Chess Master Kasparov Beaten by Level 2 Cleric

he humiliation continues for human chess king Garry Kasparov this week, who lost Friday's game after continually tying computer chess master Deep Junior, a disappointing end to the "Man Vs. Machine" chess series, 16-year-old D&D enthusiast Ronald Wolsey stepped forward Saturday to reveal he had been playing for the computer.

"My conscience has forced me to announce that I have been playing the 'Deep Junior' side of the recent chess matches," Wolsey stated in a written e-mail containing numerous spelling errors. "The deceit was not intended at first, but I wish I had gone public with the truth sooner. I will surely loose some character points for this subterfuge."

Match observers speculate Deep Junior creators at IBM worried about the computer losing and proving inferior to its predecessor Deep Blue after the first game, which Kasparov dominated and judged to offer a draw rather than pursue it to a possible loss. The idea likely occurred to route the chess-playing program of Deep Blue through to the newer model, the original computer that beat Kasparov in 1997 and now owned by chess master Karl Wolsey.

The plot was estimated that with Wolsey's help and an Internet connection, Deep Blue would best Kasparov again and demonstrate the computer's superiority. However, the wrong computer was connected to the match and Karl Wolsey's son Ronald, a Dungeons & Dragon fanatic and occasional chess player, matched the world's greatest chess mind move for move.

Until Friday afternoon, when the junior Wolsey put Kasparov in check with his knight in 43 moves.

Upon the surprising move, Kasparov flipped up the chess board and swore in Russian to the effect of, "I don't believe this bullshit!" When told of the true identity of the computer, the sport's leading player insisted Ronald Wolsey is a future chess genius in the making. Wolsey, who is repeating the tenth grade and has recently flunked his driver's test, would neither confirm nor deny the assessment.

"Chess is fun," said Wolsey, popping a zit near the corner of his eye, "but I have more important things on my mind. In addition to my growing cleric character, I plan on introducing a new wizard character later this year, the first time I've used multiple characters since moving to Advanced D&D. If things are looking better around summer—i.e., I get my license and dad gets off my back—I'm considering writing my own adventure and being GM for it."

Though chess aficionados are calling for a re-match, face to face, between Kasparov and Wolsey, the young opponent is somewhat agoraphobic and says he would not feel comfortable in front of the large audience of 10 or 12 that would come to watch. In addition, Wolsey doubts his chess ability would be at its peak if there were girls in the room.

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You ever had this "cereal"? I hope so, because I for one hate to suffer alone. I'm serious, what ever happened to Rice Krispies or Fruit Loops? Now those were some cereals. None of this roadside gravel bullshit. It doesn't even talk when you eat it. Even my ex-wife did that. And fun fruit flavors? Don't let the "Grape" part fool you; the only fruit this crap tastes like is Heath Ledger. Boring.

Life is like a bowl of Grape Nuts, and by that I mean it sucks. Sure, it comes in a lot of flashy packaging, and there's a wombat on the box, but inside it's just a bag of dirt from Nevada. Kids? Had 'em. Jobs? Did 'em. Movies? Slept through 'em. Transexual adventures? Saw a 20/20 on 'em once. Didn't seem all that appealing.

You know that song, "Shock the Monkey"? I tried that once. Went down to the zoo in 1985 and told one of the apes there'd be Republicans in the White House for the whole of his natural life. He threw a rubber T-bone steak squeeze toy at me. I still don't know what that song was about.

When I was a young man I wanted to be a lumberjack. Can't remember why, must've been all those "Don't Be a Fag, Cut Down a Tree!" ads that were on the radio at the time. Anyway, I thought that might just be a good life. Spending all your time out of doors, getting nature back for every time it had rained at an inconvenient time during your life. But there was one thing I hadn't counted on: cutting down trees is a goddamned lot of work. I'm serious, it's not like in the cartoons or those lumberjack video games, where you swing the axe with one hand and the tree goes down like a huge stick of warm butter or a horny teenager at Crystal Lake. Those goddamned trees have their mind made up about standing, and it takes some serious convincing to get them to see things your way. It's a battle of wills and the chances are good you'll decork your spine before the tree even starts to lean.

That's when I got the idea to cut the whole process short and cut to the chase with a couple sticks of dynamite. Now that's speaking a language trees can understand. When you say jump, they do, and cartwheel end over end for good measure. But as you might imagine, there was some serious resistance to my startling new innovation in the world of lumberjacking, as there always is when a brash newcomer struts in and turns things on their ass. And you know those big Brawny paper towel meatheads didn't want some skinny mug with a dynamite connection horning in on their racket. That, and there were some problems with not being able to find the tree after the dynamite went off, since depending on the prevailing winds it could end up a half-mile in any direction, and they always seem to build elementary schools at the most inopportune locations. And there was some jabber about 90% of the usable wood being destroyed in the explosion, as if their meathead-and-axe system worked flawlessly right out of the gate.

I wasn't a lumberjack for long. Didn't exactly shock your monkey with that one, did I? Yeah, the lumberjacking industry and I decided to go in different directions. I learned the lesson that there are some dreams too beautiful for this world to handle, and they learned… come to think of it I don't think those meatheads learned a damned thing. Nuts. I hate coming out on the wrong end of a learning experience. But like I said, life's a bitch and all she's serving for breakfast is Grape Nuts. Would it kill life to make French toast? I doubt it. But that's life for you.

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Slow week here, my boss is still out recovering from a belch so violent he had to change his pants afterwards. I'm no doctor, but I think that means you've been eating too much red meat. Hey, I should have that printed up on a shirt. "I'm no doctor, but I think that means you've been eating too much red meat." That would be snazzy.

I think "smuggle" is perhaps the dumbest-sounding English word that I can think of right now. "Bloat" is pretty gross, but useful. I've never liked "chard."

Now for a message from the US Postal Service:

Through rain, sleet or driving snow, we will damage your mail. That is our pledge. Thank you.

And now we're ready for our next contestant here on Reflections of a Goocher, Ms Myra Drizzle from Upper Carpathia. How are you today, Ms—Jesus, she bit my arm! Somebody get this crazy bitch off me!

Let this be a lesson to all our readers, wear a suit made of fruit roll-ups sewn together with licorice thread at your own considerable risk. This dry cleaning bill alone is going to be insane.

Let me be the first to say that Rudy Bega would be a really funny name for a kid. Now I've just got to find a guy named Bega to marry, and some hard-up girl to be the baby farm. This might take all afternoon.

And now for another brief word from our sponsor:

Assholes everywhere agree, Crest is America's #1 toothpaste. Crest: Keep smiling, assholes.

Personally, I don't think they should put people to death just because they're ugly. What's that? They don't? Well good, I'm still against it. For now.

Hold on, looks like we're going to have to start the call-in segment of our show a little earlier than normal! Caller, you're live on Reflections of a Goocher!

Caller: Yeah, Stu, do you know where that RXL2B form that was supposed to be filed last Monday went to? I can't seem to find it in the paperwork for that file.

SU: No, I'm sorry caller! The correct answer was "Afghan Panties." I'm sorry to say you haven't won a trip to Monaco or Bedwetting for Dummies. Better luck next time!

Caller: Uh, St— *click*

Oh, looks like we lost the connection. Anyway, I'm going to make this getting out of here a reality before this last dogsled team leaves for the parking lot. Until next time, keep sending in those cookies shaped like famous composers, and I'll keep eating them. Now mush you Malamutes! Mush!

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