MTG Cardsmith Community Forums
Competitive Comment Contest (CCC)
This is a fun contest, where the top ten people to comment every day (Pacific Time Zone), will get points:
Prizes for commenting in top ten:
1st: 10pts
2nd: 9pts
3rd: 8pts
4th: 7pts
5th: 6pts
6th: 5pts
7th: 4pts
8th: 3pts
9th: 2pts
10th: 1pt
Standings
Prizes for commenting in top ten:
1st: 10pts
2nd: 9pts
3rd: 8pts
4th: 7pts
5th: 6pts
6th: 5pts
7th: 4pts
8th: 3pts
9th: 2pts
10th: 1pt
Standings
This discussion has been closed.
Comments
Time to get roasting... My turkey for dinner.
I'm a nice person, I only roast teachers.
"A flower does not think of competing with the flower next to it,. It just blooms."
However, I'm a competitive person and I love the challenge of mastering new things.
I'm not competitive; I just have to be the best at everything.
XD
I'm not competitive either or that I really want to be the best at everything.
I am the best at everything
Conceited>Competitive?
http://mtgcardsmith.com/view/fatal-punch
Because points
Lol. <--This was a great comment.
if you like it, tell me so?
~Pieces~
I don’t have the vaguest idea of what, exactly, had happened to me this morning. I was on my way to an appointment I believe, one with a person of some importance. I recall nothing especially queer about this morning in particular, although I did think that I might have contracted a slight head cold, or something of that nature. I awoke in a manner reminiscent of every morning I recall from recent past and resolved to ready myself in preparation for my upcoming meeting with much alacrity, albeit in a slower than usual time frame due to the previously mentioned head cold. After morning readiness had been seen to and breakfast had been eaten I decided a walk to the town library would be a reasonable use of the time I still had to spare before needing making my way to the center of town to meet the Task Advisor. Did I mention him yet? Of course not, I’ve only just remembered that so how could I have already informed you? The Task Advisor, That’s it! I was on my way to speak with him this morning! I crave pardon for the manner in which I have digressed.
The Task Advisor, with whom I was to have audience this morning, is a man of little sympathy or pity for his fellow man. He has a hard face, made only more so at the mention of lessened work for the citizens of our long-since fair city. His nose is blocky and the stony appearance of his jaw matches the gaze of his eyes, his hair is the color of burnt cinnamon. He is broad for his stature, most claim it comes from excess of consumption which they are never permitted, and his temper burns hotter than a blacksmiths furnace. On the surface the Task Advisor appears a calm, resolute, and hard man, but one misplaced word can set him on fire as a match would a lamp. His position is under that of the Custodian who is one of many men assigned positions over cities by The Choice—a self appointed sovereign power made up of twenty or more wealthy men that have, since their mock inauguration, moved themselves to a central city from whence they could more easily “rule”. The Task Advisor however doesn’t hold with our Custodian’s ways and in many cases simply made decisions on his own. This is the man with whom I was to have my meeting.
My real reasoning for making a visit to the city library in advance of this appointment was to prepare my mind in quiet for the exact mode of conversation I would employ. The library was the last beautiful structure in our city. Giant columns of intricately worked iron, wrought metal, and stone depicting machines laboring amongst trees and rivers, books opened to blueprints of steam powered vehicles, battles with foreign invaders who used scythe equipped metal suits, and flying balloons and airships wrapped in thin steel and copper frames shaped like leaves on tree braches. Yes the library still remained beautiful in spite of its surroundings. Walking deliberately, not quickly, inside I continued my quiet marveling at the wondrous structure. The entryway had a roof made of iron and copper lattice joined with stained glass imagery. How I loved to gaze straight up at the glass craftsmanship high above; the highest point of the enclosure must have been a good fifty feet above the ground upon which I stood. Ancient deeds performed by heroic individuals were depicted in stunning and colorful glass, their hues somewhat sullied by the semi-toxic and thoroughly polluted atmosphere outside. Man with his machines fighting for riches, territory, or freedom depicted by colorful panes. I had seen it countless times but that didn’t stop me from seeking further immersion upon each and every visit. The display was so vast, so intricate, and at such a distance, that my eyes would happen upon something new in a detail or gesture among the many depictions with frequency even after long exposure. It was for this reason that many new me by my habit. “There he stands gawking yet again” I might overhear from a passerby, or even, on occasion, one of the employed. Not once did I heed them.
“Why should I withhold the pleasure of observing this artistry from myself” I would mutter quietly, “its purpose is, after all, to be looked at.”
I love the world, but it doesn't love me.
Everything is a lie. Only between the words of the insane can we find the truth.
I don't like it either.
How about every ten billion points?
But so in talk you will find words,
And in words you will find talk.
The talk forms the word,
And the word was the talk.
The word was with talk in the beginning.
So to talk the words,
We must word the talk,
Less not the talk talks without the word,
For there is no talk without words,
And no words without the talk.
Let not the talk control the word.
Whut
Ikr
How about:
"A freckled and frivolous cake there was
That sailed upon a pointless sea,
Or any lugubrious lake there was
In a manner emphatic and free.
How jointlessly, and how jointlessly
The frivolous cake sailed by
On the waves of the ocean that pointlessly
Threw fish to the lilac sky.
Oh, plenty and plenty of hake there was
Of a glory beyond compare,
And every conceivable make there was
Was tossed through the lilac air.
Up the smooth billows and over the crests
Of the cumbersome combers flew
The frivolous cake with a knife in the wake
Of herself and her curranty crew.
Like a swordfish grim it would bounce and skim
(This dinner knife fierce and blue) ,
And the frivolous cake was filled to the brim
With the fun of her curranty crew.
Oh, plenty and plenty of hake there was
Of a glory beyond compare -
And every conceivable make there was
Was tossed through the lilac air.
Around the shores of the Elegant Isles
Where the cat-fish bask and purr
And lick their paws with adhesive smiles
And wriggle their fins of fur,
They fly and fly 'neath the lilac sky -
The frivolous cake, and the knife
Who winketh his glamorous indigo eye
In the wake of his future wife.
The crumbs blow free down the pointless sea
To the beat of a cakey heart
And the sensitive steel of the knife can feel
That love is a race apart
In the speed of the lingering light are blown
The crumbs to the hake above,
And the tropical air vibrates to the drone
Of a cake in the throes of love."
Of course. I didn't write it.