My mom never minded cleaning fish, until one day when she was pulling out the backbone of one and it curled up in her hand.

I don't know, it looks more to me like Evil Wil Wheaton just finished handing Goofus the marker...

From the "Little Known Facts" file of Sparks McGee: http://theelkmechanic.tumblr.com/post/19414182342/little-known-fact-gene-roddenberry-was-a-big-fan

All I know from ascots is my grandfather used to tell a joke where the punchline was something about how lovely some woman looked with her ascot over her shoulder.

That last paragraph sounds like at least one of Will Hindmarch's daily tweets. So at least you're in good company.

Well, to be fair I did mention the fiction (which is awesome and if you haven't bought it you should and I'm looking forward to more). I guess my point was that calling Wil a writer is kind of like saying Da Vinci could draw a bit, or Newton was pretty good at math.

But you're not a writer. John Scalzi is a writer. Ursula K. LeGuin is a writer. Harlan Ellison is a litigious hothead, but he's a writer. And yes, you do write stuff, amazing things, from blogs that welcome us into your heart and hearth, to hilarious and heartfelt memories of the future, to awesome short fiction like Hunter, The Day After, and Star Trek comics. But you're not a writer when you sit down behind a DM screen and transport a group of players to another universe, or when you sit down with nothing but a sheet full of numbers and create a vibrant living character. You're not a writer when you take someone else's words and make us feel both frustration and sympathy for Dr. Parrish, or disgust (and maybe a little jealousy) for Fawkes, or just make us laugh out loud as you torment poor Sheldon. No, you're not a writer. You're the Bard of Pasadena, a modern-day minstrel for the geek set. You are our Storyteller, who gathers us around the fire and lets us know that there's a safe place for us in this world, that we are a community, that we are family, and that all those things that growing up we thought separated us from everyone are really what bind us together. So go ahead. Call yourself a writer. But don't ask me to. It's too small a word.

I could make the obvious "EGGSTERMINATE!" joke, but I ... oh, wait, I just did.

I'm actually a little torn about gluten-free becoming a fad, because it does have the advantage that there's a lot more gluten-free options available (and a lot more mainstream companies coming out with gluten-free choices) than there were when my wife and daughter were first diagnosed. I just hope that as the fad passes, the options don't go away.

My wife and daughter (and my wife's sister, and we're pretty sure their dad, although he won't hear of it) were also diagnosed 6 years ago. Having to be careful of what or where you eat is a pain, but it's a huge relief actually knowing what was causing symptoms for all those years and how to avoid it.

This brought back fond memories of the huge pile of comics in my bedroom closet when I was nine. Pardon me while I go order some sea monkeys.

I only ever find cobwebs and chipmunk nests in my garage. I think I'm doing something wrong.

That's much nicer flooring than the water-damaged plywood I found when we pulled up the carpet in our family room.

I am regretting the decision to ditch cable more each day.

I am looking forward to reading Wheatonesque, especially the chapter where you sit in a corner eating Chapstick. (Also, Wil Songs didn't make me think whale songs, but rather Hillsong. I feel a sudden urge to sway back and forth and send you money.)

It could be worse, I could have picked this one. http://www.twitpic.com/1cj9ds (Hey, don't complain, you're the one who told us to get creative and make things. You didn't say GOOD things, though.)

I don't know, I think this is my favorite. http://twitpic.com/1cbpt4 But that one is a close second.

I'm assuming you wrote Manna (the bread from heaven the Hebrews ate in the wilderness) as opposed to Mana (spellpoints) because you're still recuperating from what sounded like an awesome weekend. Either that or it's a subtle way to celebrate Passover.

When you talked about the most important thing in a game for you being the story and your desire for your delve players to roleplay, I couldn't help but think of The Gamers: Dorkness Rising. If you haven't watched it yet, you need to add it to your Netflix Watch Instantly queue right now. I thought it was going to be a badly filmed, poorly acted, amateur production, and it definitely is, but it's also wonderful and funny and really makes me wish I had the time and the friends to get into pen and paper RPGs. And also made me never want to play a bard. Ever. http://www.netflix.com/WiMovie/The_Gamers_Dorkness_Rising/70104325

Can I get a whole stack of those for our lovely New York governor, who doesn't seem to want to leave office until AFTER he's gutted our state park system?

First thing that popped into my head when she sang, "Stop! 'Cause I rrrrrrreally love you," was this classic: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=--FiFX-UpW0

I do the same thing, and it can definitely put you in situations where you end up in unexpected places. The first time through Fallout 3, I played what would probably be considered a lawful good character, which was probably a bad choice considering the setting. But she did her best to help everyone along the way, until the path she'd taken through the world and the events that transpired because of it (not going to post exactly what, since it could be considered spoilerish) convinced her that the world was broken, and the only way to save it was to end it. She completely snapped, killing everyone and everything she came across, and ended up dropping everything she owned and walking into a radioactive crater to die. That's what I love about RPGs, immersing yourself in a character and being in their world the way they would be, making the choices they would make, and suffering the consequences along with them. And then doing it again as a different person, to find out what they would do, and again, and again. I still miss Teal Sutton, and I wish things hadn't turned out the way they did, but I can cherish the memories of our journey together.

The thing is, I know Frakes couldn't have been cool. Oh, sure, he might have had potential, but it all went down the drain the minute he picked up that trombone. See, as a fellow trombone player, I know that we trombonists are hawesome, but we were band geeks even to the other band geeks. I'm still a little pissed at the band teacher who, when I told him I wanted to play trumpet, said my teeth were too big and I should play trombone instead. Little did I know that it eliminated any chance I'd have to snag a date with a hot flute player. (For a while anyway. Ended up marrying a hot flute player.) So no, I don't believe you when you say he used to be cool. Except to the kindergarteners, who could never figure out how we swallowed all that tubing. To them, we were gods.

It's always great to hear from old friends. Or so I've heard, from people who have them.

Given that your narrative non-fiction is a lot more interesting and better written than most of the fiction out there, I'm happy whichever you're writing.