Jason and I spent a bit more time in Kentia just because we needed the laughs. And they were full beer belly laughs from the depths of our fucked up souls. Just looking around at the company banners and all the hand outs got us giggling like little school girls on crack. A good portion of the signs and flyers had massive spelling mistakes or suggestive images that were obviously not the original intent of the marketing departments of said corporations (the marketing department usually consisting of Marty the janitor, when he's not cleaning up the vomit from potential investors' mouths after they see and smell the main board room stall [fyi: All of the game enterprises that had set up shop in Kentia Hall had marketing execs/janitors named 'Marty']).

One example of said fine advertising was a hand drawn flyer of a manly "Conan the Barbarian" type guy and a lovely "Sheena of the Jungle" type babe looking all serious and vexed. But the word balloons pointing to each of their groins had text like: "This is great news and lovely product to sell!" "Many buy this fine product and are happy with expectations!" Hell, if I could buy Red Sonja's lower body I'd be a happy camper too! Though, my expectations would be set pretty high from the get go.

I tried to keep the flyer as proof of the fact that either Kinko's Copy's employees are dumb as bear shit, or that they are the most evil people in the world (You just know that they were guffawing their asses off at this poor company and yet they did nothing to correct the print. Hell, they probably encouraged the whole thing and told the Japanese business man who came to pick the print-outs up that he was sure to make a 100 percent superior quality money bag after the convention), but Jason traded the flyer for a stale piece of pizza at the cafeteria when I turned my back. He got sick and puked all over Marty the ad-man for Massive Potent Import Games ten minutes later. I then laughed at him.

The girl in the above photo was one of the cutest booth babes at the entire con. Unfortunately she was stationed in Kentia Hall, where all the companies that couldn't even sell crap to an Eskimo ended up. I started flirting with her and got her to touch my "rugged ninja shirt", but soon it became obvious even to my ever desperate eyes that the only thing she knew how to do was pimp her "champion superior Korean product of satisfaction". Even more disappointing, she was only referring to the cheap plastic piece of shoddy electronics on the table behind her.

After a while even the heckling of sad, lonely and dried up businesses grows tiring and depressing. Honestly, I can't imagine how there were any people in that display hall at all. Why so many of them did not commit seppuku in order to save face once they were doomed to Kentia I'll never know.

The Lordsboy and I headed back up to the swinging section of the ol' E3 to get our minds back on the possibility that life can be cool for those who want it to be... as long as they don't work for a company named "Digital STD" (needless to say we stayed away from that display). Soon we were back in the land of Grand Turismo 3 and Metal Gear Solid 2. And it was good. I drove my little Audi up Jason's crack 4 races in a row on the aforementioned excellent GT3. Maybe it wasn't an Audi... But it was a foreign car and it did look like a piece of shit (sorry, Megaplayboy). It handled well though. And I won. That's all that matters anyway. I wiped my ass with the bastard! To make up for all my flaunting and middle finger pointing at him, I took Jason over to the Konami booth to play some Solid Snake. The Lordsman did pretty dang good for himself and cleared several rounds of bad guys in a matter of seconds. I on the other hand kept getting blown away like a Colombian drug informant who goes home to South America for the holidays. I'd walk in a doorway and BAM! I'd creep through the pipes and BAM!! I'd take a few minutes off to bang the bejeezus out of a Commie hooker and BAM BAM!!! And the game was even less forgiving.

After having all of my digital bodily organs stepped on and shot 325 times each I called it quits and showed Jason some of my real covert moves. I snuck up behind the bitch, stuffed a big cheese wheel in his mouth, snapped his neck and then stabbed him a few dozen times in the face with a spork I found on the ground. It turns out that that kind of attack isn't even lethal to fluffy puppies though, and psycho Jason then proceeded to lose it as he dressed up in military garb and tried to sniper me like Ed Harris in Enemy At The Gates.