I have an embarrassing truth to admit. Since moving to the west coast I have been web disabled at home. Thankfully there’s a cure for such a condition, and the good folk at Time-Warner cable hooked me up for a resonable price. My left kidney.

To celebrate my internet access and loss of a redundant organ, I joined the other editors for some multi-player Ghost Recon. I tend not to play online because of the high occurrence of chumpfoolery, but I have to admit there’s nothing more satisfying than shooting your website admin. In the dark.

I also discovered the intense joy of rocket overkill. Why pop someone with a rifle? It’s so functional and efficient. Why not maul them with a rocket launcher at close range? Even if he brings along a buddy you can get them both! And probably yourself! Nothing says scorn like a shot in the back with a slow, awkward, and possibly overcompensating weapon.

My rusty FPS skills - excuse me, “skillz” - paved the way for me to excel at team kills, which is to say I killed my own teammates more often than anyone else. I had this guy all lined up with the grenade launcher and laughed at his instant demise, but it turned out to be Scrimpnut. Sorry, fella.