The Carl

Why Carl Approves Names

2008-11-26T14:00:00.000-08:00

Those who are interested in knowing the way of the Carl may wonder why the Carl offers a list of approved names throughout its hallowed site. Though your incapacity to comprehend the Carl is tiresome and lowers our estimation of you severely, we will lower ourselves to explaining the reasons behind our teachings.

While the Carl disapproves of procreation on principle (hence the emphasis on yaks and dolyaks in its adult entertainment material - there's little danger of impregnation in such assignations), it does recognize that not all are as enlightened as the Carl when it comes to the production of offspring. If you must engage in the creation of lesser beings, the least you can do is dub them with a Carl-worthy sobriquet.

Since you are clearly a heathen in the ways of the Carl, we seek to educate you in names which are worthy of a nod of approval from the metaphorical head of the Carl. However, since you may not possess the Carlness to intuit the way of Carl naming, we will educate you more explicitly. There's no need to thank us for our divine intervention. Seeing the next generation of snot-nosed brats grow up with Carl-worthy names will be a sufficient expression of your gratitude.

Rule 1: Blorf must be part of every name.

While it is unlikely in the extreme that your children will be worthy of having Blorf as a first name, you must include that name somewhere in your progeny's name. You can give it a middle name or several middle names and place Blorf amongst those names. If you already have a child and have not named it with Blorf in any way, you may nickname or legally rename your child with Blorf. This will increase your Carl credibility greatly.

Rule 2: You should try to incorporate a descriptive name.

Good examples of this are "Hogun the Unpredictable" or "Pehnsed the Loudmouth." If you are a filthy monkey, you might name your child something like "Griddletoe the Feces Thrower" (full name "Griddletoe Blorf the Feces Thrower". If you are a practitioner of the rhythm method, you could name your child "Blunder (Blorf) the Accident" (Blunderblorf is a righteous name by itself, of course). Of course, if you are a practitioner of the rhythem method, then you should rename yourself "Ding (Blorf) the Imbecile".

Rule 3: You should try to use funny sounds in the name so that other people might amuse themselves by saying the name.

Words that end in "k", "i", "y", or "g" and start with "do" and "bl" have the greatest potential to amuse. A good example of this is "Mok Waagwaag". Words that bring to mind more entertaining words are also desirable. These include "scutum" and "spetum." While naming your child "Blikk Blorf Scutum" may get him kicked in the 'scutum', his sacrifice will be worth the hours of entertainment you'll receive from saying each and every part of his name.

Rule 4: Bodily fluids and processes, amusing objects or amusing word plays are desirable incorporation.

Bear in mind that "amusing word plays" do not include pathetic puns. "Molotov Rocktail" is good. "Sir Dancelot" and "Boner Pimpson" are bad. "Flek Grokspit" is good. "Pooby Brownfoot" is also good. The important thing is to carry the suggestion of the concept you want to get across, but to not be too obvious about it.

The Carl looks forward to hearing the names of your vile spawn or your efforts to rename yourself. You were unworthy of our assistance, but we offer it in our infinite benevolence. You're welcome!

The Cold Carl Trail

2008-11-24T14:16:00.000-08:00

Editor's Note: This transcript was recently delivered to CarlHalla via the time-honored delivery method of brick + note + window = delivered! Unfortunately for some, the brick landed heavily upon Mesmerizing Carl's dainty (and ill-protected) foot, rendering her ability to participate in the Carlish games rather limited. Following her cursing spell, the Carls examined the note, but given their limited capacities of pattern-recognition (particularly with Mesmerizing out of commission), the note was set aside after a series of incoherent grunts and head-scratching. Eventually, Necrotic Carl worked up the wherewithal to transcribe the words for future reference, in case they actually meant something.

[... information evidently continued from a previous page that was not delivered]
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
Byron has some odd way of speaking the words I'm always thinking... at least, words I might be thinking if there were a female anywhere in sight! God I hate this place.

[Day 4 of Carl hunt--4:15pm]
I managed to stalk these "Carls" to what appears to be their base of operations. At least, I assume so--in all honesty, the place feels like a ghost town. I've been scoping the place out for two days now and I've only seen them all together once; most of the time, it's just one person wandering about aimlessly muttering about "damned minkeys" being too difficult to work with. I've dubbed this particular Carl "Moe" due to the frequency of her imprecations against her none-too-frequent companions.

In the little time I've had to sniff about the place, I've detected notes of leather, mold, and an overwhelming stench of monkey feces--it seems the Carls have entertained visitors before. In the time I've spent observing her, "Moe" has rearranged and re-rearranged a collection of small figurines scattered everywhere in the hall. I'm beginning to think she has some sort of compulsion. Out of curiousity, I snatched one of the figures when she wasn't looking, just to see if she'd notice. Not only did she notice, she appeared to be unable to function properly until she discovered where she had stashed it. She tore through her pack like a warrior seeking something to smash, after which she moved on to the seemingly bottomless chest in the corner of the room. Realizing that I'd perhaps awakened something better left alone, I slid the figurine onto the floor below its shelf in order to make her think it had simply fallen. When she noticed where it had ended up, she scooped it back into its proper place, muttering under her breath about "minkeys" again. I'll keep an eye out for these creatures--they sound dangerous.

[Day 6 of Carl hunt--2:14am]
Finally, I have some peace! That miniscule armored beast with a penchant for axe-smashing (henceforth dubbed "Larry" due to the fact that he never really seems to know what's going on) apparently has an affinity for all things alcoholic as well--he has a rather impressive stash of various different grogs in the basement of this hall and he is certainly not afraid to use all of them. That said, he's not the problem; it appears I've encountered the creatures that Moe had rambled on about during previous evenings. Unfortunately, this also led me to discover the apparent source of this place's "homey" aroma. The Minkeys appear to have a somewhat regular tradition of raiding Tankarific's stash during the wee hours, generally after the Carls have wandered off. These ill-mannered simians not only consumed a fair portion of the substantial liquor cabinet, but they also "refreshed" what I had previously took to be markings made in mud on the walls. Imagine my dismay when I learned the truth about this "mud"...

I've finished my inspection of this territory for whatever traps or hazards the Carls may have placed about, and aside from a rather ... unusual waste disposal facility, the place appears to be relatively unguarded--a fact I found remarkable given Moe's evident obsession with her decorative figurines. Nevertheless, this obviously bodes well for my mission... whenever I decide exactly what it is.

[Day 9 of Carl hunt--11:54am]
My "intelligence gathering" has encountered a completely unexpected (and quite bewildering) obstacle in the form of a creature that for the life of me, I simply can't understand. I was creating an inventory of all the figurines scattered about when I sensed that someone was approaching. I barely had time to duck behind one of the mossy pillars supporting the hall's excuse for a ceiling before a ... man, I think, wearing the brightest pants I had ever seen appeared. Trust me in this: my words can never even come close to describing just how ostentatious his outfit was. This is due in part to the fact that I couldn't look directly at him (for fear of being blinded, both from the light and from horror), but more so to the fact that there are no words for this ... thing. As he entered, fireworks started going off throughout the hall, and it took a supreme act of will to keep my feline instincts suppressed enough to sit still, lest I be seen. Although to be honest, I doubt my emergence would've made the slightest difference to him; he appeared to pay no heed to anything at all, running about in circles and dropping snowmen behind. To him, I doubt I would've even registered as a novelty, which is largely what I find so inexplicable. At least with the previous two humans, I could sense their overall demeanor: Larry, like any other warrior, can't think beyond the point of his axe, and sees no need to change that; Moe, on the other hand, seemed driven to seek out the most efficient means to whatever end she had at the time, and most of those ends would've led through me. "Curly" (as I've dubbed ... him), however, didn't appear to have any motive for anything. His mindless wanton exuberance left me reeling--in fact, I believe I passed out briefly, and emerged dumber from the encounter. Thankfully, by the time I came to, he had moved on (hopefully to visit those Minkeys; *that* would be an encounter for the ages!), leaving me time to gather what few thoughts I had remaining to me. I'd never encountered a being with such ability to completely obliterate rational thought from himself and all of his surroundings... let us hope I don't encounter him again.

After my mind had cleared, I hastily sketched this portrait of what I experienced. I no longer know how accurate it is.

It seems these Carls could potentially put up more of a fight than I had anticipated, however inadvertent their efforts may be.

[Day 13 of Carl 'hunt'--1:11pm]
Tonight I decided to conduct an experiment and observe these Carls in their natural habitat. After all, thus far I'd only seen them being drunk, acting drunk, and obsessing over minutiae in the protection of their own home. As a result, I packed myself a ration kit from my remaining vending machine spoils and sauntered off after them (at a safe distance, of course) on a trip into a horrible region with water that appeared to be made of stone.

Proper food for any Charr-on-the-go.

Larry appeared to be particularly excited about this foray, as it allowed him the opportunity to bring a small turtle that fired ping-pong balls at his enemies. Although the creature's attack didn't noticeably impair his enemies' abilities, his master derived great joy in the form of drunken giggling fits every time he glanced down and remembered that it was there.

[Day 14 of Carl 'hunt'--9:24am]
Scent carries forever in this lifeless ocean, and yet with all this expanse, the only other Charr I've managed to catch wind of is that vile traitor that follows the armored one around like a pathetic lapdog. I can see why he had to leave his own people, of course: he makes very poor combat decisions, drawing enemies near when his packmates are obviously recouping after a recent fight. After his targets have drawn closer, he runs like a cowardly human with his tail tucked between his legs until all the fire has been drawn to his compatriots, at which time he hails arrows down upon their heads (with no regard for friends or foes) at the rate of approximately one arrow per hour. Just for the hell of it, I decided to throw some of my own arrows into the fray, as my stalking was growing tiresome. As a test of this poor outcast's ineptitude, I decided to see if I could fire an arrow, have a snack, and fire another arrow all in the time it took him to finish applying poison to his quiver.

My last Kit-Kat meets a worthy demise.

I actually managed to finish the entire bar before he had finished firing a single arrow. I'm not entirely sure why the humans keep him around, but Larry appears to dote on him like a den mother, praising his durability all the while ignoring the fact that his cowardice is a direct cause of said longevity.

[Day 16 of Carl 'hunt'--4:03pm]
Several days of observing these creatures in action have dulled my lust for revenge after what they did to my "friends". In fact, my smoldering disdain for them has given way at least in part to a sad sense of pity, at least for Moe. Despite her obvious addiction to miniatures, she appears to be the only competent being of the three. In the instances where the party is divided (which happens far too frequently, mostly due to Curly's unpredictable whims), Larry and Curly inevitably end up dashing about in endless circles; they obviously think they're going somewhere, but neither appears to be able to read a map, so they just continue wandering, oblivious to their surroundings. The drunken one at least has an excuse--after all, that dwarven ale packs quite a kick, and he never seems to put it down--but the other... well, he's simply an idiot. Or an idiot with a death wish. Or a remarkable savant at emulating the actions of an idiot with a death wish. Regardless, I have estimated that the party would've accomplished their goal 90000% faster without his influence. He reminds me Lumpy, in a way, but with less fur (at least prior to the flea egg incident). And, of course, uglier.

[Day 20 of Carl 'hunt'--12:34pm]
It appears the Carls' quest has reached an impasse; they have been instructed to deliver a box from one village into the hands of a grateful recipient across this ocean. In and of itself, this would seem to be a simple task. Any who would expect this to be so for the Carls, however, has never encountered Curly. Showing no regard for the task at hand, as soon as the box was in sight, he snatched it away from his leader and proceeded to begin opening it in hopes of discovering ... well, I don't know what he was looking for. Something shiny, I imagine. Moe, in a vain attempt to get the party back on track, tried to take the package back, resulting in a pathetic tug-of-war over something that was probably worthless to all involved.

Not actual photo of the struggle.

This process lasted for the better part of an hour, at which point the miniature turtle vomited forth another ping-pong ball, which distracted Curly long enough for Moe to secure the cargo once again. Larry remained oblivious to all around him as he gulped down another tankard and waved his axe about menacingly at the rocky waves (coming dangerously close to decapitating Curly, I might add--I'm not entirely sure he would've regretted it if he had). At this point, I decided that I had little else to gain from further observation, and as my supplies were running low anyway, it seemed a good time to return to the hall and consider my next move. Just for fun, I fired a few arrows into a pack of irukandji that were drifting nearby (surprising the Charr with the Carls, who was about to do the same thing) and began to make the journey back. I do not know that this experience has clarified my future plans regarding the Carls at all; however, I do know I can't handle any more insanity for the time being. Perhaps next time I follow them, I'll wait until Moe is going out alone. She seems to be the most tolerable of the bunch. Plus, she doesn't appear to be as modest when picking out her clothes...

Luxon Terrorists Kidnap Kurzick Monk

2008-10-13T15:14:00.000-07:00

Research and Development has recently come out with a new method of luring players to the Luxon Armada.

On a recent foray through the Jade Sea, Zenox Aroya opened a Luxon chest and found to his surprise that it contained not treasure but a fully qualified healing monk. He was naturally surprised and extremely pleased with his luck.

The monk, one Nadezhda Gavrila, told him a tale of being kidnapped by barbaric Luxon’s and locked into a chest to be forced to serve the one who opened the chest. Apparently, the Luxon Armada hoped that they would be able to increase their own strength by kidnapping Kurzicks and forcing them to serve their enemies. This dastardly plan was thwarted, however, in this instance at least as Zenox was a Kurzick infiltrator in the Jade Sea and immediately set Nadezdha free.

We would ask that any Kurzicks infiltrating Luxon territory open all chests that they find in the hopes that any of our comrades that fall into enemy hands are released as Nadezhda was.

We bid farewell to Mr. Freezie

2008-08-29T00:35:00.000-07:00

The coroner's office after a short and utterly slip-shod investigation has declared that Mr. Freezie, missing now for nearly a week, has likely perished in some sort of freak accident. During a brief interview, in which the coroner's office was curiously heavily stockpiled with Dwarven Ale, corn, Kit-kats, and yak porn, the coroner told this news agency that he was closing the case so Freezie's grieving family and friends could move on with their lives. When asked if the coroner might be under any pressure or influence from external forces to close the case prematurely, the coroner looked around nervously at the booty surrounding him and said, "of course not."

Mr. Freezie was known as a happy-go-lucky fellow who did his best to add a little child-like whimsy to the lives of those around him. In his youth, he worked in the snowball factories of the Northern Shiverpeaks making ammunition for the inhabitants of the Secret Lair of the Snowmen to assist them in defending their territory against "heroes" attempting to infiltrate their home and rob it of vital Dwarven ale, candy canes, yuletide tonics, and insidious snowman summoners.

The deceased, seen here playfully teabagging a friend as his fiancee looks on. (file photo)

As he grew older, the socially conscious ice man decided his conscience would no longer allow him to make weapons of war and mayhem so he opened up a kiosk in Lion's Arch and sold snowballs to children so they might playfully pelt visiting heroes during Wintersday festivals. During the off-season, he made a living selling ice to local purveyors of drink and food.

It was at his kiosk that he met his future fiancée, Mesmerizing Carl. He told those close to him that he couldn't help but fall for her as she was the only creature he'd ever met who had a heart colder than his. Snowmen pals of Mr. Freezie said that he remarked that he knew it was true love when Mesmerizing delivered a fresh carrot to his kiosk each week to replace his wilting nose. In the wake of his passing, his grieving fiancee said, "Mr. Who? What are you on about? I've already forgotten about him."

Friends and family will remember him for his always smiling face, dashing top hat, and playful demeanor. Memorial services will be held at Carlhalla later this week. All comers are welcome to attend and kindly asked to bring a donation of corn, yak porn, Kit-kats, or dwarven ale to honor Mr. Freezie as the CARL guild is curiously short on such necessities at the moment. Plenty of ice will be on hand for those who bring warm beverages.

Mesmerizing Gets Engaged

2008-08-27T19:00:00.000-07:00

Meeting the fiancé.

Love seems to be in the air as of late for the Carls. After I posted my recent breaking of a heart, Mesmerizing announced that she has decided to tether herself permanently to her new beau, a grinning jack ass who is the only creature almost as cold and icy as Mesmerizing herself.

I've never cared for her hulking friend, and I care even less for a permanent attachment between he and Mesmerizing. When she announced their upcoming nuptials, there was much nattering on about finding a nice igloo in the north and settling down to raise a bunch of tiny ice children. I'm pretty sure that the only reason these two ended up together is that he's the only one that will tolerate her Hummel figurines and she's the only one who finds painfully cold creatures attractive. I don't even want to know about their sex life, or how they're planning on arranging conception.

The big problem isn't their disturbing lifestyle, but rather the fact that I can't allow that big collection of icicles to take Mesmerizing out of the game. She not only has all our useful collectible items in storage (and we can't let her walk away with the bulk of our collective wealth), but she's the only one who knows her way around. Without her, we'd be running in even more circles than usual.

Sneaking away for our "bachelor party."

That last straw was when she declared that she would be redecorating Carlhalla so that her future husband would be comfortable in it. While she plans on living "la vida domestica" (I practially threw up when she said that) at their temple of ice cubes, she does expect to pop by the Guild Hall on occasion to show us boring pictures of their honeymoon and any little icelings they spawn.

After hearing that she was going to lower the temperature by about 70 degrees in the hall (which will destroy our custom-made toilet by changing it from a pit of lava to a pit of volcanic rock) and change the decor to "early Eskimo", I decided to take action to stop this relationship in its tracks. I sent Mesmerizing out for champagne to celebrate and while I had the ice man alone for a second, I suggested we have a bachelor party the likes of which Mesmerizing would never approve of. I told him that we'd make sure she got good and ripped on high-priced booze, then sneak away for some ale and whore action.

I must say that I felt a lot less guilty about what I was planning when he looked at me with that idiotic grin and nodded his snowball head "yes". After all, if he's cheating on Mesmerizing with paid trollops, how devoted can he be?

Problem solved.

I gathered up a few of "the guys" who could be trusted to keep their mouths shut if I paid them to do so (Olias, Pyre, Zhed) and we headed out of town for our "bachelor party". While Frosty the Snow Fiancé turned around and said, "where's the party," we let him have it right in the popsicle.

I'm sure Mesmerizing will forget him soon enough. After all, she's more interested in her mini pets and knick-knacks than romance. I'll buy her a mini Freezie and she'll find him more than a sufficient substitute for her former fiancé.

As for the disposal of the remains of said former fiancé, let's just say that none of the drinks at Carlhalla will be going warm for a long, long time.

