How 'bout some IRL chess, punk? Meet me in the park. Bring a 40 of yarn and some needles. Winner takes all the porches. Loser gets whatever thing I happen to knit. And wears it for a month. In California.
You know, there is something oddly fitting abut that rarest of butterflies the Online Chess Aficianado posting a chess diatribe on this blog, the internet equivalent of the underside of a large rock sitting quietly in a nondescript corner of the world's most remote and inhospitable desert hellscape.
Though I would like to thank you for keeping your pathetic post-defeat tantrum short.