"I've got this killer up inside of me... I can't talk to my mother, (friends, women, coworkers, associates, affiliates, city council, the internets, the homeless or even your mother) so I talk to my diary."

-that Scarface song from Office Space

> It is pretty bleak here... an introduction <

Time: the unmistakably¬†final frontier. These are the musings of Gaspar, separated from and furthermore lost to the kingdom of Zeal in 12,XXX BC after a caustic event at the Queen’s Ocean Palace and for a period of undefinable personal history only calculable by himself at a now untenable state of lucidity, has been stranded in the place where all eras, actual and potential, do converge.

His mission: to lackadaisically peruse the human developments, specific events and curious creatures of every period in these plausible histories; to neurotically discuss his ruminations of said designs with the unconcerned victims of circumstance in his presence… and to boldly venture beyond the inner sanctum of his ever encroaching madness, a concentric demarcation carved out and now consistently patrolled by the callous internal sentries of his ubiquitous assimilation.

And who could expect anything more from his vantage point there?

From My Vantage Point Here = a comic indulgence based on the characters from your personal favorite game: Call of D- I mean Hal- sorry, I meant Mass Effe- no, that one other game… I, I think it rhymes with “so go figure.” Yeah… I was thinking of Call of Duty… XX? …whichever one they’re on now.

You know you still buy them.

>Begin whistling “At the End of Time”…

NOW<

Or! Have at a disclaimer before you begin your journey!

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