Names Awarded the Carl Seal of Approval #10

2008-08-23T14:00:00.000-07:00

Roarst One Eye

(We stole his Kit-Kat.)

A Man Gets Lonely

2008-08-20T17:30:00.000-07:00

A man gets lonely while he's out and about on the questing trail. Sure, there are other heroes traveling along for the ride...a bossy and impatient mesmer, a crazy necro, and a crop of hired lackeys. They're no sort of companions when a man needs a special kind of comfort.

Most of the time, a man can wear himself out smashing things with axe to dull the gnawing hunger for intimacy. When that fails, or there's nothing left to smash with axe, there's always the cold comfort of the bottle. People think a man gets falling down drunk all the time for the simple joy of inebriation. Well, they'd be right, but there are also those times when sorrows need to be drowned in dwarven ale.

Just when you think you can't take the loneliness anymore, you wander across a special someone. Tentatively, you approach, hopes high that she'll sense the chemistry as well. It's not just the sight of her, it's also the sweet musk of her scent. It's a sort of intoxication that you can't get from mere alcohol.

Of course, a really special companion doesn't give herself over easily. There is a subtle and coy exchange of looks. There has to be a recognition of a true connection between you before baser urges are acted upon.

When that magic moment comes, and that come-hither look is directed your way, you know that your loneliness is about to end. When it's all over, you need a cigarette, and to high tail it out of there before day-break when she wakes up.

After you score and make a clean getaway, you party Carl style. After all, there are plenty of yaks in the bend to comfort you the next time you get lonely.

The Ruination of the Flame Temple

2008-08-18T15:15:00.000-07:00

Editor's Note: This transcript was recently delivered to CarlHalla via an arrow shot through our stained glass portrait of Prince. It is evidently in response to a recent vanquish in which the Carls stormed the Charr's beloved Flame Temple. During said foray, the Carls destroyed all cat-related bests discovered therein with scathing verbal taunts and imprecations against the Charrs' respective mothers. While the party was frequently sent packing (leaving trails of shame and urine in their wake), they eventually emerged triumphant. ... Or so they thought. This column was evidently sent by a survivor--one who didn't take kindly to the Carls' interruption of his daily activities.

Pages originally torn from Gulbozz "Snuggles" Nastywhisker's personal journal, as transcribed by Necrotic Carl.

...hate that guy so much. He thought that damn nickname was so clever; now everyone in the Temple is calling me 'Snuggles'! Every single day I think about shoving an arrow into the back of his skull... no one would even notice it was me; they'd just blame it on one of those damn rangers that seem to have the range of a small cannon. One of these days, I swear I'm going to do it. Even the shamans that coward always hangs out with won't be able to bring him back then...

[Day 4 of temple guard duty--8:43am]
I can't believe it's only been four days since I was sent to this worthless excuse for guard duty. We're not even really guarding anything; we haven't heard reports of any of those Ascalonian "heroes" for weeks, and yet here I am, standing watch over this pile of dirt we've crowned as holy. Stupid shamans. I bet they just named this a temple to see how long they could get us to stand guard over it before we finally got tired of the game and went back home. They probably have a royal outhouse at the top of this thing.

[Day 6 of 'temple' guard duty--3:42pm]
That idiot in charge of us just called me "Snuggles" again and fell over himself in a fit of hysterical giggles at his own cleverness. Yeah, way to go buddy--oh, wait, your actual name is Lumps Ruinator! What the hell were your parents thinking, dumbass? ... I totally should've said that to him. I'll note it down for next time, in case I forget. Hate that guy.

On an unrelated note, I saw what looked like gigantic three-headed squirrels prowling about the perimeter today. Here's hoping they find Lumps and "Ruinate" his business.

[Day 9 of 'temple' guard duty--11:34am]
A little over a week out here now, and I can hardly tell; every day is exactly the same. Seeing as how this stint comes straight on the heels of my last deployment to the north, it's been months since I've seen a female of any species, let alone a feline one. I gotta admit, after a while in the field, some of these guys get pretty desperate; I think I saw one of my fellow rangers getting awfully frisky with those gargoyles yesterday. Poor bastard... I don't even want to know how long he's been away from home; all's I know is that won't be turning my back on him, if you know what I mean. At what point in history did our priests sit down and decide that women don't belong in the field? Did our religion develop overnight at a gay slumber party? How can these idiots not see the distraction this can eventually cause? Hell, even those human vermin allow their females to fight alongside them--and in armor that amounts to little more than gauze and floss, at that! I think the other day I saw this little tiny creature running around the outskirts of the temple in nothing but underwear and tattoos! She *must* have divine protection, not to mention some bitchin' sunblock.

Speaking of lotion, the other day I found Lumps' shampoo and mixed some flea eggs I got from eBay into it; no signs of hatching yet, but the next week or so should be interesting. Thank god we can still get mail out here--although oddly enough, the only porn you can get is dolyak stuff, and that's not quite to my tastes. Still, they start to look nice after a while...

[Day 14 of 'temple' guard duty--10:15am]
If I ever catch the rat-bastard who told Lumpy that I was responsible for the shampoo prank, he'll have a fresh arrow hole where his brain used to be. The day after the outbreak started, I found myself "reassigned" to this desolate patch of the Diessa Lowlands at the entrance to the temple. This, of course, means I only get to socialize with the axe-wielder troglodytes that we basically plant here as mindless roadblocks to prevent stupid humans from waltzing on in. Officially, I am to watch out and hail arrows upon unsuspecting travelers, but everyone knows I've been placed here as punishment for teaching that moron a lesson. Heh. Those fleas were awesome though; they had to shave the poor bastard to clean him up, and he was covered with bites. Seeing him blush in embarrassment around the welts almost makes it all worth it.

Artist's rendering of Lumpy's new look

[Day 16 of 'temple' entrance guard duty--12:45pm]
This morning I attempted to have a conversation with the mongoloids accompanying me in this waste of a guard duty cycle--big mistake. Attempting to decipher their grunts (emitted whilst spewing forth clouds of crumbs--we were eating breakfast) was a singularly frustrating task that I eventually gave up to focus on watching the dust blow about the entrance to the corridor. After a while, the dust actually starts to look like humans sneaking upon us, but I generally attribute that to boredom. After my fruitless attempt at banter with the moron twins, I had to get myself a snack from the vending machine (thank GOD they let us have that out here; otherwise we'd be forced to subsist on army rations). The fact that a candy bar costs over 2 platinum out here seems a bit excessive, but after a few weeks, it becomes more reasonable. Besides, what good is the money going to do me out here?

Ah, Kit-Kats, my only friend. I can't count the number of afternoons I've sat out here humming that song to myself for hours on end. I asked the axe twins if they remembered the song from our younger days and they presented me with looks as blank as their minds. Warriors, I've learned, don't retain information longer than the few seconds it takes their brains to reprocess what they've heard into one of two things: "Smash with axe!" or "Why no smash with axe?" After several fruitless attempts ("Gimme a break! Giiiiiimme a break. Break me off a piece of that Kit-Kat bar!" No? Nothing? Screw you guys.), I turned about to enjoy my candy goodness in peace.

Image reproduced by CarlHalla staff

I managed to eat about half of it (I always save the last two bars for later) when suddenly I felt a series of overwhelming sensations; I could feel my body's vitality slowly draining and the smashy twins started roaring incoherent ramblings towards the entrance. I somehow couldn't bring myself to care about them (my spirit felt... something... not wrathful or vengeful... but something like that. It's hard to describe.), but I suddenly realized that a small group of human vermin had dared attack us! And in the middle of my break, no less! The last thing I remember was firing a series of exploding arrows towards a particularly scantily-clad female in a mask, and slowly falling to the ground. A tiny man was hurtling towards my cohorts screaming "Tankarific smash with axe!"; I guess some things are universal.

[Day 18 of 'temple' guard duty--17:57pm]
It's a peculiar feeling being the only creature alive in an entire region. My own feelings regarding my surroundings (as well as those who inhabited them) are obviously well-known and oft-lamented, but even I could never envision this. It's been two days, and still, I'm the only thing that dares move in this wretched place. On the bright side, I broke open the vending machine and took all the candy I could cram down my gullet, but even the joy that Kit-Kats once brought to my heart was eclipsed by the burning desire to track down those who were responsible for the destruction of all that I once despised. After I finish looting the corpses (and urinating on Lumps' now-smoking remains), I plan to set off on the trail of those who brought this down upon me. I may kill them--after all, it is my duty. I may thank them--because hey, I hated that guy. But one way or another, the hunt is on.

Wearing Out Our Sharon

2008-07-09T16:58:00.000-07:00

It has come to the attention of the Carls that the filthy minkeys have been overusing our Sharon. Now, we can understand the urge to use our Sharon because she's one of the few players who knows what she's doing most of the time. In fact, one of the wags in our alliance once referred to her as "CarlWiki" because she seems to have the answers to all questions. However, we must protest this over-use of our Sharon.

The situation in which we are finding ourselves (that is, us, the glorious Carl) is that, by the time Shawn and I log in and are ready to have ourselves some Carlish fun, Sharon has already been played with for 2-3 hours. Often, she has been consorting with monkeys during long and difficult missions. By the time you are finished with her, she's in a ragged and almost spent state. Her batteries are practically drained and she's dirty and disheveled. Frankly, we're too impatient to put her in the recharger and too lazy to tidy her up so we'd just rather you stopped using her before we get a chance to do so. If you can't play gently with her and return her to us in her original state, you can't play with her before us. You can have her when we're done. She was ours first, after all.

In conclusion, I must impress on you filthy minkeys that, as Shawn stated in the preceding post, Sharon is a vital cog in the Carl machine. Without her, we are an imbalanced entity and have no idea how to complete quests or find our way around the game. In fact, you'd be surprised at how hopeless Shawn and I are at accomplishing anything without her presence. Okay, so you wouldn't be surprised. My point is that she's ours and you can't have her so stop "borrowing" her and wearing her out. It's our job to tax her patience and fatigue her and it's a responsibility we enjoy. It's pretty much the only responsibility we enjoy.

(Note: In case there are any humor-impaired minkeys out there, I'll say that my tongue is in my cheek. That may actually arouse some of you perverse monkeys, but trust me that it has to do with indicating this post is not to be taken seriously and not some disgusting monkey sex thing.)

Musings on the Carl

2008-07-07T16:31:00.000-07:00

Rejoice, my ravenous fans, for I am return-ed to these hallowed pages and I bring with me enlightenment for those legions of Carl supporters who have clamored for a deeper explanation of all things Carl. I should mention at this point that this post will not contain your usual allotment of screenshots of the Carls caught in action; instead, I plan to cover this screen with nothing more than words, most of which will be of the five-dollar variety, as I don't usually bother to carry larger denominations. Indeed, I am here today to shower you all with my own brand of understanding (as well as a substantial dose of verbiage), a process that may also answer the number one question most frequently asked of the Carls when they are discovered: How do I know if I am a Carl? (I say 'may', of course, because I haven't thought that far ahead and could care less anyway).

The roots of the Carl have been well-documented already in Shari's earlier post, and I dare not attempt to improve upon it. Any who find her explanation to be lacking in appropriate details will find my own attempts far far worse, and probably less coherent. That said, it should be understood that the Carl is far greater than this single instance; while AngelKitty's momentous (and, for Battle.net, surprisingly well-formatted) chatter spawned the current incarnation of the Carl that we all know and love, this did not, in fact, create the Carl. The Carl was there, waiting for us to discover it, and it transcends any one person, game, world, or run-on sentence. The first step one must make in their Carl understanding is simply to accept that this understanding will not--nay, cannot!--come. Only by no longer attempting to understand it can the Carl's nature even begin to be grasped.

I have never been documented claiming to understand the Carl; indeed, I have rarely been documented expressing any coherent thought at all. However, I find myself in a unique position in that that very lack of understanding is what makes this explanation possible. Perhaps this is simply because few things about the Carl make any form of logical sense, as is shown in how it manifests itself in its practitioners. In my case, the Carl obviously exhibits a disdain for all things straightforward and serious, much to Sharon's chagrin when facing the tide of red dots that I am driven to rile up. Sharon, on the other hand, displays the very opposite Carlish effect: her attention to detail balances my complete lack of attention at all. This is not to say that her Carl is weaker than my Carl (her lavishing of attention upon filthy simians aside), as it simply makes itself known in different ways. Perhaps this delicate balance should shed some light on the Carl's inner workings. Between Sharon's fastidiousness and my own lack of any -idiousness whatsoever, we guarantee that neither portion of the Carl's will is ever truly more powerful than the other. Just as I fulfill the Carl's demands by wandering off aimlessly, so too does she eventually ensure that we get where we're going, and both parties have a richer experience as a result.

My more attentive readers have no doubt noticed that I have omitted the third party that makes up the trio of Carl representatives dispatched to Arena.net thus far in my explanation. Rest assured that this is not implying that she is a lesser carrier of the Carl than either Sharon or myself; on the contrary, Shari is a peculiar example of what I have tentatively termed a "Self-Balancing Carl"(TM). This rare instance of inherent Carl balance allows Shari to display the Carlish attributes of both her comrades while still avoiding the greater extremes to which the other Carls have been known to visit. As may be surmised, this allows her to get along passably well with both Sharon's driven nature as well as my own driven insanity. With her influence, Sharon and I manage to avoid a veritable clash of the Carl extremes every time we are in the same district. How does she do this? I certainly am not the right one to ask; perhaps it's due to the stabilizing influence of her rarely-mentioned fellow Carl who has thus far not been allowed onto Anet's demesne, or perhaps she's simply had years of extended Carl development that I lack the attention span for. Whatever the cause, she stands as the epitome of a Carl that has adapted to operate within the realms of sanity and normal society.

I realize that this treatise may come across as favoring one aspect of the Carl over another, but please, dear reader, believe me when I say that the Carl does not play favorites. Except with Blorf, whose name is so insanely awesome that he is now and will forever be the Carl's favorite weird gremlin thing. And yes, I know the question remains unanswered, but if you've made it this far in the article and still even care about the answer, your Carl needs a serious tune-up. A hearty regimen of reading the Carl archives is strongly recommended.

Profiles - Healing Carl

2008-06-16T19:18:00.001-07:00

Name: Healing Carl
Height: Tiny. Very tiny.
Armor: Varies, but usually she wears the nice set the Dwarves made for her, dyed a nice pink.
Hairstyle: coiled buns.
Dependents: Many mini pets, the rest of the Carls.

Turn-ons: Cathedral of Flame runs. Where she doesn't have to do anything. Getting lost. Masters on missions.

Turn-offs: excessive chatting during missions and quests. Someone in the party dieing. Warriors who run too fast.

Usually seen in the company of: filthy Minkeys.

Notable quotes:
"Shawn, where are you going?"
"I need running shoes."
"I'm lost."
"I'm confused."

She who helms this avatar: Sharon

New Signal Signifies Need for The Carl

2008-06-16T18:00:00.000-07:00

Where is the Carl?

In a clear indication of just how greatly the denizens of Arena.net need the Carl, a new Carl signal in a shape reminiscent of design of the Carl Guild's cape was installed this past week. When a desperate need for the Carl arises, the signal is lit and a giant Carl signal is projected into the sky. Construction of a "Carlmobile" which can travel at top speeds and shoot lethal corn kernels or expel noxious fumes (only functional when an elf is on-board) is also planned once a body in the shape of a large piece of candy corn can be acquired.

It is expected that the signal will be used in the following circumstances in which the Carl's presence would be invaluable:

Endangered corn.
Excess efficiency or seriousness while questing needs defusing.
An urgent need for yak or dolyak porn.
Nipple-dying is desired.
Wombats need stuffing.
Filthy minkeys need putting in their place.
Pants need fancying.
Mini pets need walking.
Toes need twinkling.
Fireworks displays are required.
Incoherence is wished for.
Excess sanity needs diffusing.
Free booze needs removal.
Pelvis-thrusting dance-work (whether desired or not).

During the first use of the signal, the Carl mobilized within seconds and struck out from Carlhalla to respond to the emergency. Several hours later, the signalers were still standing on the signal platform waiting for their saviors. CARL" doesn't stand for "Confused And Ridiculously Lost" for nothing.

Names Awarded the Carl Seal of Approval #9

2008-06-16T01:58:00.001-07:00

Mok Waagwaag

Death By Christmas Tree Branch

2008-06-16T01:14:00.000-07:00

Who knew that vigorously thrusting a branch with lights glued on the end could be so deadly.

Some of the Carl clan gets out less often than others. Tankarific is the social gadfly who goes everywhere and does everything. He is the favored child of his mistress. From his stern little face with knitted brows to his metal loincloth to his boozy breath, he's his mommy's favorite little avatar. That doesn't mean that there aren't other children in this happy family. Above you see Tankarific's little brother, Smiting Carl. You can see the family resemblance in the muscular tanned physiques and blond top-knot styles they share.

Smiting takes his brother's ugly dog out for walkies.

While Tankarific is the conventional sort who smashes with axe and gets smashed (in more ways than one), Smiting has the self-esteem to forge his own path. Unlike the more perverse characters who display their individuality by dying their nipples purple, Smiting shows his stuff by choosing one of the least popular skill sets. While other pathetic, neurotic, needy monks chase after fighting types and magic types and heal them in hopes of winning their approval, Smiting responds to requests for healing with a hearty, "screw you guys." Smiting takes care of Smiting.

Don't let those sunny yellow overalls and hippie shoes mislead you, this Carl is one tough boy. He can mash your corn with a stern look and a shake of his branch. Better bring some self-heal if you plan on partying with this Carl. Oh, yeah.

Profiles - Tankarific Carl

2008-06-15T03:30:00.000-07:00

The Carl presents you with a new feature. Well, it's a feature that may only have one installment if my slack-tacular fellow Carls don't follow my lead. The purpose of this is to help all our fanbois and fangrrls (it hurt me as much as it hurt you to write those words, possibly more) know the personalities, fetishes, and likely odors of the Carl characters.

We begin with the best of all Carl characters. Tankarific Carl.

