truefalse.jpg“Dear BRK, if you’re in general chat, asking for help with Chok’Sul, and I’m on a bird heading towards Ironforge, but I answer you anyway and say I’d love to help and you end up sitting in town waiting for me for twenty minutes, are you going to construct a voodoo doll and let your dog rip it to shreds, hoping I’ll feel the horrible agony in some sort of sick, twisted, evil manipulation of the cosmos?”

Yes.

“Dear BRK, if I’m a level 15 hunter and I not only don’t have a pet, but tell you you’re a noob for suggesting I get one, are you going to construct a a voodoo doll and let your dog rip it to shreds…”

Yes.

“Dear BRK, if I’m a priest and we’re questing together in Dun Algaz and you keep dying because I refuse to heal you because I don’t know that I can heal other people, are you…”

Yes, voodoo doll for you, too.

“Dear BRK, if you’re killing the troggs on the island in Loch Modan and I, on my level 17 warrior, try to solo 124 of the guys, will you heal me?”

No. We’re not much of a Paladin, but we know enough about healing-attitude to tell you that much.

“Dear BRK, can I have some gold?”

Yes. Bring us 99 Light Feathers and we’ll give you 10 gold.

“Dear BRK, I meant, will you give me some gold now?”

No. We’re too busy making more voodoo dolls.

“Dear BRK, I’m a level 70 horde attempting to infiltrate Ironforge. Are you going to attack me on your level 17 Paladin?”

D@mn skippy we are.

“Dear BRK, what happens if I burn your Paladin-@ss into mulch?”

We’re going to log on BRK and make you wish you played Hello Kitty’s Party Island Adventure Party instead of WoW. Nothing personal, but that’s the way love goes.

“Dear BRK, are you going to keep corpse-camping me now?”

If we’re in the Auction House and you rez beside us, that’s hardly corpse-camping.

“Dear BRK, if I see the message ‘Astrannar is under attack!’ pop up 37 times in my chat window, what does that mean?”

It means Astrannar is under attack.

“Dear BRK, but what do I do?”

Watch out for Snake Traps.

“Dear BRK, what’s a Snake Trap?”

See that green, spiraly thing on the ground?

“Dear BRK, yes.”

Don’t touch it.

“Dear BRK, I touched it. Why am I dying?”

Because those five level-70 horde are playing peek-a-boo and you totally lost. You can’t lose much worse than that, so you can take some pride, there.

“Dear BRK if I’m guildless and level 19, and we hook up in the Wetlands and you show me how to tank while you heal me, and I offer my thanks and tell you this is my first toon, will you laugh at me?”

No. But we will offer you a guild-invite.