EPTI thought we might continue in the same vein:
To cheese, or not to cheese, that is the question:
Whether ‘tis Nobler in the mind to suffer
The Strain and Tension of exerting Macro,
Or to go proxy Rax on Shattered Temple,
And by pressuring end it: to lie, to cheat
Some more; and by cheap means, to say we end
The mid-game, and the thousand vexations
That Drops engender? ‘Tis an aggravation
We strive to forgo thus. To lie to cheat,
To cheat, perchance to win; Ay, there’s the jam,
For in that cheese of shame, BM invites,
When we have ruffled those opponents true,
Can give us sin. There’s the respect
That makes Insanity of such long games;
But who would bear the Barbs and Flames of they,
The Defeated’s cries, the baleful aspersions,
The remonstrance written, ‘good game’ eschewed,
The injuries of proxies, and the rush
That causes outrage in the expanding Zerg,
When he himself might his destruction make,
With a greedy hatch? Who would macro there,
To grunt and sweat under a fast expand,
When forward bunkers beckon us thither.
In fog of war delights, the bane of
All Queens and Lings enticed, puzzles the Zerg,
And makes us rather sly preserve the win,
A simper thus, then smugly type: ‘U mad?’.
But Cheesing does make Shirkers of us all,
And thus the Proper role of Special Tactics
Is overlooked, and naught but thought of points
And ranking figures in the mind of Terran.
With this regard our reputation smarts,
And lose the name of valour. So come now,
Thy fair and human race, act! At my instruction,
Be noble thus and Macro!