Name: Tankarific Carl (duh!)
Height: on the shrimpy side, but what business is it of yours?
Armor: scrap metal, dyed orange
Hairstyle: blond sumo wrestler (chon-mage)
Dependents: one very ugly dog, a ping-pong ball popping turtle, a phoenix, and Shawn

Turn-ons: booze, corn, enemies with funny names, smashing things with an axe, free booze, getting lost, getting drunk, falling down, dancing, clapping his hands with excitement at the prospect of booze, making fun of filthy minkeys, cavorting about the guild hall, vanquishing

Turn-offs: 12-step programs, taking things seriously, farming for stuff, paying attention, sissies who fight with swords, following maps, dirt napping, stinky elves

Usually seen in the company of: Mesmerizing Carl, Jin, Olias, Tahlkora, Koss, Pyre, and hordes of fighting jerky

Notable quotes:
"Tankarific smash with axe?",
"I'm Tankarific."
"Looney."
"I'm lost."
"I'm confused."
"We're Carl."

She who helms this avatar: Shari

Suicidal Monk

2008-06-13T12:54:00.000-07:00

Late last night an incident occurred involving MnKy Nadezhda Gavrila. The diminutive monk was trying to max her delver title on a paid Cathedral of Flames run.

Appalled by the intransigence of pugs, she had a psychotic episode and committed suicide. Sources say that the pugs would not stay behind the smiter, Nadezhda, and she became irate. Near the end of the run she was unable to cope anymore and flung herself bodily into a lake of lava.

Funeral services for the deceased monk have not yet been set. Those wishing to pay their respects should contact a MnKy for further information.

Carl Math

2008-05-16T22:00:00.000-07:00

All work and little play makes Shari a dull Carl. I'm sure our legion of ardent admirers have noticed that I didn't manage to post last month and this is my first post this month. For about three months from late spring to early summer, this Carl has a pile of extra work. This results in several mathematical equations of relevance:

(A Carl) + (extra work) = (more money)

Unfortunately, it also brings this equation into play:

(A Carl) + (extra work) = (diminished Carl)

Now, here's a little test for you. If the following two equations are true (and they are, trust me, I know), is the following also true:

"Having more money diminishes the Carl."

If you believed the above statement was true, the you not only fail the Carl math exam, but you also fail basic logic. The Carl does like it when logic fails. In fact, the Carl would prefer that all logic be tossed out the nearest open window (or airlock, if you are an alien reader on its mothership or an astronaut on an orbiting space station reading this post). It's not the extra money that causes the Carlish energies to diminish, but rather the lack of time spent in Carlish pursuits.

I want to reassure our cornucopia of fans that the Carl blog is not wilting after an initial burst of activity. Unfortunately, the most prolific of Carls (that's me), is being forced to deal with the unpleasantness of reality rather than basking in the pleasantness of the reality of Carl. When my work is done, you will be well and truly returned to your regular programming of discussions about foul-smelling elves (and their equally stinky masters), corn, and drunkenness.

In the meantime, keep those cards and letters coming, but you filthy minkeys stop throwing feces at our door.

Mysterious Herbs Result in Carl Quarantine

2008-04-23T11:24:00.001-07:00

During a recent foraging expedition to restock the larder of Carls' Kitchen, honorary Carl (and sometimes spy) Ghostly Wombat stumbled across several previously undocumented new species of roughage, which ultimately left CarlHalla designated as "unfit for visitors". This, of course, is vastly different from its usual motto of "Abandon all corn, ye who enter here". This article stands as a public announcement broadcast by the Carl guild as warning to any cooking enthusiasts, lest similar circumstances befall another guild.

Although Melonni obviously knows the fern is poisonous, she knows Carls never learn anything that they don't experience for themselves

Depicted above is the root cause of the problem. When presented with a glowing bush (or indeed, most anything that glows), the natural Carl reaction is "I could make booze out of that!" Consequently, Ghostly Wombat ignored Melonni's evident disdain for the fern and harvested a sample for the Carl distillery. It is a widely-believed fact that Tankarific will drink most anything that makes a sloshing sound when jostled, and she logically concluded that if said substance glowed whilst providing the drunken goodness that he loved so much.

Ignoring Melonni's chuckling in the background, Ghostly enlisted Gwen's help in gathering and transporting the herb back to the kitchen. However, she was soon sidetracked by yet another fascinating bit of herbiage:

Tahlkora gesticulates wildly in an attempt to prevent Ghostly from making a second mistake

Hypnotized by the leafy bush apparently growing out of a dinosaur's foot, Ghostly couldn't help but imagine the possibilities. Dinodrink? Scaly Delight? Gargantuan Grog? The possibilities were endless! Quickly harvesting a bushel of dino-leaves, she scurried back to CarlHalla in hopes of preparing a celebratory drink-fest the likes of which the filthy minkeys would envy for generations.

Despite several setbacks (including a couple small-scale explosions that had Healing Carl beating her senseless for damaging her precious wyvern painting), refreshments were produced, including a delightful salad that combined the products of both bushes. The dinner a success, Ghostly reveled in the guild's compliments. Until, that is, half an hour later, when several Carls begain experiencing minor digestive problems.

Godly Carl lets off some steam

After careful evaluation, the Carls have determined that any documentation of these events must be stricken from the record. On a related note, CarlHalla will be hosting a gathering to which all filthy minkeys are invited. Drinks will be served.

Carl or No?

2008-04-15T17:06:00.000-07:00

Welcome, readers, to another installment of "Carl or No?"! As our longtime readers know, this series presents the viewer with an assortment of images and asks whether the figures depicted are Carls, or simply plebeians who have no place in honest society. Now, without further stalling for time, let's get started!

Contestant 1 enjoys fine dining, long walks on the Jade Sea, and clowns! Let's have a few words.

[Goth/Emo Lovechild]: "Excuse me, I think I'm lost. See, I was heading for a KISS convention and my car broke down. Could you point me to the nearest phone?"

Good stuff, good good stuff. We'll have the audience's verdict at the end of the segment. And now, let's see Contestant 2!

Fancypants?! Wait, you're not Fancypants. Clever disguise though. See me after the show; I have someone I think you should meet.

[Tattooed Man in Girdle]: "Me Carl because me freeze things with eyenipples and smash with axe! ... No have axe now, but show later!"

[Audience]: "oooOOooo!"

My my, looks like Tankarific's got an admirer! Let's hope he doesn't drink, or CarlHalla's supply chain will be overwhelmed! And speaking of supplies, our next contestant is in charge of making sure that the Carls' minipets have a ready stash of pre-sliced kibble to suit any palate!

[Woman with Hair Julienne]: "What can I say? Give me a meat and I'll dice it up. In fact, it doesn't even have to technically be meat; this one time, I sliced--"

Let me just cut you off there, madame; this is a family column, and Diabolical Carl has already described your escapades with him in great detail.

[Julienne]: "Diabolical who now?"

Anyway, our next contestant claims to share a physical attribute with several of the Carls. Let's see if we can guess what it is!

So, would anyone care to take a guess? What Carl attribute is very prominently displayed by contestant 4?

[Audience]: "A face!" "The mask!" "Worms on his chest!" "A penchant for buggery!"

Well now, I'm not sure how that last one qualifies as a physical attribute, but it seems we have several ideas, and so far no winners. We'll announce the answer at the end of the column for you readers out there who can't stand to not know. And that brings us to the next contestant!

[Blue Crab]: "I pinch?" *scuttles around aimlessly*

Whoa, I think we have a dead ringer here! No voting necessary folks; he's obviously a pervert, and obviously lost/drunk/both! If that isn't Carl, I don't know what is! Let's move on.

Ho now, it seems we're in the presence of royalty! This contestant is almost as well-known as Prince Rurik himself for his tendency towards both dying as well as not-surviving! What do you have to say?

[Aggro-drawing Suicidal Masochistic Bastard who charges recklessly into battle every single time you're doing a mission in which he has to survive]: "Shiro must be stopped! Maybe if I dive from this ridiculously high platform into the midst of that deadly battle..."

[Audience]: "Heal him! Have all monks focus on him immediately and never stop!!"

Ha ha! Always the joker. And speaking of jokes, we've reached our final contestant of the day. This character is not likely to be familiar to anyone, and simply had the misfortune of being in the wrong place when our cameraman was calibrating his shot!

This walking wardrobe malfunction apparently got up on the wrong side of bed and just decided to keep facing that way! Perhaps we have a royalty competition with our previous contestant?

[Kamikaze Togo]: "A crown does not royalty make. You have to be willing to throw yourself into any fray, no matter how hopeless!" *triggers group of afflicted pop-ups*

Well said, my frined, well said. And with the main segment of the colum out of the way, let's jump straight to the conclusions. Judges tell us: which ones are Carls?!

[Judges]: "Well, contestant one is obviously out. I mean, goth *and* emo in one package? That's not Carl, that's just freaking annoying. Plus, what's with that little patch of fur on his chin? Either grow a beard or don't! It's not a complicated decision!"

[Lovechild]: "I expected nothing less; this just serves to reinforce my impression that life is a pointless sad descent--"

[Judges]: "Someone drag him out of here. Moving on to contestant 2: this was a much tougher decision. I mean, he has eyes where his freaking nipples should be! That said, after careful analysis, we've concluded that this is not Carl, it is merely a poor attempt to disguise oneself as Carl in order to infiltrate Fancypants' inner sanctum. Everyone knows his penchant for all things nipple-related."

[Eyenipples]: *Attempts to smash the podium with the axe he forgot at home* *Looks confused*.

{Judges]: "Whatever. Go hang out with that Emo guy. With those pretenders cast aside, we can dig into the real meat of the competition. Sickle woman, despite her odd choice of makeup, is definitely a Carl in hiding, attempting to blend in with those who cannot understand her inner Carlness. Hell, she even chose a weapon shaped like a C for Carl, even though this design is obviously detrimental to her doing any real damage in battle. And, of course, this demonstrates her Carlness more clearly than anything, as a Carl is always willing to sacrifice effectiveness for fashion."

[Julienne]: "I thank you for the honor you have bestowed upon me. Now if you'll excuse me, I hear a horde of hungry minipets milling about CarlHalla. Sharon must've signed online."

[Judges]: "Ever dedicated to your work. Go with Carl, fine lady. Now for the man with worms on his chest: while the point on your head speaks for itself, you just don't quite seem to have the Carl 'zest'. Perhaps you come across as too focused? Might I suggest you add some corn to your garment decor and see if it helps your chances for next time?

[PointyHead]: *Hangs pointed head in shame* "I have brought dishonor upon myself and my house. I cannot bear to keep living!" *Charges in to join Togo*

[Judges]: "Iiinteresting... with that reckless maneuver, he might just be Carl material! We'll take that discussion offline for our next show. Now, as the Blue Crab's candidacy has already been established, we move along to that idiot trying to get himself killed in order to ruin our chances at beating this mission. No Carl, end of story. You suck Togo, I hate you, and you can burn in hell with Rurik and those damned ice imps that cast maelstrom whenever I stand still for more than 2 seconds.

"And finally, our crowned candidate of not paying attention... interesting strategy. It is true that a Carl would never be caught paying attention to anything evident, and despite your bad fashion sense, I think the crown works. However! You are docked infinity million points for not facing the camera during the shoot."

Well then, it looks like that sums things up! As always, you may not agree with the judges' decisions, but if nothing else, that simply proves that they're right! And for those of you that think the judges' last comment about the crowned one was contradictory, just remember: a true Carl ALWAYS knows where the camera is!

Better Know the Carls

2008-04-15T14:31:00.001-07:00

As longtime (and most shorttime) disciples of the Carl are well aware, the Carl is nothing if not a study in contrasts. Observers of the witty banter between the Carls and the Filthy Minkeys (TM) may note within moments a multitude of nonsensical statements, most of which conflict with each other. This seeming incongruity is due in part to the very eccentricity of the Carl; making sense has never held any place in the Carl's bylaws, and as such is not attributed the level of respect that is granted to, say, corn, or words that sound awesome.

Our more perceptive readers may have noticed that I said "in part" in the lines above, while those more Carlishly inclined probably lost interest and wandered off in search of something shiny and alcoholic. Regardless, I say this because the Carl's very contrariness to all things normal is also caused in large part by its very internal diversity. See the figure below.

Rurik is obviously disgusted with Tankarific's unwillingness to make others do all his work.

You may notice several layers of contrasts in the preceding image, some evident to all, but some only to those who know where to look. For example, the most obvious difference between the figures represented (Tankarific top, Rurik bottom, Bad Puppy left) is that Tankarific is the embodiment of all things tank: he stoically survives (usually), he's clad head-to-toe in shiny plate, he smash with axe, etc. In contrast, Rurik is the exact opposite: he's whiny (both alive and dead), has obvious gaps in his protective layers, is quite obviously flaming (or at least his sword is, and that's what's important), etc. The Bad Puppy, obviously, needs no description, as his faults were adequately mentioned in a previous post.

Now some may argue that this example deals with only one Carl, and as such, cannot possible encompass all the complexities of a true Carl contradiction. While valid, this complaint assumes that my argument is complete. If that were the case, what would the remainder of this long-winded post contain? Hmm? That's what I thought! That said, see the image below:

Tankarific and Necrotic rarely see eye-to-eye, for various reasons we won't get into.

Yes, it's another Tankarific example, as he is a favorite of our more primitive readers who can empathize with his straightforward manner of dealing with obstacles. Nonetheless, upon comparing the image with the first picture in this post, the most notable difference is the complete darkness in image 2, once Necrotic Carl has entered the picture. Tankarific, the epitome of good, proper (albeit often inebriated) society, has had his light muted by the presence of a more sinister figure. Although Necrotic tries to balance things out with a smashing choice of outfits, his hideous visage (shown in half-profile to protect our more impressionable readers) blocks out any and all light brought about by Tankarific's proximity. Continued evidence of this is provided in Figure 3:

A study in ugly? I hesitate to crown a winner, but the guy on the left looks somewhat like one of the sand people.

My apologies to our readers with delicate sensibilities, but as something of a hack writer, I tend to use shock value to get my point across. The ugliness contained in the image above has not been adequately measured, but top experts have described it as being "as ugly as possible without destroying all that is holy in the world." When asked what would happen if Diabolical Carl were to enter the scene, said experts' eyes widened in alarm before their heads exploded.

Excessive analysis aside, the figure in the foreground of Figure 3 has obviously dealt with Necrotic before, as he has come prepared with a full-face industrial grade gas mask and what appears to be flaming gloves to sterilize anything he touches. Necrotic wisely keeps his distance, contenting himself with leveling a malevolent glare at the oblivious creature. It should be noted that the begasmasked character, while not a Carl, appears to know how to properly deal with them, much as the secondary character in Figure 4:

Godly Carl likes to keep himself surrounded by fine ladies, even if they're colorblind.

Ah, finally we reach another Carl whose very appearance doesn't destroy the equipment with which his image is captured. Yes, we are viewing the (in?)famous Godly Carl, a rare sighting, given his recent reclusiveness. Known for dying frequently and being better at pulling than at tanking, we can see that despite the fact that he wears a dress, he still has time to inspect the wares of the opposite sex. Obviously his good fashion sense has become offended by the lime green abomination standing beside him, but he only has eyes for the necro woman in the tattered skirt. Some men might be concerned by the fact that she is obviously required to cover her face in public, but that is evidently not the area that he's interested in anyway. ... *ahem* but I digress. Our last Carlish example lies below.

Kuunavang feigns disinterest as the ladies inspect the megapet.

We close with two of the Carl ladies, evidently fascinated by one of the rare megapets that can be found sporatically throughout the Jade Sea. Ghostly Carl has a long history of antagonizing such behemoths, but this one has apparently captured her heart and Mesmerizing Carl's mild disinterest. Although these two women are obviously distracted by gigantic adorable animals, don't let their mild exteriors deceive you; Mesmerizing is known for her sharp tongue and rapid pace and Ghostly will promptly get confused and drop an urn of some random person's ashes upon your head before she realizes what's happening.

This concludes this installment of Comparisons in Carl; future installments will include several characters that, while not Carls, have attained the honored rank of "Cheap Imitation Carl" (and no, FancyPants won't be in that one either. You know you're disappointed).

Drunken Debauchery

2008-04-11T22:51:00.000-07:00

Last evening the MnkY Guild Hall was invaded yet again by the alcoholic elf Steve. Not content though to desecrate the home of the buttmonkey alone, Steve brought friends.

Steve and his twin Bob brought their drunken prom dates to the home of the MnkYs to dance the night away in a state of drunken debauchery. Firewater and Creme Brulee were consumed and debris from the party scattered all over the lovely circular center of the home of the monkeys.

There was talk of dancing nude; but, luckily, Steve was persuaded with some difficulty to keep his clothes on as no one wanted to see a portly naked elf. Most were slightly nauseous at the thought.

Bob and his date left early as complaints were made about horny teenagers. I hesitate to conjecture as to where they might have gone from there.

Also, missing from the Monkey Hall are the items the merchant normally offers for sale. Steve was heard to say he was getting all the Monkey stuff. If you have any information please contact the representatives of the MnkY Guild.

Battle.net Gods Take Revenge on the Carl

2008-03-31T01:01:00.000-07:00

Not content to bat us around like a chew toy, Battle.net also mocks us with a very sucky torch.

Some of our uneducated readers may not realize it, but the Carl was spawned at the feet of Battle.net. If Shawn is the grandpappy and the other Carls his unwilling partners in a lunatic coupling to create the off-spring, Battle.net was the back seat of the car in which the dirty deeds were done in birthing the Carl.

The Carls don't spend much time on Battle.net these days as their fickle attention is now focused largely on Arena.net. This morning, however, the Carls returned in full force to their old playing grounds for a little romping in Uber Tristram (for what is commonly called a "Pandemonium Event"). Uber Tristram is a special place where steroid-enhanced and crazed versions of Baal, Diablo, and Mephisto hang out waiting for earnest heroes to show up and bat them around for the chance at a special drop, a Hellfire torch large charm. The best of such charms give +3 to skills for a certain class of hero and 20 to all attributes and 20 to all resists. The worst will give +3 to all skills and 10 to all attributes and 10 to all resists. What's more, some classes are more desirable than others. Only smelly loonies enjoy playing assassins, for instance, so that is the least desirable class to receive such a charm for.

Not only are they huge and comical, but they, of course, do not stack in the stash.

Making one's way to Uber Tristram is not easy. You must first rough up several bosses in hell level difficulty and shake them down for pandemonium keys. You need 3 of each key and that in and of itself can take awhile as the keys drop in about 1 in 10 or so trips to the each boss's house. Since they aren't big on unannounced visitors showing up at their tea time and asking them to empty their pockets of goodies, it's not exactly a picnic running them. They're grumpier than Sharon gets when you don't listen to her and run off and angry up a bunch of enemies and facilitate a party wipe.

