Wherein the Baron declares his column.  Rearranges his furniture and tells you that this column isn't going to be touchy feely play nice shit.
	A cold wind blows and the monsters prowl about.  Vampires suck unless they're hot chicks and Werewolves kick the most ass.  Discover why.
	Kingdom Hearts kicks balls, ya, your balls childofkorn938574143879.  It's okay unbelievers the Baron leads you to video game enlightenment.
	Boo Hoo Seahawks lost the Superbowl.   The real tragedy is that not enough of you are reading any cool comic books.  Take a gander at some good 'uns.
	Baron contemplates the Olympics and segways into why we should maybe start looking a models other than Games Workshop.
	A space marine is painted.  Dark Angel, because Dark Angel's are love.  Yes, love.  Pure and unadultrated.
	Starved for Role Playing goodness, the Baron joins a group with a female gamer.   Ah boobies, they fuck with a role playing session so.
	There are people you need to kill.  We prefer to keep the murders out of real life and keep them wholly in the realm of fantastic.  Here's 10 that should go.
	The Baroness strikes!  Putting the kiabosh on the Baron's expense account.   Can dorkdom prevail?  Tragedy and strife my friends.
	Intentionally edgy?  We get the lowdown on anti-tactics and a hard to swallow chill pill for the Fantasy players.  Oh, and Baron was formed from Darkness.
	A birthday without pain?  Does such a thing exist?  The Baron searches for the answer and get back to his roots with his first GW miniature love.
	Karma?  Hoodoo?  Fate?  Powerful magicks are unleashed on the Baron's life as life deals it's cold hard hand and the deck is stacked.