and i'm always like,"Who's playing the drums?"

I wish the dorks downstairs who play HALO every second of everyday, providing a never ending barrage of fake automatic-artillery and various grunting noises, would go to war. The real war. Where they'd have to man up. And then they'd get shot. But they wouldn't die. They'd lose a limb here and a limb there, but with technology so advanced these days, it might actually be an advantage for them because they would be part robot. But the technology for robotic hands is not yet so perfect as a human hand's fine motor skills so they would either have to give up playing video games and crush cans all day or learn to play with their tongues. But hopefully the game would just give them flashbacks to the trenches and they would just sit there in silence with the blinds drawn and crushed cans strewn about, thinking only of dark days to come. And then I might go down and swap war stories and ask if I could try out their bionic replacement parts. We might even become friends and I would help them out of their depression by providing numerous statistics about soldiers who commit suicide and how they would have wanted to live if they only had a friend. Like me. And I would take their robot hand and say,"Don't you be a statistic [insert name here]. DON'T YOU BE A STATISTIC - DO YOU HEAR ME!?" And I would crush the Xbox in dramatic culmination, beautiful in its simplicity. Then after we all got over the moment, I would ask, "How the hell did you guys have girlfriends before you went to war?" Which is the real question.