Once you've laid down the smack enough times for 9 of the correct over-sized novelty pandemonium keys, you have to use them to open up 3 portals where you encounter the semi-uber bosses. The main problem for the Carls is that Lilith, who has large naked breasts and is constantly bending over and attempting to stab the heroes' eyes out with her nipples, is very terrifying to the mammaphobic types (cough, Shawn, cough). Each of the three ubers leaves behind a juicy body part (horn, brain, eyeball) which you then used to cook up a portal to Uber Tristram.

Uber Tristram, the gateway to untold misery.

Now, the road has already been long, hard, and expensive so, once you generate that portal, you don't want Battle.net to do one of its drunken hiccups, toss you out into the lobby, and throw your game with it's rare and valuable red portal into the trash can. However, Battle.net is an extremely jealous entity and it does not take kindly to deserters. In retaliation for our dalliances with the likes of Guild Wars and Arena.net (that hussy!), Battle.net smacks us up real good during our sojourn into Uber Tristram. Oh, it let us get our body parts from the semi-ubers just fine and open up our portal, but then it played a mind game with us that even the most neurotic stalker girlfriend wouldn't inflict on you.

First, it let us make the portal and go in. We had encountered Uber Mephisto after a careful lure and beaten him down to a sliver of life when the screen froze then flashed us all a "You Have Lost Your Connection to Battle.net" message and tossed us into the lobby. Panicked that the game and it's hard to generate portal were now history, we jumped back in and issued a sigh of relief that the game was still intact. Now, our well-planned and executed lure of one of the three ubers is in tatters and they are all on us so we smack the nearest one and that's now Uber Baal. Bear in mind that, the longer you take to kill the ubers, the worse the situation gets as each one is constantly summoning minions out of thin air. We get Baal down to a sliver and the screen freezes and we're tossed out again. Once more we beat a hasty path back in before the game collapses.

Now, we're sensing a pattern, but we're gullible enough to try again and the same thing happens as we once more pound down an Uber to a sliver of life. We decided to jettison one of the players in hopes of placating Battle.net with a human sacrifice (bye, bye, Shawn, the large-breasted will trouble you no more). No dice. We kick another player out knowing that life is going to be very hard with only two of us in the scramble and Sharon gets sent packing. Two Carls are out and two are left (my husband is the other Carl).

Keep in mind that my husband has not been toying with that slut Arena.net as the 3D camera effects make him motion sick. He and I go back in and my ass is handed to me immediately and I exit the game and come back so I can collect my body more quickly. Meanwhile, in reward for his loyalty, Battle.net lets him wipe out Uber Meph all by himself while I scramble to pick up my carcass and jump back in through the red portal. I believe it is no mere coincidence that he alone was spared as the lone faithful boyfriend of Battle.net.

In the end, we got the torch, but the stats and hero class made it clear that Battle.net is still feeling uppity and felt mocking us was in order. We're going to have to work hard to placate this gaming service scorned. Sacrifices of Jell-o (what corn is to Arena.net, Jell-o is to Battle.net) and plush wombats will have to be offered on bended knee. If all else fails, it can have Shawn as a grubby, but passive, slave boy provided that it keeps Lilith away from him.

The Future Is Corn

2008-03-26T22:13:00.001-07:00

Image clearly pilfered from Cracked. Just because they're a joke site doesn't mean they aren't right! After all, the Carls are full of wit, charm, and infectious humor, but we are also clearly correct about everything of which we speak.

Some of you have wondered about the Carlish preoccupation with corn. Since you've taken the time to worship at the altar of Carl by reading this site (don't try to deny it because that's got to be the only reason you are here - you love us and can't stay away!), I'll let you in on a hint or two as to why the Carl loves corn.

You may not realize this, but corn is everywhere you want to be, in every product you want to use and in everything you want to eat. There's a list here, but it only claims corn is in 25% of the products we buy so they're not exactly the most reliable source. Nonetheless, they give the ignorant rabble who live outside the blessed aura of Carl a clue or two about the breadth and power of corn in our lives.

A biodegradable corn kitchen organizer. It looks like plastic, but has all of the power of corn. If you're starving to death, you can eat your organizers to survive until the next corn harvest.

In fact, if I were an investing sort, I'd be sinking my money into corn right now as it is certain that the future is going to be flying corn cars and high speed corn computers with high fructose processors. Mark my words.

Desperate Times Result in New Facilities for Carls

2008-03-24T23:11:00.001-07:00

Healing Carl tries out the new "facilities".

The Carl guild hall recently saw the installation of new, state of the art and highly effective bathroom facilities in the basement. The guild leader, Healing Carl, went to great pains and expense in order to upgrade the hall's aging outhouse system after many problems associated with the facilities arose because of the guild members' atypical "typical" usage.

An example of the Carl's former (ineffective) restroom design.

The need for the upgrade occurred when it became clear that the excretions of various Carls are anything but usual as compared to most inferior non-Carlish human beings. The quantity and olfactory sensations resulting from the Carl are great and powerful compared to the average person as should be the case for something as grand and incredible as the Carl. Additionally, unlike their compatriots, the filthy minkeys (MNKY), who prefer their feces to be kept in open piles so they may be tossed about at will, the Carls prefer not to keep waste material on hand for easy access.

Carlhalla was becoming an increasingly unpleasant place to spend time in as the months went by and our intrepid guild leader was forced to find a solution. After considering a wide variety of modern toilet facilities, she decided that the lax hygiene and unique chemistry of certain members would mean that even the best conventional lavatory would be insufficient to the task.

For the Carls, only the most desperate of measures will effectively handle their fragrant excretions. Healing investigated an unconventional but highly effective "pit o' lava" model with a magical levitation "seat" technology. When one needs to relieve oneself, all one has to do is toss a little glittering dust into the pit, say a brief incantation ("poopius needius"), and hover over the boiling pit and do one's business. The foul droppings are instantly incinerated and any accompanying vaporous emissions are quickly consumed. As a side benefit, any time hard partying results in the need to copiously yak up last night's meal, one need only hang one's head over the pit and let loose with torrents of tossed cookies.

Sanitation expert, Blorf. (file photo)

This particular model of bathroom facility is courtesy of Blorf. While the Asura usually do not share their technology with outsiders, an exception was made in this case for the Carls because they acknowledge the absolute uberness of the name "Blorf."

Carl Insurrection At Hand?

2008-03-23T17:10:00.000-07:00

The Carls reside in the Isle of the Dead because, unlike other sissy guilds, we fear nothing. Also, we're really lazy and this configuration keeps all our lackeys nearby for easy access. This allows for more time to discuss the greater issues of the day such as the current state of corn and wombat futures, and how many times a hungover warrior can barf in the pool behind the storage chest before it starts to really stink up the joint.

Trouble is brewing in Carlhalla as the Guild leader has grown drunk on her own sense of power. The Carl only approves of getting drunk on substances such as booze, huffing beetle snuff, and inhaling the noxious fumes emanating from Fancypants's pants.

Click this small preview to load a bigger, more legible incendiary message.

The trouble started when the message above flickered into view as Carls entered the guild hall. Previously, the guild leader had outlawed yak and goat porn leaving the Carls nothing with which to arouse themselves beyond the highly fetishist (and honestly, pricey) erotic dolyak material. Fancypants in particular had acquired quite a collection as he is a great fan of "XXXL" sized companions. In fact, it is recommended that the words "yak" or "dolyak" not be mentioned in his presence as he becomes "overly excited" and it is "unpleasant" for all involved. Seriously unpleasant.

The evil that infests the CARL Guild Hall and is threatening to take it over.

The excuse given for the outlawing of racy dolyak materials rings hollow and is seen as a flimsy cover-up of the guild leader's true motivations as the wombats that live in Carlhalla are a well-trained team of crack mercenaries who meticulously follow the orders of their Carlish superiors. Various Carls have their suspicions. One guess is that she is merely attempting to free up space to cram more of her collectible crap (as discussed in a previous piece) into the various storage spaces in Carlhalla. Others suspect that she may be trying to introduce some sort of new and disturbing erotica (e.g., Asura porn) in place of the Carl's preferred stimulatory literature. Most of the Carls are responding to the situation by rambling incoherently and shaking their fists at their leader (though the former is really nothing new) because of their sexual frustration.

A filthy minkey falls to the ground in a state of confused intoxication after forcibly whiffing Fancypants's pants. (file photo)

If the leader's cruel and unusual restrictions are not lifted, there may be a violent insurrection among the Carls. Well, probably not. Insurrection is too much effort. They'll probably just sneak in more goat, yak and dolyak smut and do a better job of hiding it from their leader. She'll likely give Fancypants's dresser a wide berth so they'll just cram things in there.

Names Awarded the Carl Seal of Approval #8

2008-03-23T16:34:00.000-07:00

Molotov Rocktail

Happy Birthday, Shawn!

2008-03-22T22:45:00.000-07:00

Scientists often speculate on the origin of mankind. They think we may have been born in some sort of primordial ooze and made our way from dividing cells to single-celled organisms to water-based spawn to land-based creatures. Or something like that. I wasn't actually paying that much attention in biology that day.

Unlike the origins of man, which are pretty much a series of scientific guesses, we know the origin of the Carl. The Carl was born from the energy of a variety of like-minded folks, but the grandpappy of the Carl is Shawn. Without him, there absolutely could be no Carl.

So, it is of the utmost importance that we celebrate the birth of this V.I.C. (Very Important Carl) as he embodies all that is good and right about Carlish ways. His lack of sanity, love of corn, random nature, and dubious hygiene are all stellar examples of what makes the Carl grand and both envied and admired by all and sundry.

Twenty-six years ago today, a Carl progenitor was born, and I hope he has a wonderful birthday worthy of his incredible spirit. That spirit is both a fabulous Carl, and a much loved and valued friend. May all who have had the fortune to encounter him for even the most fleeting of moments raise a glass in his honor and wish him well.

May your refrigerator be full of corn, your stomach full of cookies, and your mind sanity free, oh great wombat stuffer. I also hope you get some good loot. ;-)

Better Know the Carls

2008-03-21T21:50:00.000-07:00

The three Carls are an enigmatic lot. They stand as paragons of Carlness in a sea of those unenlightened in the way of the Carl. The Carl is sure you'd like to know us better, or at least imagines so. At the very least, it is indifferent to any indifference you may have toward us.

Given the confusion those who encounter us have about our identities, we felt it may be useful for you to firm up your knowledge of each of us by helping you relate both to each of our personalities, situations, and the place each of us holds in the Carl dynamic through pop culture.

The three Carls are Shari, Sharon, and Shawn. While the similarity of these names may lead you to believe that we are all related, one of us is bound to the others by sheer Carl power. The other two are bound by blood as well as Carl. In fact, if one of us were actually a sibling of one of the other Carls, there's a good chance that particular Carl would rarely see a day without bruises inflicted in frustration. By the time you get to the end of this likely verbose and incomprehensible post, you'll know which is which.

Which Carl (Shari, Sharon, or Shawn) corresponds to each of the stooges below:

1. (from left: Moe, Larry, Curly)

Which Carl corresponds to each of these stooges:

2. (from left: McCoy, Kirk, Spock)

3. (from left: bacon, lettuce and tomato)

4. (from left: Snap, Crackle and Pop)

Answers:

1. Sharon: Moe Shari: Larry Shawn: Curly

Sharon is the one who is always having to (verbally) deck Shawn for his insanity and goofy behavior. I'm between them and sometimes explain things and sometimes engages in lunacy of her own. Also, my hair is red like Larry's.

2. McCoy: Sharon Kirk: Shari Shawn: Spock (if he is deep in the plak-tow or when he's looped on flowers from "This Side of Paradise")

McCoy is often grumpy and insistent that people act rationally in a difficult situation. Kirk gets all the lines and I do about 80% of the talking when the Carls speak. I also am clearly the most charismatic of the Carls. Shawn being Spock only works if he is utterly out of his head for some reason. Mainly though, Shawn has pointed ears and green blood in real life.

3. Bacon: Sharon Lettuce: Shawn Tomato: Shari

Sharon is the one who "makes" the "meal" (actually plays the game). We're sort of along for the ride and, while we help, we're not exactly integral to the experience of succeeding in the game. Most people would be just as happy with the bacon all by itself, though the tomato and lettuce add something to the experience as well. I'm the tomato because sometimes I say things which burn (unintentionally, just like a tomatoes acidic nature). And it's red. And I have red hair. Shawn, of course, is a vegetable that has to be kept carefully in the crisper or he goes bad. It's one of the reasons why we can't allow him to hang out or be around others for too long a time. He'll spoil if we don't get him back in his cage, er, fridge.

4. Snap: Sharon Crackle: Shari Pop: Shawn

Sharon snaps at us. I crackle back. Shawn pops his sanity cork and tries to distract everyone.

I'm sure you feel enlightened and enriched by this experience. You don't have to thank us, but, we know you're going to insist on doing so. You're welcome.

Errant Carl Located

2008-03-21T20:22:00.000-07:00

Godly Carl, seen here is his trademark drag get-up, does a cowardly dash from an enemy (as is also his trademark behavior).

Godly Carl, who was reported missing some time ago, was spotted after a long absence from his Carlish brethren fleeing from a large burning Charr effigy. It is unknown why the incensed effigy was chasing Godly, but his fellow Carls suspect that he may have been offering it unwelcome fashion tips. When Healing spotted the wayward Carl, she instructed Tankarific to "incapacitate him!" Since "incapacitate" is at least 4 syllables more than Tankarific can understand in his oft-inebriated state, he responded with, "Tanakarific smash with axe?" With an eye-roll and a look of total exasperation at her alcohol-addled companion, Healing Carl shouted, "yes!"

Godly refuses to look at Tankarific as he is miffed at him for ripping his favorite dress and hogtying him.

Tankarific Carl then stepped on the wayward transvestite's dress to trip him, hit him on the head with the blunt side of his axe and dragged him back to Carlhalla for questioning. Unfortunately, Godly was far from cooperative and remained tight-lipped about his adventures away from home. The Carls suspect he may have been in cahoots with the people who sabotaged the Guild Hall some time ago. It's also possible that he simply ran off and had a hissy fit because of the alliance with the filthy minkeys. Either way, Godly has been grounded and informed that he cannot have any corn for 2 weeks as a punishment for his capriciousness.

A decision has not been made as to whether further coercion should be employed in order to force a confession out of Godly as he is notoriously difficult to influence. However, if his tongue doesn't loosen in due time, the Carls may be forced to take the drastic step of making him dress like a man. There is a great risk that acting on such a threat will send him off into a corner where he will weep like a little girl until given a petticoat to wear. Drastic times, however, call for Carlish measures.

Deranged Elf Sighted

2008-03-20T13:11:00.000-07:00

The deranged elf who has been vandalizing the CARL guild hall was allegedly sighted today in the MnkY guild hall.

He was seen talking to Sinful Smurfette about armor and fetishes. Smurfette says that she was discussing armor with him. She quoted him as saying “Hi, I’m Steve and I’m addicted to armor.” He then went on to say that he had been armor free for a month now. Smurfette was unsure of how to take this but she congratulated him. He then added that it was difficult for obese elfs to buy armor.

Smurfette was naturally horrified by the thought of being unable to buy armor and commiserated with him. Farming expeditions to Joko’s Domain were discussed. Again you are asked to please report any elf sightings as he may be unbalanced and highly dangerous.

Perverted Gremlin Propositions Carls

2008-03-13T15:20:00.001-07:00

During a recent foray into gremlin territory to help the filthy creatures remove certain undesirable elements from their region (most notably involving creatures thought to be extinct for several hundred million years), Ghostly Wombat (exercising a Carl day-pass to team up with the guild) encountered a local with an apparent appetite for more "earthy" pleasures.

The oddly-named Blimm proposes that Ghostly inspect his "goods"

The demented creature apparently lures unsuspecting travelers to his vicinity by having an inexplicably awesome name. However, once they approach, he becomes increasingly agitated, eager to depart the town and visit a more convenient (and secluded) location.

His confidence up, Blimm is eager to get to his "guest house"

It should be noted that although she was foolish enough to approach, Ghostly Wombat managed to drop an urn of Kuurong's ashes on his head and escaped unscathed. Other locals who are familiar with Blimm's penchant for the forbidden fruits were heard remarking the suitability of the gremlin being foiled by the ashes of someone once best known for "grasping".

It is suspected that Blimm is still at large, and at this point, is probably very desperate. He may now be armed with the ashes of one who once had similar appetites, and consequently should be avoided at all costs. Strangely, Fancypants Carl has volunteered to bring this perverted creature to justice, so any and all information about Blimm's current whereabouts should be forwarded to Fancypants for further research. (Informants are discouraged from sending personal photos unless they also happen to be yaks, involve yaks, or are related to yaks in any way).

***UPDATE***

The suspect known as "Blimm" may have already met someone with a less forgiving nature than that of Ghostly Wombat. During their recent forays into the same area, the Carls stumbled across the item depicted below:

The "staff"; apparently Blimm also had a penchant for hyperbole

Due to these findings, Fancypants has apparently lost interest in the case, although he has retained the evidence for "archival purposes". However, in a somewhat disturbing development, Diabolical Carl has determined to continue to pursue the case until Blimm's (hopefully unharmed) corpse is discovered. "I can't rest until I have his cold dead corpse in my hands," the frightening monster claimed. When questioned as to why he was so intent on solving this particular crime, he replied "Crime? What did he do?"

Diabolical Carl pondering the sanity of his cohorts (and rightfully so). (File photo)

(Editor's note from the High Queen of Carl (Shari): I added Diabolical's picture here for reference).

Regardless of his motives, it may be only fitting that Blimm's body be claimed by a creature nearly half as ugly as he himself once was.

Remains of Oversize Lizard Fascinate Carlish Archaeologists

2008-03-10T04:51:00.000-07:00

The Carls and their hired lackeys ponder the best way to extricate their find from the Canthan platform.

During a routine expedition in Cantha, Carlish archaeologists stumbled across what appeared to be a giant petrified flying lizard (also known colloquially as a "dragon") buried partially in the warped planks of the Canthan walkways. Normally, artifacts in Cantha consist of a vast collections of soiled rags, rotting lumber, and remnants of those stupid cheap red paper lanterns that the Canthans hang all over the place. The giant dragon is a substantial find.

