Hey Mike, go duck yourself.
No, actually, go duck yourself. I think Kostoff was just trying to get you ready for me ‘cause I’ve been throwing a lot of Koopa Shells at you.
My first rant I gave you a shovel. I forgot the soap, though. My bad! Here’s an Ivory bar, lather yourself up real good. We all like to suck our own NES controllers around this world, don’t we? Man, the bravado and arrogance in HOW is palpable sometimes, particularly from you.
Mike, you’ve got more bugs up your ass and glitches in your head than Cyberpunk 2077. And I would know, I preordered the game and played it right away lol.
Christ almighty, you’re more juvenile than the 14-year-old punk ass kid that got booted from my discord last week. Are you sure you aren’t him right now? Like the fact I don’t know where the clitoris is, is something to make fun of. I know where the R3 trigger is.
Nothing you say is gonna make me cry. What? ‘Cause I don’t come at it with a joystick shoved so far up my ass and play by your rules I’m the wrong guy here? Stop getting all thirsty, snowflake.
You can’t convince me of anything. You’re angry, I’m fun. I’ve been around HOW enough now, seeing everyone quiver in your wake. Heaven forbid someone tries to approach your “throne” from a different angle.
By the way, Tiger Electronics was a mighty fine company for its time! If anything, you’re EA Sports. They put the same shit out over and over again and so do you. Every bloody disc of yours I throw in the High Octane system, I see Mike Best with the same obnoxious lunacy. Oh, you’re good at it, don’t get me wrong but you’re not original. You’re just AVGN #101.
“I’m Mike Best. [Enter burial note here. Add in a swear, or two, or three, or four, or five, or six, or seven, or eight, maybe nine or twenty-two. Make it all personal. Rip and shred my opponent. Have them contemplate the meaning of life. Don’t forget to swear.]”
Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. I’m just returning the favour after you went all game on me.
EA Mike. He’s super lame.
I mean, I could be this bad-ass, edgy “loose cannon” who flies off the rails and throws in countless fucks to show the length of my extension cord, too. I just prefer to be cute and I’m not a toddler.
Like calm down bro. I OFFERED TO GAME WITH YOU but now I’m considering rescinding! You’re so hard up for yourself, it’s painful to hear.
Don’t worry, after you go chalk you can sit inside your castle while everyone else acts nice to your face… but in reality? They shake their head at the pathetic loner you actually are.
It’s funny how that’s coming from a guy like me.
No one cares about the Final Boss. You have less friends and fans than this virgin kid living in his mom’s basement eating chocolate chip cookies for dessert right now. (Side note: the cookies are delicious.)
And this isn’t a popularity contest either, oh I get that. I draw a line inside the ring. I don’t have the longevity you do in HOW. That’s obvious. Can I get the accomplishments? We’ll see. But I give absolutely every ounce of sweat I can and I will own every W or L I’ve had coming.
Ya man, I am clever. Creative. And I do masturbate. Quite a lot, actually.
But not to pics of myself in the mirror. I get the sense that’s your game to play. Or you can call up that tiny “supportive” fan base you have that pretends to like you. You know, your old mates. Invite your dad, too. After all, it’s his company. Get them to cream all over your repetitive speeches, circle jerk your Life Bar up a few notches, if you will (and you will). You live for that… because deep down inside, you’re a sad, sad man who comes from a dark place and wishes he could be more than he already is.
You’re looking for your End Game, Mike. I know it. And it’s okay to outright admit it.
And when I give you that reality check, you won’t get a chance to blow your own load all over the screen anymore.
In fact, you won’t even get a chance to blow your own cartridge.