Dinner service was ruined when Dr. Doom showed up...

I was offered a job today at a restaraunt. As their gardemange and pastry chef. Which is exactly what they were looking to hire, and exactly what I am trained to do. But the real kicker isn't in the job, or its proximity to my house.

Its in the name of the building the restaraunt is housed in.

In about two weeks I may be working out of the Baxter Building.

I expect that by the end of the month I'll be on a first name basis with that strange family who lives upstairs. Though I fear that dinner service will be intermittently interrupted by crazed supervillains.

Excelsior!
(strangely appropriate this time)

My geek idols are dropping left and right!

First Prachett is diagnosed with early onset Alzheimers.

Now Gary Gygax is dead. I mean...fuck, man. The guy was only 69. All my GRANDPARENTS are older than that, and three out of the four are still ticking along.

To be honest, I didn't even realize he was that old. Ok, the only version I ever saw of him was the cartoon representation on Futurama ("And this is Gary Gygax, creator of Dungeons & Dragons." "Hello, Fry. Its a *roll roll* pleasure to meet you.")...but still!

As a result, all gaming-based webcomics, from Full Frontal Nerdity to Penny Arcade, from Order of the Stick to WereGeek, probably for the rest of the week, will be memorials to Gary Gygax.

Fuck, Gary. Its a *roll roll roll* damn fucking shame you're dead.