Confusion reigned as the Carls considered various methods of extracting the petrified creature. Tankarific Carl suggested, "Tanakarific smash with axe?" The other Carls responded to this suggestion as they usually do and ignored his drunken rambling. Fancypants Carl speculated that dropping his fancy pants and mooning the long deceased reptile might be a way of frightening it so it'd just "jump up" and out of the flooring. The Carls once more responded as they usually do to this particular comrade and backed away slowly.

With Tankarific standing by drunk, holding out his axe and looking confused, and Fancypants grinning lewdly and holding out something best not mentioned in polite company, the task of figuring out how to extract the huge artifact fell to the saner of the Carls, Healing Carl. Healing, who is known for her obsessive compulsive disorders including the need to collect every possible mini pet that ever existed and stockpiling huge quantities of useless collectible items (Hummel figurines litter the Carlhalla's nooks and crannies along with skree wings and both superb and regular Charr carvings), was the Carl who most wanted to unearth the scaled behemoth. She wanted to keep it as a "maxi pet" as she's nearly completed her collections of all other sorts of available crap and felt the need to start a new collection. Frankly, the other Carls are worried and believe she should be on medication when they are sober and sane. Thankfully, neither of those mental states are very common around the Carl guild hall so Healing remains free to indulge her particular neurotic tendencies.

Healing suggested that they simply use whatever implements were at hand to actually "dig" into the ground and "unearth" the "dragon" as that is the way archaeological "digs" are usually conducted. Despite her clear explanations and astute leadership, the remaining Carls and their hired flunkies stood around looking stumped as to what needed to be done. Though Healing Carl is thoroughly accustomed to such behavior from her inebriated and demented subordinates, she became quite testy and eventually gave up and stalked away.

The petrified dragon remains safely ensconced in the platform where it is free of the mini pet droppings and kitschy knick-knacks which litter Carlhalla.

Names Awarded the Carl Seal of Approval #7

2008-03-10T04:39:00.000-07:00

Sheldon the Verminator

Mystery Disease Strikes the Carl

2008-03-08T17:07:00.001-08:00

Smiting Carl looks on as Ghostly Wombat, who likely contracted the disease after sneaking into the Carl guild hall (Carlhalla), goes into a fit of jerky spasms. As a smiter, he is helpless to apply any healing techniques to her in her hour of need so he stands by and applauds her entertaining disorder.

A mystery disease is striking certain members of the Carl clan. The symptoms include spastic and/or clumsy movements, a tendency to drool more frequently than usual for a Carl, and a loss of desire for corn. The slobber in particular is actually an alarming amount considering the impressive amount of spittle of which the average Carl is capable. Great pools of this oozing is collecting on the floor of Carlhalla so visitors are encouraged to watch their step or risk a sock-soaking of possibly infectious Carl juices.

Tanktastic does her impression of someone with an I.Q. lower than 80. Since she has an I.Q. of 68, it's hard to say if this is a symptom of the unknown disease or if she's just playing with her pet Rurik on an average day. Nonetheless, it is a disturbing sight. (file photo)

Adopting a vacant and dumb look on one's face while clumsily stomping on the ground with one foot is another possible symptom, but it's hard to know for sure as Carls are prone to doing this pretty much all the time anyway.

Virtuous Carl consults with a doctor who could tear himself away from the sensory delights of the guild hall long enough to offer a theory about the cause of the mystery disease. This particular doctor theorized that certain Carls may be in the advanced stages of a mutant yak-based venereal disease.

Doctors claim to be working around the clock in an attempt to deal with this disease. However, this news source noticed that most of the doctors seemed to be spending their time riffling through the collection of yak porn hidden behind the Festival Hat maker and scarfing down the excess stores of corn. However, between trips to the "spanking pond" and mouthfuls of corn, one doctor said he believes that the disease is likely psychosomatic in nature. The doctor believes that the nature of Carl is to constantly behave in confusing and unpredictable ways and frequent socialization between Carls forces them to act more and more bizarre in order to differentiate themselves from the other Carls. In essence, the unpredictable and odd becomes predictable and mundane so new, dark and increasingly disturbing levels of Carlishness must be plumbed.

When asked for a comment on this theory, Virtuous Carl responded with, "what?" and adopted a confused and dumb-founded look proving that he, too, may have been infected. Clearly, the Carls are not overly troubled by this new development, but others may be well-advised to stay clear of them for the time being, particularly if you aren't a fan of drooling and seizure-like dancing moves.

Names Awarded the Carl Seal of Approval #6

2008-03-08T16:55:00.000-08:00

Koahm the Weary

Carl Joins With Filthy Minkeys

2008-02-29T21:08:00.000-08:00

The Carl has abandoned it's alliance with NUDE-ists in favor of hanging out with filthy MNKYs. When the lead Carl asked the other Carls how they felt about allying themselves with monkeys instead of nudists, the other Carls pondered the ramifications of associating with a bunch of feces-throwing, bug-eating persons who prefer bananas to corn and swing from trees as opposed to associating with free-spirited perverts who have abandoned their outer apparel along with their modesty and good taste.

In the end, the Carl decided the important thing was that someone, anyone, would be subjected to the inane prattle and rampant lunacy that is the Carl. The Carl is relatively indifferent to who it inflicts itself upon just as it is indifferent to so very, very many things (other than corn). Also, frankly, pondering ramifications makes the Carl want to take a nap.

In honor of this new alliance with the filthy minkeys, we present to you the inspiration for the Carl's affectionate sobriquet for the MNKY guild:

A Tour of CarlHalla - Part 1

2008-02-28T14:54:00.000-08:00

The following article is part one of a multi-part series covering the detailed inner workings of the Carls' Guild Hall (aka CarlHalla). Our undercover operative, Ghostly Wombat (pictured to the left), is obviously not of the Carl clan. However, at great risk to herself and her various pets (most notably her wombats), she infiltrated this heavily-guarded fortress to reveal to the world exactly what goes on when the doors of CarlHalla are closed. This [dramatic pause] is her story.

(Ghostly Wombat gesticulates wildly, most likely at something large and fearsome.)

I'll cut right to the chase: the splendor of CarlHalla is unmatched anywhere in the Guild Isles, from NUDE's eyesore (apparently designed by a color-blind three-year-old) to the former WoS haven with its splendiferous waterfall. CarlHalla not only meets these (admittedly low) standards, it surpasses them, then mocks them for their abundant inadequacies.

A holy light seems to ooze from CarlHalla's pores, pouring forth onto residents and visitors alike.

The wonders of CarlHalla are evident as soon as one enters its hallowed halls. The gaping entryway that funnels members and their sponsored "guests" alike into the main chambers guides them directly to the feet of their giant of a Guild Lord. His intent glare down at you is nearly enough to distract you from the amazing carving that appears to have taken residence beneath his feet.

Our reporter braves the Guild Lord's glare for this groundbreaking footage of a compass. Carved in the floor.

Despite the evident beauty of the compass, the Guild Lord's incessant throat-clearing and muttering about "kids on [his] artwork" drives any curious travelers away within a few moments. However, they soon realize that the scenery is just beginning...

Grenth is evidently held in high regard by the Carl

The gargantuan stained-glass window pictured above is the centerpiece to carlHalla's shrine to Grenth, the almighty ruler of the underworld and Dwayna's mortal enemy. Although the window has a staircase leading up to it, the stairs appear to stem from a bottomless reflecting pool, perhaps implying that the Carl worships no one, but certainly can appreciate fine art at discount prices (there was a chip in the glass that evidently reduced its list price).

The reflecting pool appears to be fed by a series of large gargoyle statues steadily drooling into it. While this reporter is uncertain as to where the spittle ends up, she decided not to let any splash onto her sandals; gargoyle saliva is notoriously hard to get out from between your toes. The pool also appeared to double as Tankarific Carl's commode/vomit repository when he was too lazy to wander over to the actual facilities.

After backing away from the spit receptacle, visitors may note the remarkable lighting conditions provided by CarlHalla's benevolent residents. The main hall is lit entirely by candlelight, outside of what little natural light seeps through Grenth's stern visage. Candles are scattered about the floor and lined up in wall sconces, providing lovely backlighting for those wandering about the main floor.

Lighting options abound in CarlHalla

My more perceptive readers will note that I managed to smuggle my pet thorn wolf into CarlHalla as well; I won't say how, and it wasn't pleasant. Judging by the prevalence of minipet waste products scattered throughout the floor and smushed into wall cracks, the home of the Carls is very much pet-friendly, and appears to host a wide variety of creatures. Oddly enough, I didn't notice any water djinn waste, but perhaps they just clean up after their elementals.

The massive stone pillars that support the high-reaching ceiling of the hall must have been built by giants (perhaps relatives of their Guild Lord), and judging by the levels of mossy growth on them, it must've been a long time ago. This leads me to believe that the Carls have a long and storied past, or at least are ardent horticulturalists.

Judging by the claw marks etched randomly on each pillar, I suspect that some of the guild residents have been attempting to subsist at least partially on this substance. That said, it didn't appear appetizing, and actually seemed to burn slightly when its leaves were broken. As I studied the markings more closely (they appeared to be made by a spear, and had glitter of some sort lodged in them...), I suddenly noticed what must be the centerpiece of the Carl art collection:

Stupid wyvern... doesn't even know we're watching it...

This house-sized painting "dorfs" most any viewer, as can be noted by your intrepid reporter standing dead-center (along with some yokels gawking at the camera crew). It's most unfortunate that the depicted wyvern appears to have gotten itself into such an entanglement; they're usually rather graceful creatures, which makes one suspect that this particular animal had been previously domesticated--possibly by Tankarific, during one of his drunken adoption drives. Sadly, most domesticated lizards die fairly quickly after being re-introduced to the wild, and this one was most likely no exception.

The run-down shrine is a testament to either Carl's practicality or, more likely, laziness. Either way, my thorn wolf was unimpressed.

Moving on past the painting, visitors arrive at a shrine that has apparently seen better days, perhaps because it has been superseded by Grenth's main-hall residence. One of the previously mentioned giants must have stomped in the middle, causing cracks to develop radiating out from the center of the pedestal and knocking down most of the main arches (that now appear to be broken pillars). How depressing that any guild could let one of their holiest landmarks become so run-down...

Having grown weary of broken stonework and depressing art, I decided to explore CarlHalla's exterior in hopes of finding artifacts that survived the test of time in better condition. I was not disappointed; immediately upon exiting, I discovered a bridge that, while not entirely functional (it took my camera crew and I hours to get the above shot without slipping through to the waters below), was certainly fascinating to look upon. The Carls seem to have a penchant for metalwork, as evinced by the aforementioned candleabras. I would later discover that this theme does indeed pervade the entirety of the residence.

This once-lovely fountain appears to have been partially consumed by a landslide, probably caused by some of those accursed wurms that seem to prowl around these lands. My thorn wolf was most disappointed, as he was growing thirsty and couldn't abide by drinking out of the fetid reflecting pool in the main hall. Unfortunately, this fountain appeared to be long out-of-service, judging by the dirt-filled interior and the grass growing in the basin. I sent the thorn wolf off to seek out some refreshment while I continued to explore. I soon discovered one of the strangest artifacts of all...

Simply an ugly flag. Who picked this out, Diabolical Carl?

While the flag shown above appears to provide more evidence that the Carl has a fixation for decorative iron, I found myself puzzled by the presence of the relatively new flag hanging from it. After all, the Carl's official guild cape (of which I expertly made a counterfeit, as shown above) is black and white, so as to make it absolutely smashing with any ensemble (even shiny purple nipples, as unfortunately demonstrated by one of the hall's more ... peculiar residents). This flag, however, was unadorned red--a very unCarlish color, and seemingly out of place with their well-documented eccentric tastes. I decided to make a note of the item, but had to press on, lest my invasion be discovered.

Upon reaching CarlHalla's back door, I realized that I could have saved myself a great deal of trouble by simply sneaking in this entrance, as it never appears to be locked. Even heaving upon the so-called "Gate Lock" seemed to have no effect--the gates were determined to remain open for all to frequent. This made my adroit infiltration plan--hiding in an empty barrel labeled "BOOZE" in one of Tankarific's daily shipments and hoping he didn't open mine before passing out in a drunken stupor--seem rather pointless. However, I must warn readers that by the time this article is published, the Carls will no doubt have rectified the situation and have posted monkeys (governed by wombat overlords) at the gates to ensure that no non-believers gain entrance.

This marks the end of my first day at CarlHalla; I decided to hide behind the obviously-unused Gate Lock mechanism until the following morning, as I could hear someone yelling at her teammates (overlaid by the tones of drunken singing), and knew that if the Carls discovered me, my thorn wolf and I would have much larger problems than Tankarific's anger at discovering one of his booze barrels empty. I resolved to continue exploring the exterior of CarlHalla tomorrow, once everyone had drank and danced themselves stupid. I expected to have plenty of time to explore, for if there's one certainty in the world, it's that Carls cannot remain in one place for long, and wherever they go next, they're very much likely to wind up lost.

Working With Jerky

2008-02-25T21:25:00.000-08:00

A flesh golem (left) assists Tankarific Carl and Koss in a battle with weird assassin things.

The average adventurer benefits greatly from the assistance of his companions. Such companions are often "hired guns" who go along for a share of the spoils. A few gold pieces, a spot of ale, some roasted meat and a shared bit of goat pornography are all it takes to convince the likes of Koss, Dunkoro, or Jora to go along for the ride. (Jora in particular likes her goat porn, especially it big teats are involved.)

Most adventurers choose their heroes by the types of skills they bring to the mission or quest, but when recruits are on offer with similar skills, the choice of hireling tends to become idiosyncratic and highly subjective. Many adventurers, being shallow, stupid, and, frankly speaking, mentally encumbered by the fact that they are male, will base their decision on appearance. Some go for the scantily-clad, large breasted type who is prone to doing a harem dance when there's a lull in battle. Others favor the petite, small-breasted boyish-looking women so they can feel more masculine and dominant while still catering to their hidden pederast impulses and suppressing their homosexual urges.

The unsung heroes of mission assistance are minions. These disgusting bits of reanimated flesh extracted from the corpses of fallen enemy and ally alike form a decaying barrier between party leaders and those that wish to do them harm. Their presence can often mean the difference between a successful mission and multiple dirt naps, yet their praises are rarely sung by those who fight side-by-side with them.

In order to bring to light the value of these valiant bits of smelly, flesh-jerky, this news source asked adventurers about their fondest recollections of battle with resurrected creatures. Noted barley-based beverage enthusiast Tankarific Carl said, "They spend a lot less time boasting about their abilities than Koss, and they don't steal my ale like that drunken cow, Tahlkora. They also smell better than Fancypants's pants...but that's not saying much because even a yak that's been dead for 2 weeks smells better than his bloomers."

Since hearing his pants being mentioned piqued Fancypants interest, and he wandered over to talk to this reporter, there was no choice but to also interview him (otherwise, he wouldn't go away). Said Fancypants, "I enjoy the jerky because it allows me to indulge in some of my more socially repugnant tendencies without any fear of repercussions from the local constabulary. After all, expired minions tell no tales and necrophilia with a reconstituted corpse isn't a crime, is it? Is it? Well? Hey, come back here!"

Guild founder and leader, Healing Carl had this to say about working with jerky, "I greatly prefer working with minions. For one thing, they don't take a cut of the drops so I have more money to buy new outfits with, and you know how pricey elite armors are. What's more, they may be bits of meat held together by magic and directed by the will of a conjurer obsessed with death and dead things and minions have a tendency to run off and stir up trouble, but they're still not as much of a pain in the ass to adventure with as the other Carls." No truer tribute to the value of these (until now) unsung comrades in arms has ever been spoken.

Guild Hall Marked By Vandalism, Foul Odors

2008-02-16T21:46:00.000-08:00

A drunken and dumb Tankarific stands before the snowman configuration left by an unknown vandal.

The Carl Guild Hall was viciously vandalized yesterday by an unknown perpetrator. A circle of snowmen was left in proximity of the Guild Lord near the center of the hall. The snowmen's configuration has left some calling them "Snowhenge", though it's really a pretty stupid name. Attempts to dispose of the snowmen were thwarted by a lack of really warm mittens. Local tough guy and celebrated drunkard Tankarific Carl said, "They's too cold to move now...let's wait until they're a little warmer." Attempts to explain that they would naturally melt with time left the drunken warrior confused and disoriented so he wandered off to a corner and passed out.

The Guild Lord and other merchants who perpetually inhabit the hall were questioned about what they saw during the absence of the CARL guild members. All questions were met with unrelenting sales pitches for various wares. It is unknown if the lack of cooperation is due to a stupor induced through malodorous magical vapors or if it is simply crass commercialism inhibiting the various merchants' impulses to exercise civic responsibility.

Witnesses who arrived at the scene after the prankster had left his mark said that, other than the snowmen, the only thing unusual was an intensely foul smell that seemed to cling to the snowmen and hang heavily in the air throughout the hall. The smell was reminiscent of a fetid elf known for aggressive acts with snowmen. This maladjusted elf previously attacked hydra in the Ascalon area and tormented visitors and residents of Augury Rock. Unfortunately, since there were no cooperative or cognizant eyewitnesses to the incident, it cannot be determined conclusively that the crazed elf was responsible.

When asked how this disturbing incident made her feel, hysterical guild founder Healing Carl said, "I feel violated...and a little nauseous from the powerful stench. I think I'm going to have to toss my cookies. Excuse me." As both Tankarific and Healing were indisposed, this news authority queried Fancypants Carl how he felt about this violation to which he responded, "I enjoy a good, hard violation," with a sly grin. This news authority then backed away slowly from Mr. 'pants.

The Carls claim that they always leave the Guild Hall locked up while they are away adventuring and there was no sign of forced entry. Healing Carl insists that the key is kept safely in her bra at all times. She said that it is an especially secure place for the key since neither of the other Carls is willing to go in there after it. Given that one is female and prefers to keep her hands off of other women's breasts and the other is mammophobic, it is unlikely that the key was clandestinely removed and stealthily replaced by another Carl. Said Healing Carl, "That key never left the ample crevice between my heaving bosoms!"

There is suspicion among the Carls that this is either a copycat incident, or, there was inside assistance from someone who was sympathetic to the lunatic elf. The key is left in the hall's storage chamber for brief periods of time on rare occasions when Healing dons her extremely scanty alternate gear for special missions. During those times, it's not impossible for one of the other Carls to remove the key from storage and have it copied.

