into whose capable hands I have entrusted it in consideration for multiple levels of security as well as assurances made by both parties.

Now, the letter.

Ardad, Called He-Who-Leads-Travelers-Astray

Writing this first day of Aviv, prime of 5771 לבריאת העולם [Anno Mundi ,"in the year of the world" it would appear that the writer considers their time accounted by the Hebraic Calendar] and by the sight of the unreflected glass.

In our responsibilty, cruelly enforced by the many who calls himself The Adversary, we have become grand though we were. Our reflection upon the methods and maintenance of our position shall not be called to account in establishing our unwillingness to serve, but conversely serves as portion of the campaign involving the reader and future readers whose character was judged unwilling to redoubt the assertions set forth herein in consideration of [Several personal assertions about this editor and alleged future readers redacted as discussed]. Many tales would here suffice to serve our purpose, and the tale we have selected of our methods and ineluctable successes in the neighborhood of our calling is notable only in the magnitude of success achieved in the practice of the Grand Art.

There was a man on Earth, named there as Charles. His intentions were worldly, and in our Great Plan the usual course of action undertaken in such circumstances is to allow the course of the subject’s own coarse yearnings to work on their own in accounting for the acquisition of the subject’s soul. Having grown thus acquiescent to the strivation of such subjects, it would have been inconsiderable for us to certify this course for the particular in accordance with the common administration of torment. This particular man was what is referred to as “Loamy Soil for the Plant”, in which the seeds of sin and debauchery have not even to be sown, but sprout wildly as weeds, the vegetables of damnation thusly throve even though the field is not tended by we custodians. His affinity for and weakness to all the sins of the flesh offered ample opportunity for destruction, his case could have been accomplished by strong drink, fornication or other intoxicants of the flesh with equal ease.

We, battling against our incumbent and cyclical ennui as must be encountered and defeated periodically by each in their own line of strivation, personally accounted for this case and expended much ingenuity, foresight and [Here there is an unusual word in the ancient tongue. It is commonly (as far as that applies here) translated as "consternation-production" but in this case the modern vernacular supplies the astoundingly applicable term "cockblockery", which I have chosen with all apologies for the affront this may cause the reader. You were warned.] cockblockery in the expedition and complete bedamnment of the subject. In each case when, after our consolidation of his case under our own constant and vigilant interferement, he endeavored to encounter strong drink, no bottles were forthcoming and no flasks to be found. When a bottle was encountered, in his case, through complicated time-reconstruction rituals he found them having been watered as though they were withering plants, and thus gave him no relief. In each case when, again, after our consolidation of his case under our own constant and vigilant interferement, he sought the company of a woman, he found no willing ditches into which to cast his seed, or when undesirable ditches were forthcoming he experienced the repercussions of strong drink in such matters without any recourse to the comfort thereof.

As his erstwhile pursuits where coming to naught in a most designedly frustrating and confounding manner, the man called Charlie decided to take his own life, which conventionally accounts for a great victory in the Grand Art and would have normally been not only sufficient, but a cause of celebration within these walls. We were not content with this result in this case, however, having renewed our mania and therefore genius for our own trade, and we continued our own erstwhile cockblockery [again, this is the simultaneously most appropriate and least appropriate translation of the word utilized]. Whenever he attempted to end his Earthly life through the manner of medications, a thoroughly unliked and nosy neighbor could be called upon to intervene with a call to the Earthly authorities, resulting in forced regurgitation and expenses which he was not in a position to account for. On the several occasions when he constructed apparati involving expurgative mechanisms and household equipment to remove his Earthly head from his shoulders on the next occasion that the door was opened, either the expellent or another bit of his engineering could certainly be counted on to fail at the last possible moment, he having stared at his own hoped-for demise a sufficient time beforehand, which inevitably caused intervention and additional expenses. By the time he attempted to burn away his suffering in his oven, by his own inattention and neglect and by no circuitous mechanations of our own, at the end of 30 minutes staring at a metal grate he discovered the unpaid statements of accounts from the corporation which supplied the fuel to his dwelling. Feeling the full despair of his situation, Grandly engineered by us, he, accountably, threw himself again through the oculus of his abode, unknowingly onto an ambulance waiting below, having been summoned by a hypochondriacal neighbor for the purpose of diagnosing the cause of cough, the master stroke.

