So, I had an update all ready, in which I rambled on for a little while as though nothing was out of the ordinary, then mentioned I was new. It would have been brilliant, I swear. It would have changed people’s lives forever, but because Wedge beat me to it, it is lost to the winds of time. I assume the eddies of probability have already tossed it up on the shores of a far distant parallel universe, where the cities are already aflame. Thus begins my soon-to-be-massive standing grudge against the boss, which I can only assume will eventually lead to the kind of internally-inconsistent explosive mayhem normally confined to movies with more writers than special-effects departments.

For those of you who care about dorkclub.com’s internal politics (the teddy bear who’s been under my desk for the past year and a half reports that he does, so that’s one,) I got the job by actually sending an email in response to an update, the shock of which apparently completely short-circuited Piyo’s brain. The handle has to do with my astonishing lack of anything resembling skill or talent at multiplayer FPSs. In any case, if there’s anything that happens to the new guy around here, I suppose it can officially begin.

Meanwhile, it occurred to me today, as I ceased to be the only person on the Internet who hasn’t seen Two Towers, that the extended edition DVD of Fellowship of the Ring is rather a missed opportunity. Sure, I enjoy watching every single cast and crew member systematically masturbating into the camera as much as the next guy, but isn’t that awfully ordinary? Wasn’t half the point of the LOTR books the way the story kept on going before and after the bits Tolkien decided to tell? If I’m right, the commentaries should have been mainly guys with stuffy British accents pointing out that one hobbit in the background and enumerating his entire lineage, and the documentaries should have been History Channel-esque histories of Rivendell. Not to mention that I’m not sure I want to live in a world where a Special Extended Lord of the Rings doesn’t have Elvish lessons in there somewhere.

So, what to do? I’m not sure, although I have this awful feeling that it involves reading The Silmarillion, which I think I’m going to let other people handle. Actually, come to think of it, I’m prepared to just go back to wondering why I’ve never liked the books even though they’re exactly the kind of books I should like, and leave this sort of minutiae to trained experts.