Mystery man (possibly pants-less) in Carl cape in suspicious proximity to an elf fitting the description of the criminal in previous incidents in the Ascalon territory. (file photo)

All of the Carls plead ignorance when asked about who might have helped the elf, but the file photo above (taken in Kourna) shows a man in a CARL cape standing in close proximity to an elf. While it cannot be concluded that the man is actually a CARL guild member, as he may be wearing a counterfeit cape, his words to a "Psycho" and coincidental appearance in Kourna at the same time and in the same place as an elf are highly suspicious. Unfortunately, since the man in the cape can only be seen from the back, it's impossible to identify him. He is wanted for questioning by authorities. Anyone who encounters a man with blond hair and a penchant for sequined ankle accessories sporting a CARL cape should contact a member of the police force immediately.

The CARL guild is offering a reward of as much corn as you can eat if your information leads to the apprehension of the vandal. Of course, the foul odor may linger for awhile in the hall so you might want to get that corn "to go".

Names Awarded the Carl Seal of Approval #5

2008-02-16T20:43:00.000-08:00

Hogun the Unpredictable

Lessons in Carl #3

2008-02-16T14:55:00.000-08:00

If you missed the previous Carl lessons, here are lesson 1 and lesson 2.

For today's lesson, you're going to consider the Carl through the eyes of popular culture. Choose the most Carlish answer from the questions below:

1. Carl is a movie producer. What movie is Carl most like to make?

My Dinner With Carl
Battlefield Carl
Citizen Carl
King Carl
Dr. Carllove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Filthy Monkeys

2. Carl is a rapper. Which sobriquette would it choose?

Carl Monkey Monk
Notoriously C.A.R.L.
L.L. Cool Carl
Wu Tang Carl
Vanilla Carl

3. If the Carl were to have its own T.V. show, what would it be?

C*A*R*L
C.S.I. Carl
CARL in Cincinnati
Carlrama
Carl's Anatomy

Answers:

What movie is Carl most like to make?

My Dinner With Carl (based on My Dinner With Andre) - This movie is about two bores who sit and talk about a lot of nothing over dinner. Spending time talking about nothing is very Carl, though being a bore doesn't really suit the Carl.
Battlefield Carl (based on Battlefield Earth) - L. Ron Hubbard was a serious loon and refused to take his medication. That gives him something in common with at least one of the Carl clan. He also started his own religion which is bizarre and selective. His philosophy is scary and incomprehensible. That gives him another thing in common with the Carl. Despite all those things, the Carl simply can't sanction anything associated with anyone who started a religion which uses Tom Cruise as a spokesman, no matter how scary and insane he was.
Citizen Carl (based on Citizen Kane) - The greatest appeal in aping this particular movie for the Carl lies in having a mysterious last word. Imagine what the Carl could do with the opening sequence alone if it were re-written to Carlish standards. An aged and decrepit Fancypants is lying in bed and whispers a breathy, "wombat" then drops a pair of sequined underpants. There's also great potential in a shrill, talentless love interest which Fancypants could also portray.
King Carl (based on King Kong) - The main benefit of this is that there are monkeys in the original. Of course, a re-make would have to feature a giant Carl worshiped by monkeys rather than a giant monkey worshiped by Carls. The Carl bows down before no monkey.
Dr. Carllove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Filthy Monkeys (based on Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the H-Bomb) - Peter Sellers was in the original and he had serious Carl. The fact that he's dead wouldn't necessarily stop the Carl from remaking this classic in its own image, but it might slow things down a bit. We'd have to resurrect his corpse using a necromancer and have him animate it.

The best answer is:
3. Citizen Carl
There's nothing more irresistible then Fancypants in a dual role.

Carl is a rapper. Which sobriquette would it choose?

Carl Monkey Monk (based on Snoop Doggy Dog) - Carl can mix with filthy monkeys and does enjoy playing with monkeys. The only drawback is that monkeys aren't wombats, though they do tend to throw feces around and eat bugs. That gives them something in common with Shawn so this name has that going for it.
Notoriously C.A.R.L. (based on Notorious B.I.G.) - This name has great potential because it suits the guild name pretty well. "Notoriously Confused and Ridiculously Lost" is very suitable. However, it's almost too smooth.
L.L. Cool Carl (based on L.L. Cool J) - Any name with "cool" kind of sucks. Seriously, if you have to say you're cool, you probably suck.
Wu Tang Carl (based on Wu Tang Clan) - The main benefit of this is that "Wu Tang" is fun to say. "Wooooo Tang". "Woooooooooo".
Vanilla Carl (Vanilla Ice) - All the Carls are white and awkward. None of them can sing particularly well either. That means they have more in common with Vanilla Ice than any of these other rappers.

The best answer is: 4. Wu Tang Carl
The Carl likes things that are fun to say. It's a big priority. It's the only reason we ever go to places like "Arkjok Ward". Arkjok. Arkjok.

If the Carl were to have its own T.V. show, what would it be?

C*A*R*L (based on M*A*S*H) - The Carl tends to associate with itself through battles in on-line games and M*A*S*H was about a war. However, the show was more about the sexually promiscuous and humorous doctors. While some Carls are promiscuous, they are really only interested in yaks (cough, Shawn, cough). And, while they are humorous, they aren't doctors of anything except Carlology. The practice of Carlish medicine concerns itself not with the body but the soul.
C.S.I. Carl (based on C.S.I. whatever) - All of these procedural deals are tedious and too realistic. The Carl doesn't see where it'd fit into anything remotely related to these shows.
CARL in Cincinnati (based on WKRP in Cincinnati) - A radio station that is full of wacky characters who embarrass themselves and get into bad situations has great potential for showcasing the Carl. There's even an aggressive maternal role for Sharon to play in the show just like she does in real life.
Carlrama (based on Futurama) - Animation does suit the Carl as its members are definitely animated. In fact, some of them carry a unique odor such that in person acting with that particular member (cough, Shawn, cough) would be eye wateringly difficult for the other Carls. The main problem is that the show would have to be set in the future and the Carl expects that it'll have a position as a world religion by then and no one would accept that its founders would do the lowly work of package delivery.
Carl's Anatomy (based on Grey's Anatomy) - This show is formulaic and predictable. It's full of pretty people and cliched situations and relationships. Frankly, it sucks and there's nothing Carl about it.

The best answer is: 3. Carl in Cincinnati
Though the Carl really doesn't know how it feels about Cincinnati, the ability to broadcast the message of Carl and be wacky is rather hard to resist.

The Carl Helps Control Animal Population

2008-02-15T10:00:00.000-08:00

Tankarific checks out possible pets (fungal wallows on the left and a phoenix on the right) in the Canthan pound as an overdressed, overly made-up pound worker looks on.

The Canthan area is facing an animal population crisis. Reckless tenants of the area often adopt the bizarre and mutated animals when they are small and cute only to abandon them when they are big and ugly. As a result, hordes of unpleasant semi-domesticated former pets wander the Kainang City area living off of the waste from the city's vast and decorative sewage pipes and copious trash from its citizens' ramshackle dwellings.

At first, area governer's considered solving the problem by legalizing matrimony between men and their larger pets. The city has been suffering from a dearth of female companionship because most women prefer to run off and become assassins (very often named "Zenmai" for some reason) and join up with traveling riff-raff rather than spend their days washing tattered rags, getting loaded and bloated on rice wine, and living in dilapidated shacks. The reluctance of women to fulfill their female obligations as part of the rich Canthan culture baffles local officials. The obliviousness of Canthan officials baffles the Carl.

Unfortunately, bestial relations proved troublesome at best and lethal at worst as most exotic and fierce animals are not keen on being violated by amorous Canthan males. Most honeymoons resulted in lost limbs and rapid and raggedly applied castrations. On the bright side, the Emperor has more eunuchs than he knows what to do with to look after his harem and royal consorts.

The secondary solution to the pet problem was to offer transients the opportunity to adopt exotic animals as pets to take along on their adventuring. As incentives to take one of the orphaned pets as ones own, the Imperial household offered a free jade pooper scooper, silk doodie bags, and guaranteed that all pets had been forcibly spayed or neutered except the fungal wallows. Frankly, no one is willing to take a knife to the genitals of anything with spiny backs, razor sharp claws and huge fangs.

Tankarific Carl investigates a model of a more impressive potential pet at the pound.

Tankarific Carl looked over a wide variety of possible pets and was impressed by the beauty of the phoenixes and the potential fighting power of the fungal wallows. However, upon encountering a huge and impressive model of a dog, he opted to adopt one of the gigantic beasts because of its impressive stature and potential to intimidate and devour whole his enemies.

The small, irritating dog Tankarific got stuck with.

After filling out all of the paperwork, Tankarific was handed a small, ugly thing and assured that it was the very same dog that he had viewed a model of. After querying officials about whether or not this was a puppy, Tankarific learned that this was as big as it's going to get. Rather than adopt a huge, terrifying beast, Takarific is now stuck with a yappy, hideous lapdog that spends most of its time sniffing random spots and stains and lifting its leg to the Guild Hall storage chest. The other Carls have been whining about the smell of ugly dog wee-wee on their precious collectibles and crafting materials.

The Carl warns all those considering adopting a pet that they should not rely on Canthan models or honesty. Additionally, it's important to keep in mind that it's really hard to stop a fungal wallow that is intent on humping your leg.

Chinese New Year Brings Cheer, Plague-infested Vermin

2008-02-15T02:53:00.000-08:00

The running of the rats allows for the efficient spread of disease-infected fleas among the local population.

Residents of the Shing Jea Monastery and Kamadan (the Jewel of Istan) welcomed the year of the rat at the start of the Chinese New Year last weekend. This time of year is always one of great joy as the celestial mascot showers the most devoted revelers with liquor, sweets, and fireworks and locals dance about drunkenly in their underpants.

Party attendees wearing ludicrous "lion" masks.

As part of the celebration, celebrants don a stupid-looking mask which is supposed to be a lion but really looks like a stylized fish head. Frankly, the Carl doesn't know what the designers were thinking when they made up this "lion", but it's pretty sure someone was high on powdered naga horn at the time. The fringe hanging off the bottom "lip" of the headress comically swings as merrymakers dance while waiting for the appearance of the celestial being. The loonier of the Carls insists this fringe is a "beard" or "goatee", but the saner Carls know he's been huffing powdered naga horn (early and often), too.

Imperial Chef Yan offers up a griffin wing dish to lure the celestial vermin down from the heavens.

Chefs must prepare a series of delicacies in order to convince the celestial being down from the heavens. The dishes tend to highlight a repugnant body part of a rare creature and feature such items as ebon spider legs, griffin wings, and mantis pincers. Frankly, the celestial creatures seen to delight in eating all the crap the Carl spits out and leaves on the side of the plate so its more than happy to hand over whatever gristle and skeletal remains the chefs need to prepare their specialties.

Celebrators attempt to flee from giant rats and plague-infected Frenchers.

When the celestial rodent appeared, he brought along a coterie of giant rats to run amuck about the monastery grounds with him. The rats dispersed fleas the size of strawberries which proceeded to celebrate the new year in their own unique way by sucking the blood out of party participants and infecting them with celestial plague. Diseased party animals felt that their boil-covered bodies were a blessing from the Great Celestial and attempted to convey that blessing on other participants with tonsil-tickling French kisses.

The Carl fled from the festivities at this point, but can only guess that the resulting carnage was more disturbing (and nauseating) than the contents of Fancypants's pants. Frankly, the Carl is glad that next year is the year of the Ox when the worst that can happen is party goers will be crushed in a celestial stampede or gored to death by celestial horns.

Names Awarded the Carl Seal of Approval #4

2008-02-15T00:39:00.000-08:00

Baglorag Grumblesnort

Playing with Wurms

2008-02-13T14:04:00.000-08:00

Editor's note: The following is an excerpt taken from the journal of Godly Carl, who has not been spotted in Elona since these events took place. While he is certainly still alive, the Carl guild would appreciate any and all information pertaining to his whereabouts. If you think you have spotted Godly Carl, do not attempt to approach him; instead, back away slowly and contact your nearest Carl representative.

***
20 January 2008
How did it come to this? What kind of day begins with an ankle-high version of Varesh's unpleasant visage glaring you right in the eyes?

As I slowly emerged from my bedroll, I could tell she was hungry. Hell, so was I, but that didn't make food any easier to come by in this god-forsaken place [ed: Obviously excluding Godly Carl himself]. We'd been wandering in the wastes for what seemed to be months now, but according to Nature Carl had only been a few hours. That being the case, I'm no longer certain how I wound up in my bedroll, so either she's lying or Tankarific slipped me some of that drain cleaner he calls ale again. Short bastard; must have a hollow leg.

As I stretched up and looked about, I started to recall why I had been sleeping: the Waste sucked. Elona had spoiled me, what with the bikini-clad elementalists flowing through the streets with not a care in the world... and then there was the Waste, with no company aside from a she-ranger that always seemed to have somewhere to be, a nancy boy with defective (and vastly insufficient) pants, and a horde of wurms.

Oh yes, the wurms. How could I forget the next step in our journey?

Godly Carl looks down upon the wurms, circling some mysterious unidentified object

I had been told that we "knew where we [were] going" and that it was time to get moving. I pulled myself away from the hypnotic dance of the wurm and speculated as to what it could be circling so intently. Whatever it was, it appeared Nature was headed straight for it, which meant I had no choice but to find out for myself. Somehow, I was less than excited, and in fact had a vague sense of foreboding about the days to come...

The Carls inspect the mysterious object

"Seriously? Wurm poo? That's what we came to find?" I whined to whoever would listen. Unfortunately, it seemed the adventure was just beginning.

"We're not seeking this, but it's certainly necessary for the next step of our quest!" Nature exclaimed with far more enthusiasm than I thought was called for. Without missing a beat, she grabbed up a good handful of the stuff and waved it around in the air while making an odd crooning noise. Disgusted, I turned away and started to trudge back to the town, reflecting upon how my life had reached this point, when suddenly the ground trembled beneath the party.

"A trap!" I squealed, pumping my legs faster in hopes that the other Carls would provide sufficient distraction for me to make my escape. But indeed, it wasn't a trap, or at least not a deadly one. As I fainted, I could feel the wurm's jaws closing around my limp form.

The wurms, enraged at the desecration of their sacred spoor, consume the Carls as Xandra's spirit observes impassively

I awoke from my stupor in a rather dark and slimy place. "How did I get back to the guild hall?" I wondered silently as I inspected my surroundings. I seemed to be suffering from an odd double-vision effect--I could see a vision of tall ribs, noxious goo, and what appeared to be a pair of half-digested boots superimposed over an image of wurms burrowing through the desert sands. It slowly dawned on me that I had in fact not been warped back to the revered home of the Carl but was instead reclining in the gut of one of those accursed worms. As if to reinforce my insight, one of my compatriots burst forth with a monstrous belch, in an attempt to ward off further intrusions to its domain.

The wurm attempts to relieve some abdominal pressure

Thankfully, Nature had tired of tormenting us and decided to lead off to our destination. I had not yet learned the complex inner workings of the wurm's navigational system, which led to some unfortunate side trips involving margonites and various expletives unjustly hurled my way from my fearless leader. My attempts to explain my difficulty in maneuvering my monstrous transport resulted in scoffs and spluttered imprecations about leaving me out to die.

Having vented to her heart's content (upon your faithful and much put-upon narrator, of course), Nature eventually determined that we had reached our destination and somehow ordered the wurms to set us free. This was unfortunately executed using a technique that is somewhat unpleasant for all parties involved.

The wurms vomit the intrepid party onto safe ground. Not pictured: dignity, wet-naps

Having "safely" extracted myself from the wurm's maw, I felt I had some right to an explanation as to why we had decided to wander off into the wastes with no clear objective. Virtuous Carl (whose "virtue" is dubious at best, considering his choice of apparel) made remarks about some "arrow" guiding us, to which I snorted and turned to someone who knew what they were doing.

"Do you have the right quest selected?" Nature demanded, glaring at me as though the wurm snot on her boots was my fault. "We're doing " *fzzzzt*.... ... "Are you listening?!"

As I used the last of my napkins to wipe myself clean, I glared up at my tyrannical leader. "Of course I don't have it selected! You never told us what it was!" I glanced around in vain, seeking another means of wiping the last remnants of what could only be described as "wurm-goo" from my tunic. I eventually settled on Varesh's cape, much to her dismay.

Varesh's protests aside, I was about to launch forth with a bitch-fest of epic proportions when Xandra suddenly spoke up with her own explanation of our current status:

Xandra's expansive rationale for my cape being covered in wurm excrement

"Your mother?!" I exclaimed in disbelief. "Poor Gwen over there is knee-deep in wurm crap still and your reason for dragging us out here is a 'rumor' being spread about some woman you've never met?!"

"Be that as it may, we must proceed," Xandra explained calmly. "Don't we, Nature Carl?"

"Of course," our leader replied. "We have our own reasons for seeking out the source of that rumor; don't let his whining bother you. Just ignore him or else he'll just get worse."

I snorted in righteous indignation as they stalked away, pursuing some mandragors sighted off in the distance. Muttering imprecations under my breath, I had no choice but to follow, for I hadn't paid attention to where we had come from, and wasn't about to attempt to brave the wurms again.

The Carls trudge along, admiring the Waste's greenery and natural splendor

2 February 2008
Dear diary,

I don't know why I'm so drawn to Nature; perhaps it's that sweet ass and her gorgeous pants! One of these days I'm going to grab he---"Damn it nancy boy! I told you to stop writing in my journal!"

"You mean your diary?!" Virtuous replied in a mocking tone.

"My journal!" I exclaimed, glaring over the entry he inscribed--in pen, no less!--in the future bestseller of Tyria's literary world. I trust my editors will recognize this particular altercation as something to be removed, or at the very least, saved for the special edition DVD bonus features [ed: hee hee!].

As I grumpily stood and gazed about our campsite, I couldn't help but notice the lovely flora that surrounded us.

I admire the local foilage (note: it's pronounced fo-lee-age) of the lovely Waste

"How much longer is this trip going to take?" I whined to the ever-cheerful Nature girl. "My feet are sore and I could even go for some more of Tankarific's grog, the drunken bastard."

"Actually, we've arrived," she said, already thinking on which quest to do next. "Observe the splendor that is the ancient ruins!"

Our "destination": a pile of rubble, which apparently harbors Xandra's offending rumor

"That's it?! How exactly can this place be spawning any unfounded rumors about Xandra's dubious parentage?" I politely asked whilst attempting to wrap my hands about Nature's neck. "You will take us back now!"

