The Michigan Daily - Tuesday, April 18, 2006 - 11
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The Gamekillers OBITUARIES April 2006
( ttme TSiileb
Joe Magner
Rashid Theodore
Andy Tider
Ross Barton
Peter Moyse
Mike Choi
Judd Engelbrecht
absence of any posterior-knocking.
Instead, Rashid's spicy prospect was
beginning to show classic signs of
eye-drift and to none other than, Man
Candy, the sugar-sweet confection of
a Gamekiller revered for his talents
at topping cherries like Rashid's lady-
friend. And indeed, another game
met its demise, as it is also a generally
accepted rule amongst women that
candy is the truest way to a woman's
heart.
MAGNER, Joe, Acton, MA
It is with great sadness that we mark
the passing of Joe Magner's game. A
game once respected for its ability
to overcome great resistance. It was
in the process of doing just that;
charmingly dismantling the defenses
of a bubbly blonde sorority girl,
when Joe turned and saw someone
beside them, intently watching their
conversation. Alas, this person was
a Gamekiller, and none other than
the over-educated, pseudo academic,
knower of everything, known as IQ.
The Gamekiller whose sole pleasure in
life is using his enormous brainpower
to extricate girls just like Joe's. And so
it was that IQ quickly and seamlessly
steered the conversation to the
dilemma of quasi existentialism. Joe
asked if the conversation was for real.
Setting himself up for an intellectual
pummeling. By the time Joe had
finished struggling to hold onto IQ's
train of thought, he had lost his hold
on the girl. Natura non contristatur'
Joe. Natura non contristatur.
any man who tries to score while in
the chill out room of a rave, especially
if that chill out room is inhabited by the
cuddly teddy-bear of a soul otherwise
known as The Gamekiller, Sensitivo.
For as cute as rave girls can be in
a pair of neon purple pajamas, it is
best not to tell them so when they are
in the middle of wondering why the
Earth doesn't orbit around love. Nor is
it cool to try to cop a feel inside their
fuzzy one-piece and pass it off as a
momentary lapse of depth perception.
Nor is it cool to mention that all this
music seems to be stuck on repeat.
And these were just some of the many
lessons Ross learned from Sensitivo,
the last of which came when Sensitivo
took his BunnyFlower home at 9 a.m.
to, "Just, you know, mellow out and
lounge on his warm, velvet comforter."
MOYSE, Peter, Washington, DC
This is to mark the demise of Peter
Moyse's game. Peter's game had
been happily working on a pair of
foreign exchange students. Well
aware that there's so much that can be
misinterpreted as charming and witty
when there's a language barrier. Peter
was about to go for broke, offering to
teach them the meaning of his favorite
(and only) French term: mnage a trois,
when fate dealt him a cruel blow, for in
walked The Gamekiller, The Balladeer.
A walking repository of meter and
rhyme, The Balladeer is more than a
pair of ripped denim jeans and an
unruly haircut. For as any music groupie
would attest-especially those who
could care less about lyrics-a song
sung is like eight octaves better than
one spoken. Peter could have kept his
game alive if he'd just kept his cool.
But did he? Hell no. He stepped out of
his game and went all a cappella on
the foreign beauties. Leaving the girls
with no choice but to nightcap at The
Balladeer's house where he delighted
them to his latest chart-topping track,
"Just the Three of Us."
Wamr Kiith
Choi was unaware that within earshot
of his gross misrepresentation was
the Emirate for which the UAE was
named after the financier who prefers
currency with his own likeness on it,
The Gamekiller Switzerland calls on
for financial planning, Kash Munni.
And what a shame it was, to watch
something as genuinely humanitarian
as Choi's definition of philanthropy
die a quick death at the 24-Carat
gold watch laden wrist of Kash
Munni who needed only to turn it over
once and say simply, "The limo, my
lady, awaits." Leaving Choi feeling
philanthropic only to Glen, the genial
bartender.
TIDER, Andy, Teaneck, NJ
Andy Tider's game was alive and well.
Busting up the place and making the
ladies say, "Da-am." His game was a
fine thing-full of one liners, well-timed
nods and boyish smiles. He was firing
smoothlywhile he talked too litheyoung
American princess named Sharleece.
Lines like, "You should be called Shar-
LACE. Because you're beautiful, and
so is lace," confirmed that his game
was flying on all cylinders, until along
came the future hall-of-famer himself,
The Bailer. The one Gamekiller with
more moves than a nomad. Andy
Tider could have kept his cool, could
have shrugged off The Bailer's play for
his girl with a simple pump fake to the
bar and a drive to the Sharleece lane,
but instead he got caught in The Bailer
full-court trap. And before he knew it,
Tider and The Balser were re-enacting
Detroit vs. Indiana 2005. Andy Tider,
you are the first player to Turn an easy
lay-up into a personal foul. Somewhere
up there, Andy Tider, Wilt is laughing.
ENGELBRECHT, Judd, Brainerd, MN
Judd's game was proceeding along
nicely as it followed closely behind
the toned and tanned posterior of
his athletic date, Beth, on a bucolic
mountain bike ride through the hills
of San Francisco. When all of a
sudden something punctured Beth's
tire, leaving it and subsequently Judd's
game, gasping for air. For, while Judd
tried to repair the tube, along the path
came The Gamekiller who has never
consulted the thesaurus, known simply
as Early Man. And, as all damsels
in distress will do, while Judd tried in
vain to remove her tire from the wheel
frame, she gradually grew weary
of his laundry list of excuses and
began to turn her attention to Early
Man whose brain might resemble a
slime mold, but whose biceps require
their own zip code. And before Judd
could say, "Uh, Beth I thought we
were on a date here," Early Man had
picked up Beth, perched her on his
shoulders, and took a caveman-like
pride about showing her each and
every hill of San Francisco, then
Sacramento, then Santa Barbara, and
finally, San Diego.
THEODORE, Rashid, New York, NY
Were it not seen by many a witness at
the club, the death of Rashid's game
would remain a mystery befitting one
of the many crime scene investigators
portrayed nightly on television sets.
For it is a generally accepted truth that
when men get off to a great start with
a girl at a club, they soon expect to
find themselves suavely working that
woman's torso into a tangle on the
dance floor. (With particular attention
paid to the rubbing of the palms, the
elbows, and of course the occasional
posterior. But, Rashid's case was
peculiar, and no matter how fluid
his conversational flow was flowing,
Obituaries can be created
via email to friends at gamE
BARTON, Ross, McDonough, GA
Approximately at dawn or sometime
early like that last Saturday morning
marked the death of Ross Barton's
game. Which came as some surprise
to Ross who thought for sure he was in
CHOI, Mike, Queens, NY
The once valiant game of Mike Choi
died this past weekend at a charming
pub well known to locals as a killer
pick-up scene. The evening had begun
auspiciously when Choi was asked by
a beautiful lass what he did for a living.
To which, Choi replied convincingly,
"Philanthropy." On any other night
I and sent
ekillers.com
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