In the medical house, recovering from his self-inflicted wounds and still suffering from an immeasurable amount of existential pain, he encountered a nurse known as Mary and she, through the machanation known by the modern name for the Swedish capital, was easily induced to attraction for him. Through his recorporation, she paid special treatments to him and her administrations did not go unnoticed. Soon after, they married, though they suffered a false love. Through his rehabilitation, Charlie had accumulated a strong moral sense, having accounted for his sufferings by a statement that left his prior behavior at stake, and hurried to rectify his leanings, including those of undying compliance to his past word. By the time that Mary realized that the marriage, and the three children produced of the union, were sources of embarassment and further consternation to her, Charlie had convinced himself, with no further machinations on our part, that he must remain ineluctably steadfast in his relations to her. He had also become an accountant, though having no prior interest and certainly no continuing interest in the operations of that occupation, though the salary provided the means by which his disaffected wife and offspring continued their existence. Mary, having not the will to leave of her own, remained there with him, unloving and sharp, causing his undying affection and attention to be returned with bitter disappointment and pain, through which he endlessly persevered until his dying day, on which he finally broke upon the wheel of reflection which can be counted upon to haunt those near the end of their Earthly life and recounted the reorganization of his life, which led him directly to us.

We impart this story to you explicitly for the purpose of our further machinations, and entreat you to think of it when you think of your own life.

Further correspondence forthcoming.

- Warmest Environmental Regards

Having been thus hunted, I have no recourse but to do exacly as the writer commands, the consequences come what may. I wish the reader luck in this, our shared endeavor.

Here I am.

This common phrase, so often unsaid in public for reasons that I will explore is a very powerful statement.To me, it means you and I, the two of us, are likely to get along and have a very extensive set of shared experiences and even language, no matter the languages we each speak or the countries we each live in. It says “I play games in my free time,” “I enjoy fantasy,” or simply “I like to compete.” If someone I meet says these simple words in a public arena, that is a conversation that will continue.

This, of course, is not true for everyone that hears those words. As has been stated in many articles, videos, twitter posts and just about every other format available, the expectation that these words will instantly freeze any social situation is the danger, near-completely internal to our community. “Nerd” is no longer even a strong prejoritive, as those with specialized knowledge rise to prominence  and technology pushes the world forward on every front. The timid player worries about  typecasting. Not to belabor the image of the anti-social nerd, but internally many players see only this face of Magic. In every community, there are people who struggle with social subtleties and the modernly ubiquitous “awkwardness”, and yet in most communities these few do not define the image of the community as  a whole. What is it about ours that we allow it to do so?

Ubiquitous and overused. Vague.

Ever since I heard the Wizards promotional slogan “Here I Rule” it has gnawed at me. I couldn’t place it for the longest time, and I tried to pinpoint what it was about the words that kept it up. It seems upbeat. Here is a place, a community in which I can succeed, I can prosper, I can win. I don’t know of a person who doesn’t want that. Still, the slogan kept gnawing at me until I read it on a poster at GP: Denver and my contrary mind still filled with the residue of our collective stereotypes immediately produced the reparte “… but nowhere else.”  Of course, this upset me and I tried to reason my way out of it. “There’s no way they meant it that way…” I said to myself. “They couldn’t possibly have, that would be just a huge jab at everyone.”

... but nowhere else.

The more I argued with myself, however, the less I could see another possible meaning for the slogan. The continuation of the phrase seems naturally to flow from the phrase itself. “Here I rule, but nowhere else.” Now, I’m a spikey kind of player, not one often given to analyzing the fantasy elements of the game, and certainly not one that follows all of Wizards’ marketing efforts with any degree of continuity, but this flat offends me. As a continuation of the stereotypical view (again, within the community and not outside of it, please go tell someone you’re interested in that you play magic and check out their reaction after you explain it, it’s a viewpoint-altering experience) the copy is unmatched in unabashed pandering. Magic players are successful people, within or outside the community. We play the game to enjoy ourselves, whether through winning the tournament or jamming some EDH with friends. For god’s sake, Wizards, give us some credit. We don’t play the game because we failed out of the rest of life. We play for fun, for the social aspect, for the challenge, for the excuse to travel, and extremely rarely for the money. Give us the benefit of the doubt and help us escape the stereotype, break down the psychological wall that separates the community from the mainstream and get others involved who would like to play the game, but are successful in other aspects of their lives. We wouldn’t want to miss them, would we?

If you are merely an average member of society in the modern age, as most of those reading this will be, your life-or-death-decision-making skills are probably in a deep state of atrophy. I suggest a rigorous, yet measured, life-risking program. If you skydive, frequent violent-biker bars, or have unprotected sex with strangers frequently, the world will quickly give you feedback that will improve your decision making skills for the future. Well, that or you’ll buy the whole thing.