"Indeed I will," she calmly replied, dodging the half-digested boots I had thrown at her (which I had inexplicably found in my pack), "for you see, we're filled with resignation since the quest is over. I suspect we will soon find ourselves--" she stopped and fell over, apparently dead, alongside Virtuous boy, who had done the same.

As I watched Varesh loot the corpses for any valuables (nothing but a huge pile of junk collectibles from Nature), I determined that this time, I would decide where the next step was, and it certainly wasn't following blindly to wherever I was told.

Upon returning to our sacred home, I softly packed a few bags, along with the note I had found in my pocket days earlier:

Godly Carl: If you ever feel so inclined, come out to Cantha for a vacation on the shores of the Jade Sea. It's lovely this time of year, and it'd certainly be a nice change of pace from harvesting corn with that blade you call a scythe all day!
--Otassin

I glanced back at my teammates as they haggled over the value of a rune found in those half-digested boots I had recovered. They'd never have to know. No one would. I could just sneak off and never return to that horrible land. I could make my fortune selling jade; there's sure to be a market for it there!

My scheme in place, I silently mapped away, leaving the nancy boy and his slave driver to play with wurms to their hearts' content.
***

As mentioned at the start of this article, any information leading to the captur--er, rediscovery of Godly Carl should be forwarded to your local Carl representative. And always remember: NEVER feed a Carl in the wild. That's how corn-related mishaps are triggered, and no one deserves that horrible fate.

Carl Circumvents Crustacean Crisis

2008-02-07T16:06:00.000-08:00

A recent sightseeing trip to the Jade Sea region nearly resulted in disaster as the Carlish Trio met up with what appears to be a crustacean of mammoth proportions. In an attempt to reason with the monster, Ghostly Carl was spotted approaching alongside someone with a hygiene problem that would make Pigpen blush.

Shown above: Ghostly Carl confronting the Crab. The hygenically-impaired one could not be reached for comment, nor did we care to try.

After some brief words, Ghostly Carl and the sea-mammoth appeared to reach a disagreement, at which point threats and childish mother-related taunts became necessary.

Ghostly Carl exchanges pleasantries with the obviously unreasonable creature

One onlooker of the confrontation was overheard saying, "that thar craythur's big!" He was not asked for further comment. Xia Bukpui, a more interesting witness, was later reached for comment: "Ghostly Carl obviously represents the ... pinnacle of Carlish ... grace. The remaining Carls ..., and indeed ... all people [or creatures--ed.] ... in general, could ... learn much from this ... shining example." It should be noted that Xia Bukpui remains the only known living witness after the monsters had departed.

After handing out autographs and taking part in several publicity-related photo shoots, Ghostly Carl commented, "these creatures just don't understand who they're dealing with. They're used to encountering slack-jawed yokels attempting to live in a town made entirely of jade! Suffice it to say, the Carls do not expect to be gracing this site with their presence again in the near future." She continued, saying, "If nothing else, it's damn-near impossible to grow corn out here. How do you people live?!"

Sage words indeed.

New Erotic Materials Shop Attracts Enthusiastic Patrons

2008-02-05T18:14:00.000-08:00

Tankarific Carl and another interested patron are lead to the grand opening of a new adult materials store by cloven-hoofed smut purveyor, Warped Antler Goatfoot.

Shoppers flocked to a new adult materials shop which opened up last weekend in the Asuran territories. The shop, which offers a wide range of books, magazines, pleasure-giving devices, artificial "partners" and a vast array of tonics and elixirs to assist in enhancing ones erotic encounters hopes to cater to the large population of local perverts and traveling heroes with esoteric proclivities.

An Asuran, perusing the vast array of explicit goat-based material.

The shop proprietor, Mr. Warped Antler Goatfoot, informed the Carl that a wide variety of explicit materials were available, though there is a heavy concentration on goat pornography as it is of great interest to the small, gremlin-like people who largely populate the Asuran territories. Said Mr. Goatfoot, "For a smug and intellectually superior people, the Asurans are heavy consumers of base pleasures. Inflatable partners are an especially big seller as they can be easily tucked into a backpack or belt pouch for evenings of erotic distraction after a day of unfettered carnage." Mr. Goatfoot then added proudly, "Most of them are modeled on my sister."

In addition to salacious materials and objects for goat fetishists, there is a small but stimulating collection of yak items for those who prefer fantasizing about plus-size companions and a variety of specialty items representing the indigenous species of all the lands indecent adventurers who visit the Asuran territories come from. Unsurprisingly, the biggest selling items are potions designed to aggrandize the various appendages of the male members of all species and the size of the mammary glands of females of all stripes.

The shop is open from 2:00 p.m. to midnight every day of the week and items of special interest may be ordered at any time with a wait of approximately 2 weeks for delivery. The shop takes all major items (e.g., rare dyes) in barter, the "horn" of any species which can be used to distill into elixirs or payment in gold. As a convenience to those who find themselves overexcited after exposure to the shop's wares, a large hedgerow is located behind the shop so that patrons may take refuge in a non-public place to "relieve" themselves.

Dizzy Carl Races Mnkys

2008-01-19T19:22:00.000-08:00

Sources confirm that recently dervish Dizzy Carl was seen racing Ban Draoia and Sir Bores of MnKy. The race began in Lion’s Arch and ended in Ascalon City with checkpoints in Beacon’s Perch, Ice Tooth Cave, Frost Gate, Yak’s Bend, Grendich Courthouse and Piken Square. Dizzy, however, chose to take a more scenic route. We spoke briefly with Sir Bores who was still shaking his head and wondering how he got so hopelessly lost.

Ban Draoia had been leading the race from Lion’s Arch to Ascalon City. They had traveled through swamps infested with bog scales and mergoyles. It was slow going for some time until they got to the Northern Shiverpeaks and the pace picked up through the ettins, the centaurs and the dryders. When they reached the stone summit and the ice golems; though, Ban lost her lead to Sir Bores who led until they reached Ascalon territory.

Once there Dizzy took the lead; she led Ban and Bores on a dizzy tour of old Ascalon. Bores was heard to remark that he hadn’t ever seen some parts of the map that Dizzy led them through and wonder aloud if he even remembered where they were going anymore. Dizzy promptly told him not to worry he was just embracing his inner Carl. Bores replied that Dizzy shouldn’t be allowed out without a map, a compass and a GPS system.

Ban tried to guide Dizzy somewhat while she was taking a nap in the dirt of the Diessa Lowlands. Dizzy, however, was proving extremely resistant to guidance. If Ban told Dizzy to go a little further along the banks of the tar river, Dizzy went in the opposite direction. Dizzy enlivened the race considerably by taking a detour through the Flame Temple Corridor where Charr abound.

By this time Ban had become so confused and totally lost that she had given up leaving Sir Bores and Dizzy Carl to finish the race without her. She was seen to be howling with laughter while listening to Dizzy and Bores as she watched the competitors cross the finish line.

Once again Dizzy has shown herself to be a true Carl. Only a true Carl could get two experienced MnKys so totally confused and ridiculously lost.

Inebriated Journalist Libels The Carl

2008-01-18T19:40:00.000-08:00

"Shing Jea Sherman" slanders Tankarific Carl during a recent foray to Tarnished Haven.

A drunken "journalist" from the Monastery Gazette stood in the town of Tarnished Haven and loudly insulted passersby. The so-called news reporter goes by the sobriquet "Shing Jea Sherman", and seemed to have nothing better to do with his time than to stand around making loud, slurred, and often derogatory proclamations about those who had the misfortune to walk in his general vicinity.

Sherman remarks on what he mistakenly concludes is Tankarific's obsession with displying and mounting preserved heads.

In addition to remarking on the addictions, questionable parentage, and body odors of those who unknowingly wandered into his field of view, Sherman accused the Carl of having a fetish for displaying the heads of decapitated foes. While the Carl possesses a great many fetishes such as those for smocks, wombats, corn, fancy pants, and nipple-dying, it possesses no taxidermic proclivity which could technically be considered a fetish. It's actually more of a hobby.

State secrets spill from the mouth of an idiot.

Though Sherman's random slanderous commentary was a nuisance, it paled in comparison to his troubling public announcements regarding top secret Carl behavior. In addition to talking about Tankarific's status as an Ebon Vanguard secret agent in a non-secure fashion, Sherman also rambled on about the secrets of corn, Koss's amazing Afro power and how it can be employed to scour even the most stubborn dried-on, burnt-on food in roasting pans, and, most devastatingly, where the Carl purchases its vast collection of sequined underpants.

Said Tankarific Carl, "we have ways of dealing with the likes of Sherman, though I'm currently too drunk to remember what they are."

Names Awarded the Carl Seal of Approval #3

2008-01-16T10:16:00.000-08:00

Fleck Grokspit

He of the Fanciest Pants

2008-01-15T10:54:00.000-08:00

The striking figure shown on the left is the long-heralded FancyPants Carl. Most known for his affinity for all things fancy (most particularly those pants-related), you can see that he has impeccable fashion sense. Note the bleached-blond and styled hair; the carefully crafted three-o-clock shadow that somehow seems to stay the same length year-round; the deftly painted purple man-nipples proudly displayed on his breastplate; and, of course, the striking pants (if so they may be called), adorned with enough spangles for a Vegas dancer and a convenient crotch-flap for plumbing-related emergencies. Yes, FancyPants represents a pinnacle of fanciness that most can scarcely dream of, let alone create. And don't be fooled; despite the fact that someone (obviously) created him, he cannot be controlled. Indeed, he is a force unto himself, fancying things up wherever he travels.

As promised, more details regarding he who bears the fancy pants are forthcoming; reported sightings are documented from regions throughout the Guild Wars universe. If you are particularly blessed (or happen to be carrying rhinestones), one day you too could have the chance to meet FancyPants in all his splendor. If this is the case, please try to refrain from staring lest your eyes be roasted like fine kernels of corn from the light reflecting off his splendid vestments.

Now, just as a teaser for things to come, I leave you with a brief glance at the wonder that is known only as "The Dance of the FancyPants":

Separated at Birth 2: FancyPants Edition

2008-01-15T09:14:00.000-08:00

Shown above: A man with fancy pants (not pictured) and a bad razor alongside a Guild Wars character. More details to follow.

Carl Delights in Planetarium Experience

2008-01-14T14:12:00.000-08:00

Tankarific Carl claps his hands in glee at the globe action at one of several displays depicting the currently known celestial bodies.

A new display in Nahpui Quarter was launched today as part of an effort on the part of Canthans to both draw more tourists to their dismal, shack-filled streets and towns as well as to educate the masses of homicidal, largely-unwashed, and incoherent heroes passing through the areas surrounding the capital, Kaineng City.

Tourists enjoy a stroll through the scenic and culturally rich areas of Cantha during a day trip before running off and killing things. (file photo)

A verbose Nahpui busybody with the self-aggrandizing name "Adept" Nai who frequently accosts those passing through Nahpui and yammers endlessly at them about things he thinks they should know and do was quoted as saying, "the local government and citizenry desire to share more with passing tourists than just grilled kabobs made from the diseased flesh of expired afflicted and poorly-made rice wine. We've even expanded our normal fare by opening the "Celestial Café" so that heroes can sample a greater variety of our cuisine. He went on to say, "we also wanted to share our rich culture and expansive understanding of the heavens, all 5 planets of it." "Adept" Nai continued to say more things, but the Carl was frankly bored by then and wandered away.

The Carl noted that a large part of the culture in the areas around Kaineng City appeared to include the hanging of tattered rags between buildings on laundry days, constructing ramshackle homes and bridges of dubious structural integrity from rotting wood, and fending off the advances of amorously-minded Am Fah gang members with breath reeking of afflicted flesh kabob who are inebriated to the gills on rice wine. Such gang members drop from the sky without notice and become violent when their advances are summarily spurned. Considering the various forms of "culture" in the area, being accosted by Am Fah is one of the highlights of the experience.

After fully drinking in the cultural "delights" of the areas outside the city, Tankarific Carl took a purportedly "educational" field trip to the new planetarium in Nahpui Quarter to view displays of the known universe, though mainly he just wanted to watch things spin and glow. After occupying himself for several hours by watching the brightly-lit, rotating orbs, Tankarific tried the new gustatory treats on offer at the highly-touted "Celestial Cafe". He pronounced the "Celestial Burger" (a patty of seasoned expired afflicted flesh on a sesame seed bun with "secret" sauce) and a "Celestial soda" (cheap rice wine) to be "barely edible", but "filling, sort of like having a cannon ball in the gut."

The planetarium is open 24 hours a day and admission is free. The Celestial Cafe will remain open as long as afflicted keep dropping dead of disease in the streets so their corpses can be recycled into burgers and the eyeballs squished into "special sauce."

Lessons in Carl #2

2008-01-14T12:45:00.000-08:00

Welcome to the second lesson in understanding what it is to be a Carl. If you missed the first lesson, you can go back and gain "wisdom" from it here.

Note, however, that intense exposure to Carl for long periods of time may cause you to develop a rash in your sensitive body parts. The Carl will not be held responsible for any disfigurement or discomfort that results from prolonged exposure.

Choose the best answer to each of the following questions (or do whatever you feel like):

1. Which of the following statements are true:

The Carl is never wrong.
The Carl is often wrong, but does not care.
The Carl is often wrong, but is always right.
The Carl redefines truth as it sees fit.

2. When shopping, the Carl will do the following if receiving incorrect change in its favor:

Keep the change.
The Carl never counts change.
The Carl can't count change.
The Carl uses a debit card and doesn't get change. Don't be stupid.

3. If the Carl could manifest physically, what would it most resemble:

A platypus.
A duck-billed platypus.
A pink duck-billed platypus.
A platypus-billed duck.

4. What is a codpiece:

Carlish undies.
A bit of fish.
We're not sure but the important thing is that you shouldn't look under one.
Something which the Carl wears, but rarely washes.

5. What is a Carl's food of choice:

Corn.
Pizza.
Corn pizza.
Grubs.

6. Which of the following words is most Carl:

Corn.
Smock.
Quark.
Nahpui.

7. Based on the information you discovered about the Carl in lesson 1, what do you think is its disposition regarding scoring of this test:

The Carl cares not for scoring.
The Carl wants to confuse you by offering these tests and making you wonder whether it cares about your score or not.
The Carl has already grown bored and wandered off to look at shiny things.
If you were a Carl, you wouldn't care what the other Carls thought.

Answers:

"3" The Carl delights in confusion and "3" is the most confusing answer. Therefore, it is the most correct answer.
"2" The Carl, while fiscally prudent and interested in grubbing for every cent it can get its greedy little paws on, is incredibly lazy.
This was a trick question. None of these answers is correct. If the Carl could manifest physically, the world would likely come to an end as it could not bear the incredible sight that it was beholding. Major religions would lose their believers as they would choose to kneel in supplication to the Carl.
"4" Washing your codpiece is for losers.
"2" While the Carl covets corn and seeks to hoard it for purposes you are not yet ready to know, it doesn't actually eat it.
While all of these words are very "Carl", "2" is the most Carl for patently obvious reasons.
"2" This one was too easy. The Carl is generous toward you in lobbing softballs so that you can feel better about your progress toward understanding the tao of Carl. Don't expect it to always be so lenient.

Fashionable Carl

2008-01-10T20:13:00.000-08:00

For the fashionable Carl, there are many options available, from the elegant to the frightening, something can be found for all.

For the elegant Mesmerizing Carl, The Granite Citadel, buried in the Southern Shiverpeaks of Tyria, was well worth the fight to get there there. Dyed a lovely burgundy, it is perfect for everyday wear.

She also found the effort to get the snooty Asurans to like her well enough to craft this elegant gown highly worthwhile. The yellow highlights stand out, and make this the perfect wear for hobnobbing with the dignitaries who are constantly begging Carls for help.
For those with a slightly more risque taste, like Tempermental Carl, there is the Krytan style. Found in Cantha in a small shop hidden away on Bukdek Byway, it is heavily guarded by knights who wish only their own ladies to have access to such an enticing outfit. Dyed a lovely silver, this gown practically glows, making it all the more distracting when fighting those Jade Brotherhood knights, and Am Fah assassins.
However, even Tempermental knows that wandering around in that outfit in the snow was just asking for frostbite, so she hunted enough creatures for the Norn seamstresses to find her acceptable so they would create for her this lovely fur-lined outfit, which is both warm and fashionable.
When Tempermental realized that the blinding glow of her Krytan outfit would occasionally also blind the henchmen she hired to do the heavy work, she decided to find something just as distracting to the enemy, but with more color. After searching mightily, she discovered in the outpost called Eye of the North a tailor who crafted this lovely yellow vision.

Confused Carl was after a very different look, although strangely enough, she found it in the same places Mesmerizing found her elegant gowns. For those times when she was going to be surrounded by minions (who really are quite messy) she wanted something a bit more protective than the usual. In the Granite Citadel, she discovered just what she wanted. Highly protective, and easily cleaned of bits of "jerky" aka her minions, she was quite content with this outfit for everyday use.

However, in her wanderings, she discovered something a little more fashionable and still to her strange taste. The Asurans created for her this unique outfit, which she promptly decided was her new everyday wear. Although her first outfit still resides in her closet, it only comes out when the heaviest of battles will be going on.
There is something for everyone, though getting to where you can get what you want can be difficult. For the truly fashion conscious however, no effort is too great.

Carl Hobnobs With Dignitaries

2008-01-09T02:29:00.000-08:00

Respected dragon ally Kuunavang chats amiably with Tankarific Carl at a victory bash in Kaineng City.

SOCIETY NEWS — At a party in the capital city of Cantha, the Carls rubbed elbows with some of the area's highest level officials, including the emperor, following a successful liberation of the area from the forces of egomaniacal, megalomaniacal, and just plain maniacal former imperial bodyguard Shiro Taguchi. While the Carls were asked to keep their elbows to themselves by stunned royalty, feathers ruffled by their overly familiar behavior were quickly smoothed by the liberal application of vast quantities of rice wine.

The celebration in honor of the triumphant Carls included an epic feast including corn on the cob, cornbread, Cornish game hen, popcorn, grits, corn tortillas, corn soup, caramel corn, maize wine, candy corn, Kournan corn chowder, and pie. One Carl was heard to ecstatically remark, "these Canthans really know their corn for a rice-eating people!"

Shiny, pretty, fireworks set off in the Carls' honor.

In addition to vast quantities of food and drink, the party featured a lengthy display of fireworks around the imperial court. Bystanders cheered at the Carls and expressed their gratitude at having been "saved" by the easily confused, yet peculiarly effective, heroes.

