Sven Lyndon: A Portrait

Most of you probably sit at you computer thinking: "Man this Sven guy has some opinions I definitely agree with, and is probably very attractive." It is true, I do have opinions you agree with. Unfortunately I am not attractive. My dating life is little more than a series of restraining orders or awkward exchanges with chicks who aren't turned on by the smell of beer on my shirt and an erection they can feel through my pants. My opinions are what matters.

I thank you for the support of my opinions, but what follows are fact. Just a little more information about "Mien Blogger".

I was born on April 28 1986, within the Zone of Alienation, just two days after the Chernobyl accident. The shock of the radiation sent my mother into a violent labor during her second trimester. Had it not been for our families proud Czechoslovakian heritage we would have left the Zone of Alienation for a capable, unradiated hospital. In hell would my parents disgrace the Czechs.

Before I continue my tale, there is a short aside that is worth mention. I have seven brothers who I share a birthday with. Coincidence? Serendipity? No, you are foolish and offend me for thinking fate could accomplish a feat this amazing. While Fate was sitting on a couch eating bon-bons, the world's most special holiday was "doin work". Breeding day.

Every September (sans my conception as I was born a full trimester early) my parents would lock my siblings and me in a ten by ten foot shed. We were allotted two gallons of chocolate milk and an unsliced pound of Oscar Meyer bologna. While we learned the pitfalls of inadequate resource management, our parents would get down to business. With a little bit of planning, and a huge amount of determination they would conceive a child within that day.

Six Breeding Days came and six Breeding Days passed. Each without an increase in rations or shack size despite our increasing numbers. A childhood of bland existence, seasoned with a dozen or so moderately-outstanding events, most not even worth mention in this post. There is, however, one exception. The highlight of my abysmal yet efficient childhood. Conception Day.

In keeping with the Catholic Church's beliefs the Lyndon family believes that life begins at the moment of conception. Celebrating one's birthday only serves to reinforce the left wing's notion that abortion isn't murder. Not that I am anti-murder by any means, I frequently celebrate and exercise our constitutional rights to end a man's life. A birthday is a complete obfuscation of ones true age. Birthdays are as real as leprechauns, Santa, and the female orgasm.

Through the marvels of science my parents had pinpointed the exact moment each of us were conceived. Each of us was then assigned our conception hour. During our conception hour, our parents would put a hiatus on their usual regimen of psychological challenges and calisthenics in order to asses whether or not our year was well spent.

Evaluations of our Strength, Perception, Endurance, Charisma, Intelligence, Agility, and Luck were made. My strength was consistently low, clocking in at a 4 out of 10. I did partially compensate for this at level 12 by selecting the "Strong Back" perk which increased my "carry weight" by 100 lbs. The low rating in strength was a constant challenge and it was not until I had obtained a set of Power Armour (which adds 3 to strength) that I was able to wield energy weapons.

Most of my early life was spent piggybacking off of my high marks in Luck and Charisma. With it I had a higher chance of critical hits, better random encounters, and things just seemed to go my way. Without luck there is no WAY I would have found the Solar Scorcher, the games most powerful weapon.

I am not sure exactly where this post was going, long story short I was born pre-maturely after a 3 day labor. In keeping with Czechoslovakian traditions I chewed through my own umbilical cord (each Lyndon to date has been born with a full set of teeth) and crawled from the birthing table to the crib ten feet away. This first test of fortitude is what every Lyndon has endured. It is more or less how I spent the first ten hours of my life.