One of my hidden strengths: Parodying songs.
First up: Denis Leary's A-hole
Folks, I'd like to sing a song about the Magic Player's dream. About me, about you, about the way our Magic playing hearts beat way down in the bottom of our chests. About the special feeling we get in the cockles of our hearts, maybe below the cockles, maybe in the sub-cockle area, maybe in the liver, maybe in the kidneys, maybe even in the colon. We don't know
I'm just a regular Joe with a regular job.
I'm your average Magic the Gathering slob.
I like dragons and warlocks and angels with hearts.
I've got a room filled with thousands of cards.
My Jund, my Naya, my Red Deck Wins,
I'll play them 'till your head spins.
But sometimes that just ain't enough to keep a man like me interested, oh no, no way. No, I've gotta go out and have fun at someone else's expense.
I play Mindslaver and control all your turns,
while you get to die to your very own burns.
I play control
I play control
I use Baneslayer Angel and then swing for five,
even though paying for it cost me my wife
I play control
I play control
Sometimes I throw Remand right in their faces,
just before opponents start leaving their places
I play control
I play control
Maybe I shouldn't be playing another Jace
running the show and controlling the pace
Maybe I shouldn't be countering their plays?
Nah!
I play control
I play control
You know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna get myself another Jace the Mindsculptor, true blue, who can Scry 1 or Fateseal 1 or Ponder and Unsummon and even exile the other guy's cards. Yeah! And I'm going to put him in a deck with All is Dust after bouncing him and Baneslayer Angel, while I laugh as the enemy has to put all his permanents that have colours into his graveyard. When I'm done with that, I'm going to wipe my mouth, wet from all the drool, with your cards and laugh, degrading you for not playing a single card that wasn't countered. And there ain't a Garfield-damn thing you can do about it. You know why? Because I've got the counter spells, that's why.
Two words--counter freaking spells, OK? Jund, Naya, Rock, they can have all the bombs they want. They can put a big fatty smack dab in the middle of the stack and it won't make a lick of difference, because I've got the counter spells, OK? Mono blue control's not hosed- it's frozen. And when they reprint Counterspell, I'm gonna thaw out the Mono U and it's gonna be pretty pissed off. You know why? You ever played against Raffinity? Well, multiply that by 15 million times. That's how pissed off Mono U's gonna be.
I'm gonna get Jace and Stifle and Force of Will and Baneslayer Angel and a case of energy drink then drive down to the PTQ (Hey, hey, hey!)
(You know what? You really are a control player)
Why don't you shut up and exile your library, pal?
The beautiful Jaya stands looking out over Pennsylvania Avenue Northwest from her position on top of a statue. She is positioned next to a hotel, its sign long faded.
Before her, looking down the street and past the burning refuse, Jaya can see the Capitol Building. It has taken quite some damage in those two and a half centuries since the bombs dropped, but it still stands. Jaya scoffs. She didn't care much for the history of her country.
Even though she had retrieved copies or sometimes the original documents of special occasions, the Declaration of Independence being one of them, she had no ties with what was her country. The only ties she concievably had was with the slavers down in Paradise Falls. They gave her money. Money paid for gear. Gear got slaves. Slaves got money. And that's how Jaya lived her life.
Of course, there was the scouting of the city. Doing work for a group called Reilly's Rangers, she occasionally travelled there to cash in for the reconnaisance she had done.
It was dangerous, sure, but it paid well.
Jaya checked her assault rifle, making sure it was combat ready and looked around. To the right was the hotel, the one the statue belonged to. On her left was a ruined building, looking on the verge of collapsing.
The one thing, however, that really got her attention was the building behind her. She had seen it on pre-war posters. It was the White House. Surrounded by rubble, it had not fared well in the war. The entire lawn was littered with signs warning for radiation.
Judging from the hole in the ground, Jaya suspected it might have been a target in the war. Not unlike Megaton. She smirked.
Then, a sound from behind her drew her attention. Turning as fast as she could, her helmet almost falling from her head, she saw a Brotherhood patrol saunter in sight. Maybe she'd try to loot them...