A phoenix such as those commonly kept as pets in the Emperor's court. (file photo)

The revelers danced, imbibed, and gorged themselves until late into the evening when the party was called to an unceremonious halt after one of the more sanity-challenged Carls started chasing one of the many pet royal phoenixes around the court with the stated intention of barbecuing it.

Deranged Elf Strikes Again

2008-01-07T17:20:00.000-08:00

A mentally imbalanced elf has once again attempted to inspire fear and mayhem. Previously, he hectored and killed native desert reptiles by pelting them with conjured snowmen. This time, his intended victims were the inhabitants and visiting tourists of the town of Augury Rock. While running constantly, the foul-smelling elf called forth a series of dark ghosts that gasped hauntingly and bared their hideous teeth and talons at all and sundry. He mumbled incessantly about wanting everyone's "corn with a 'k'" as he called forth ghosts from the sandy floor and sprinted in circles hyperactively. It is unknown whether he was drugged, intoxicated, or merely applying some sort of speed-enhancing spell to make him more difficult to catch.

Snowmen invoked by the wicked trickster in order to harm indigenous hydra. (file photo)

One witness was said to remark, "to be honest, the ghosts that that he called forth didn't last very long so it wasn't that big a deal. While it was a little creepy being surrounded by them for a few seconds, it was far worse being downwind from that disgusting little pixie." Another witness said, "I'd have happily given him a whole silo full of this "korn" if I knew what it was and had any to give, if it would have made him go away."

Authorities are asking everyone to be on the lookout for the nameless elf. He is reported to be about 4 and a half feet tall, weighs about 100 pounds and has a pronounced "ale belly". He has beady brown eyes, wears wire-rim glasses, and has a perpetually sour look on his face. He also may be wearing over-size novelty ears that are long and pointy or may be suffering from a disfiguring birth defect. His typical costume is a fur- and gold-trimmed green coat, red tights, and a large green and gold "dunce cap." He is also prone to dancing a jig with no warning whatsoever. He is considered to be irrational and very dangerous, particularly if you are a hydra or sensitive to the smell of unwashed, ripened elfin body odors.

If you see him, do not approach him on your own but hastily contact the proper authorities. If you must approach him, do so with a high pressure hose and a squirt gun full of liquid soap.

Elf Terrorizes Local Reptiles With Snowy Wrath

2008-01-05T18:22:00.001-08:00

A frightened hydra is hit with a deluge of snowmen.

A warrior elf wielding a sword forged of pure ice terrorized local reptiles with a lethal rain of snowmen. The elf ran around in circles screaming something about "3-headed squirrels" at the frightened hydra as an army of snowmen seemed to just drop from the sky.

Snowmen fall continuously from the sky in a heavy, cold rain of pain.

As the confused and increasingly unnerved reptiles attempted to fight back with their natural fiery defense against the snowy attack, the deranged elf started to stab at them with his icy sword. Witnesses on the scene who wished to assist the terrified reptiles were apprehensive about intervening due to the violent behavior of the elf as well as the offensive odor emanating from the tiny, green-clad, pot-bellied menace. A lack of regular hygienic practices is often a sign of mental illness.

The deranged elf chases a hydra with his icy weapon.

Hydra are native inhabitants of the desert areas of the Ascalonian territories and do not hunt humans as part of their normal diet. However, they are large and dangerous creatures with small reptilian brains that easily misinterpret incursions into their territories as threats. While they will respond if provoked, they will not attack if efforts are taken to avoid trespassing on their territory. The elf's reckless and provocative behavior could not be justified or explained as anything but mental instability or unadulterated cruelty to animals.

Lessons in Carl #1

2008-01-05T18:12:00.000-08:00

The Carl cannot be learned through a textbook or even a straight-ahead classroom experience. It must be experienced and understood through indirect teaching methods. You have to learn to see the world through Carlish eyes.

Since none of the Carls are willing to loan you their eyes, you'll have to re-train yours to view the world in proper Carl fashion. This applies to every experience in your life, but you have to start somwhere so let's start with superheroes.

It's not that we Carls have a fascination with superheroes per se. To be honest, we have a greater interest in the more exciting and colorful aspects of life such as funny names, wombats, and corn. However, you cannot begin your Carl lessons with something as incredible and sophisticated as the Carlish perception of corn. It's just more than you can handle at this stage of your development. So, you must start off with something very low on the importance scale.

For your first lesson, you will be asked to rate the C.Q. (Carl Quotient) of the superheroes pictured above. You should rate their Carlishness from 1 to 10 with 10 being the epitome of Carlish perfection and 1 being the mimimum universal allowance of Carl. Rate each hero below:

Show your work. You can write on your computer's display, or type up a comment telling us your thought processes. We won't read them, but we expect you to make the effort regardless. Do it now. Do iiiiiit!

.
.
.

When you're finished deeply pondering the C.Q. of each of these heroes, keep in mind that you've already failed part of the Carl test because a Carl never thinks deeply about anything. After you get finished hanging your head in shame and realizing we're laughing at you (if you were already a Carl, we'd laugh with you), scroll down to see the answers and calculate your score.

.
.
.

Thor: Thor gets points for carrying a hammer and having cool somewhat pirate-style slouchy-topped boots. He also has a nifty, woody-sounding name. He loses points for having long, blond hair like some stupid hunk of man-cake on the cover of a Harlequin bodice ripper. He also loses points for having what looks like a stove top appliqued on the front of his bodysuit (and for making me use the word "applique" in the previous sentence). He also eats apples to sustain his life force instead of corn and that lowers him on the Carl scale. Finally, his character is derived from Norse mythology and the Carl appreciates that sort of stuff. The Carl doesn't know why it likes it but it just does. Thor scores a 6 on the Carl scale.

The Flash: Violating the laws of physics scores big points on the Carl scale as we appreciate any unlawful behavior that doesn't actually get you arrested. After all, the Carl violates the laws of sanity. He loses points though because he's basically a guy who can run really fast. How boring is that? He also has tiny lightning bolts stapled to the side of his head and the Carl would prefer they were on his butt. On the bright side, his costume is cheesy and a little on the festive side. He's a hero and he's not afraid to show it by running around in a flaming red, skin-tight suit. The Flash rates 5 on the Carl scale.

The Tick: Okay, this one was a "gimme" so you could get a higher score. The Tick is clearly a 10 on the Carl scale. He rambles incoherently. He has antennae growing from his head. His rallying cry is, "spoooooon!" He's all blue. He's based on one of the most unappealing insects in the world and doesn't try to be cool or quippy. He is clueless and belongs in a loony bin. He's pure Carl distilled into superhero form. He couldn't be more Carl if he was doing the hornpipe and eating corn.

Superman: Superman is the most popular hero in America and is clean cut, well-mannered, hard-working, and devoted and that really hurts his C.Q. He's a 50's kind of guy who for some reason has a 60's kind of girlfriend. The fact that Superman is so clean cut that he's not cool gains him a point or two on the Carl scale, but choosing a girlfriend most people just hate and feel is a bad match for him cuts down a bit on his gains. No self-respecting Carl is going to condone Lois Lane. On the other hand, he wears his Underoos on the outside and that gives him big points. However, we don't like his hair. Nuff said. C.Q. = 2.

Calculating your Carl score:

Subtract the difference between your answer and the official answers given above. Find the sum of those differences and compare your sum to the scale below:

0-8: Carl Nirvana is at hand.
9-17: You've got potential but need some attitude adjustments. You've still got too much sanity left to pass for Carl.
18-26: You're starting to get in the swing of things, but still have a long way to go.
27-36: You've barely gotten started and probably really don't know what the Carl is but are just lamely guessing because you want it so bad (we don't blame you for wanting it, everyone does) and it's going to be a harsh corn-less road ahead for you.

Finally, if you bothered to score yourself, you're very likely nowhere near being a Carl. Doing math is effort and the Carl is not a fan of effort.

Who Is Carl?

2008-01-04T18:56:00.000-08:00

Many people upon encountering the Carl for the first time wonder who we are. Their curiosity is understandable given the attractiveness of the Carl and what I am sure is a strong approach-avoidance conflict regarding being a part of it. After experiencing the Carl for brief periods of time, people gain a modicum more of understanding of it as well as feel a little dyspeptic, dizzy and disoriented.

Despite having the great honor of associating with the Carl in a more intimate setting, most folks still do not know who (or what) we are. First of all, it should be made clear that, despite the fact that we all are Carl and all our names include the name Carl, we are not one person. In fact, I'm pretty sure we're not even all of the same species though I'm nearly certain we encompass all the three available genders (but frankly, I'm afraid to "check" and verify this fact).

Though the Carls tend to congregate in on-line games, they are not only represented by the three folks taking part in this web site nor are their dealings confined to playing any particular game (though at the moment, Guild Wars is our playground of choice). Some Carls are out there operating outside of the core group, but they are still a part of us as they, too, tap into the essential spirit of Carl as they go about the business of amusing themselves and others.

So, in answer to the question, "who is Carl," I can only say there is no one Carl, but many of us, and we all have the same goal in mind. That is, to have no goals and to never answer the question about who or what the Carl is in a satisfactory fashion and to leave all and sundry befuddled in their wake.

Large-breasted Giantess Derides the Carl

2008-01-04T18:00:00.001-08:00

A mammary-enhanced giantess named Jora belittles Tankarific Carl's fighting abilities.

The Carl, despite its magnificent ability to be confused and to get lost, is a potent fighting force. When the Carl needs corn or is simply bored and feels like wandering around and killing time, nothing will stop its ability to vanquish its enemies. Well, not nothing. Death tends to put a bit of a damper on things. Nonetheless, the Carl can send its enemies to the happy hunting ground when it feels like making an effort.

After a particularly effective campaign (much corn was gathered and many enemies now fertilize the soil with their odoriferous remains), Takarific Carl was dismissed as a mere "human" by the whining giantess who asked for assistance in the first place. Perhaps she felt her towering stature and opulent boobage would cow him into a submissive response, but Takarific is not amongst the mammaphobic (or as they say in scientific circles - "boobiephobic") of the Carls. In a cutting retaliatory move, he mocked her clearly dubious fashion sense and inability to neatly shave her bikini zone until she shut up and went away.

Names Awarded the Carl Seal of Approval #2

2008-01-04T17:55:00.000-08:00

Pehnsed the Loudmouth

The More Things Change...

2008-01-02T22:43:00.000-08:00

"The more they stay the same," or so the common sentiment goes. Public conversations in online games certainly seem to hold it true. For evidence, see Exhibit A:

As the largely indecipherable blob of what passes for English above displays, online chat is, has always been, and will apparently always be at least 1/2 typos, 3/4 curses, and 1/1 gibberish. In order to make this post more palatable to those with sensitive vocabularies, please note that I've included Fancypants Carl showing off his moves in the background. There appears to be some sort of lava demon checking out his mad skillz. The full range of Fancypants' gyrations will be documented more completely in a later post. The dance is simply too Carl to be described in this post.

Separated at Birth #1

2008-01-02T21:46:00.000-08:00

Virtuous Carl and Commander William T. Riker

Getting Jiggy, Carl-style

2008-01-02T16:22:00.000-08:00

Three transformed Carls and an elf mini pet get jiggy Carl-style.

According to the urban dictionary, "jiggy" as a term is "played out". The Carl agrees that all of these hip definitions are passé, but that doesn't mean that there are no Carl-appropriate usages for this term.

While the Carl concerns itself not with being "cool" or even "sane", it does strive to revive the customs and habits of days gone by which deserve reviving. One such custom would be doing the hornpipe. In fact, the hornpipe is the official dance of the Carl.

Unfortunately, none of the Carls actually know how to do the hornpipe so it is an official dance that is never officially performed though some day we hope to learn it and demonstrate our prowess for all the world to admire. Of course, most Carls have two left feet so there may be some tripping, collisions, and trampled toes, but that's all part of displaying your inner Carl.

The second best thing to doing the hornpipe is doing a jig. The only thing better than doing a jig is doing it as an elf. And the only thing better than doing a jig as an elf is doing it with other elves who have a pet elf. We present a photographic record of this momentous occasion for your personal enrichment. You're most welcome!

Dark Day for Dwayna

2008-01-02T14:08:00.000-08:00

As Carl has already pointed out previously, Wintersday has come and gone once again, and the denizens of Arena.net celebrated by opting to keep the winter going for a long time to come.

As the screenshot above displays, Grenth was re-elected this year by a landslide vote, making a complete mockery of Dwayna's entire campaign. This result obviously demonstrates what most have long already taken as a proven fact: clean campaigns simply don't work. Grenth attributes his victory to the advice of his manager, Castellan Puuba.

"Dwayna's followers spend year after year preaching the idea that virtue is its own reward--that good will always prevail over evil," says Puuba. "Our party takes a different approach, one that has proven so effective that we've won the last two years running. The Grenth re-election campaign runs on the simple platform: 'We are against those things that everybody hates.'"

This anti-hatedthings approach seems to elude the Dwaynian movement, much to their detriment. When asked for comment, Dwayna's campaign manager, Prince Rurik, responded with his own question in turn: "Why do people keep trusting me to know what's best? All I do is lead them into traps!" While this particular Carl cannot provide an answer to his query, one thing is obvious: the population of Arena.net has spoken, and demands a cold future. ... and more corn.

Where's Carl?

2008-01-01T17:28:00.000-08:00

This is the Carl you have to find. Find hiiiiiiiiim!

There's only one thing more fun than playing "Where's Waldo" and that's playing "Where's Carl?" Well, actually , that's a lie. There are a lot of things more fun than playing "Where's Waldo?"

Take a gander at the picture posted atop this particular line of text and try to locate the Carl hidden within. You'll need a sharp eye. Take a deep breath, focus on your inner Carl, aaaaaand GO!

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Okay, if your sense of Carl is too anemic to locate him, look at yon picture and get a hint about his general location.

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While his cohorts are knocked flat on their asses, the Carl stands strong and offers you a general hint of his locale.

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If you still can't find him, you seriously need to work on developing your Carl. The answer appears below.

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"Where's Carl" is not affiliated with the makers of "Where's Waldo (or Wally)" in any way. In fact, the makers of "Where's Carl" would prefer not to be on the same plane of reality as the fellows who invented "Where's Waldo" but it's not like we have a choice.

Embracing Your Inner Carl in the New Year

2008-01-01T16:55:00.001-08:00

Tankarific Carl (on the right) enjoys the shiny, pretty winter's day celebration fireworks during the gift shower in Lion's Arch.

Boring and mundane New Year's resolutions are anathema to the Carl. The Carl aspires to loftier goals and seeks to nurture its nature. If you'd like to develop your inner Carl in the upcoming year, consider adopting some of the following resolutions:

I will prattle to amuse myself and others when the opportunity presents itself. If the opportunity fails to present itself, I will do it anyway.
I will attempt to talk about monkeys or wombats on a regular basis and strive to incorporate some of their inherent uberness into my daily life...except for the part where feces are thrown.
I will demand that stores sell me corn. Even if they freely sell corn, I will still demand it. Asking for corn is actually more important than possessing it as wanting corn is a more important component of the Carl than having it.
I will not care about "winning" and understand that the path to a goal is more important than achieving it, particularly if that path is traveled with friends and a heavy dose of absurdity and nonsense.
I will take pleasure in the little things in life, especially if they are shiny and distract my attention easily from...ooooh, look at the pretty blue light on the front of my hard drive!
I will strive to confuse others except I won't actually make an effort to do so. Confusion is an integral part of the Carl. Effort is to be avoided.

Have a Carlish New Year!

Names Awarded the Carl Seal of Approval #1

2007-12-31T04:00:00.000-08:00

Grook Plugalug

The Dawn of Carl

2007-12-31T00:12:00.001-08:00

Many great philosophies and the ways of life which resulted from them were born from wisdom and wizened discourse between great people. The Carl was born from confusion and thus that state of mind is one of the defining characteristics of obtaining a state of true Carl. Travel with me now to the days of yesteryear and witness, if not the birth of the state of Carl, at least the moment that it acquired its name.

Shawn, Sharon, my husband and I were playing Diablo II on Battle.net when I started to receive messages from someone I did not know. Each of these messages (from someone with the name "Angel Kitty" or some such) were directed at "Carl". The messages kept popping up on my screen insistently:

AngelKitty: Meet me in a new game, Carl.
AngelKitty: Are you coming, Carl?
AngelKitty: Do you want to trade, Carl?

I knew that I was not "Carl" yet I continued to receive messages as if I were. After awhile, it became clear that we were all Carl and angelic messages were being sent to us so that we might begin to realize our true state of being through having it named. So it began, and so it has been.

Wintersday Tragedy Mortifies Some, Amuses Others

2007-12-30T23:55:00.000-08:00

While browsing the sights and patronizing the merchants in Lion's Arch, Tankarific came across this accident scene and noted the mixed reactions of on-lookers to the melted remains of one of their fellows. The children were waving their limbs and screaming as their bemused (and nicotine-addicted) parents looked on.

Tankarific wasn't sure of the circumstances of this incident, but due to the suspicious lack of interest by the local constabulary, he suspected that the scene was staged in order to shock the kids. This is exactly the sort of behavior that the Carl wholeheartedly endorses.

Carl Assists Errant Reindeer

2007-12-29T18:05:00.000-08:00

The Carl was employed to assist errant reindeer in returning home during Christmas. Here we see Tankarific Carl pausing for a chat with the confused, yet cordial reindeer. Since getting lost is part of possessing a strong sense of Carl, Tankarific expressed his empathy and understanding of the predicament in which the reindeer found themselves. The reindeer were seen to exchange concerned glances, perhaps expressing their doubt that someone who can't find his way for his own purposes could help them get home.

In related news, Tankarific also helped a mutated reindeer locate lost gifts. The mutant, who went by the name of "Rudy", spent much of the journey lamenting the lack of acceptance he was experiencing from his peers as a result of his unusual proboscis. While happy to assist in whatever way he could, Tankarific stood clear of the glowing nose for fear of radioactive contamination.

The Path to Carl

2007-12-29T17:07:00.000-08:00

Throughout the ages, man has tried to understand the Carl...or at least classify it in the DSM so it can be treated with psychotropic medications. Understanding the Carl is not an easy thing. On your path to Carlish enlightenment, you may feel a little discomfort, perhaps get a little dizzy, and feel an odd craving for corn. However, understanding the Carl is worth the long and difficult path because great power lies at the end of your journey.

Come with us, if you dare, and travel the path to Carl. With any luck, you'll start to find your inner Carl along the way.