When I play my crappy and obsolete 12 year old disc of Season Ticket Baseball there are some known quantities. I'm obviously not playing against real people, so the temptation to cheat is huge.
The program's reaction reinforces the lack of humanity. Two free agents with the same name.
As a real human with a real (fucked up) life I pause and say to myself, "time to get some sleep."
But wait. There's more to be done on this planet.
I haven't raced to get at the first person to sit at an all in bullshit table of poker. And my life is not complete without complaining about stalking. I would love the attention of a stalker. I'd fuck a woodpile on the chance that there was a snake in it.
Complaining about stalking when there is no conscious poker thought behind it is seriously fucked up.
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