The rules were simple. When you had the frisbee, you couldn't move. You could only do so after you had thrown it at at one of your friends, who were jumping around and taunting you. Ideally, the frisbee would be caught by one of them. With his face. (Just kidding.) He was then out. If someone actually caught your thrown frisbee with his hands, you were out instead.
If life was literally a cartoon, there are some folks and things in this world I'd like to play a modified version of this terrific adolescent game with. I'd like to tie them up and glue them to the ground so that they couldn't move, and then lob frisbees at them until they're clobbered silly. This blog only exists because I cannot possibly enact that sordid fantasy of mine. While typing my thoughts out certainly is cathartic for me, I do hope you enjoy yourself while you're here too. Cheers.
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