Monday, November 30, 2009

The Whole Truth About Me and Football

I think that it is finally time, in light of past events, that I make it abundantly clear why I don't like football. In fact, I hate it. It's like coconut. You can't make me "learn" to like it. I don't like it. I just don't. Here is the deep-seated reasoning with some case examples, putting aside my school of choice and the rival school.

Growing up, I had a friend named George (name has been changed to protect the innocent.) He was very much into sports and the like, whereas I was not. I preferred to draw, make up adventures to play, and be imaginative. I come from a family where a certain team is cheered for, as both of my parents were alumni of that school. We will call them the University of Red. This team, however, isn't very popular in the neighborhood in which we live. The other University is the University of Blue... the team that my friend George said he liked as much as the U of Red.

As a young child, I had no hard feelings for the University of Blue, even though they were a rival team. I was not instructed by my parents or taught that they were a lesser people or dumb or stupid or anything of that sort. That's beside the point for now, but will become important later. George and I played a lot. Over time, he played football with me. Now, I wasn't very athletically inclined at all. When we would play, he would claim to be the Blue team and I was to be on the Red. And you know what? He beat me every time. He ran circles around me. I lost every time to the blue team.

If that was the sole reason for my hatred of football... that would be extremely petty and childish. Actually, I should point out that it isn't the sport in general or the fans... but what it does to people. The monsters that the sport turns normal people into.

Time went on. The University of Blue, as it were, is a school that was founded by a prominent church leader of the faith I profess. Incidentally, so is the University of Red. The U of Blue however, maintained its status as a "church school", and for that I respect it and admire it. They have a wonderful honor code I only wish that my school had. The students there, as far as I can tell, are some of the brightest and best there are in the world. And to top it off, they have a wonderful Musical Theater program. The campus is clean, smiles are all around, and for the most part, everything checks out just fine. Until...

Football season begins. As George and I got older, he would "surprise" me with "facts" (more like blanket statements) about what it is Red fans do after games, like: "All Red fans go home and smoke". I know it sounds silly, but as a young child, it hurt to hear that George thought my family, my grandparents, and even the prophet (again, of the faith I profess) must surely fall into that category. I mean, I didn't even know what was going on in those games, or know a dang thing about either college, but what I did know is that smoking was wrong, and my parents were not smokers.

As George got older, things did not improve. I had another friend named Larry who only supported the Blue. Growing up, their behavior and attitude towards me grew more and more cruel. They constantly made fun of me and made jokes at my expense, even to the extent of Larry chalking my driveway and making many disparaging comments against me and my family. Some of those examples were along the lines of "prep palace", "nerds only", and other hurtful things. I would really like to give Larry the benefit of the doubt and say it had something to do with some kind of jealousy, but the sad truth is that it all stemmed from some inbred hatred my "friends" had for me because of what again? Oh yes. I didn't cheer for the Blue team. Keep in mind, I didn't say "I wasn't planning on attending the Blue school" or "Hated the Blue University and all of their students". I said I didn't cheer for their team. Which team? Which sport? FOOTBALL.

If it were only George and Larry, it wouldn't have been too bad. Unfortunately, my eyes were opened to the fact that to some people, team preferences determined friendships. I present evidence in the form of my older brother, who had two excellent friends throughout his elementary school, but once they "discovered" that he did not cheer for the Blue, immediately the friendship was severed. They simply couldn't be friends anymore. Yes, it is childish behavior, certainly, but that can really leave a lasting impression on a young man. Judgment had been passed on him due to something he really didn't control.

I too had my share of nightmare-ish experiences during my scholastic years. All it would take was wearing a red shirt to school and suddenly it was like I had a sign on my forehead that said, "Please say something about my shirt, and please make it as mean as possible." I tell the honest truth when I said that I feared wearing red or especially University of Red shirts to school. Suddenly, people would say terrible things to me. They would make fun of me. They would tell me to change clothes. One kid pushed me. Another mistreated me. Another insulted my family. After while, I learned just not to wear any Red apparel at all to school.

Growing older, I wondered why it had to be that way. Why should there have been such a polarization of people? We should have all been friends. We should have all loved each other. I thought George and Larry were my friends... until it was game time. I always wished as a child that some supreme authority would just combine both schools and end the senseless hatred. And it is just that. Hatred. Don't try and pass of my suffering and torture as "friendly competition" or "friendly rivalry." In fact, in trying to maintain my neutrality of schools, trying to prove that I could like either one just the same, I wore a shirt that was both Blue and Red. Of course, that got quite a wild reaction. Most people just looked at me in disgust, and others informed me that I just "can't do that!" I had done nothing wrong. I wasn't even a student at the University of Red. What had I done to deserve that treatment?

At first I hated the schools. Then as I matured, I realized school was not the source of the trials I was being put through. It was football. Nothing more and nothing less than football. Now, if it was just a matter of collegiate differences, it probably wouldn't matter at all. Joke away, jab or whatever.

The reason that it bothers me is the the University of Blue was supposed to represent my religion. The religion that meant so much to me suddenly turned on me come the "big game." I was no longer as good of a member, or as faithful. The jokes of Blue being the "Lord's University" or even worse, that their football team was "The Lord's football team" was not funny to me. I know God, and He is no respecter of teams, schools, or persons. If anything, He is saddened by how His children forget Him during those weeks and days that only a handful of His children are playing some game that should have absolutely no impact on the salvation of anyone witnessing it. And that is on both sides. It is not just Blue, and it is not just Red. Good, normal people suddenly become monsters. They point fingers. They play the blame game. They find fault. They tease, they insult, they hurt, mock, and even injure one another. It is so senseless. I don't think Blue fans are all bad people, and not all Red fans are bad people either. In fact, they're all probably very good people who just lose their senses.

I know there are some in the audience who might take my reason for hating football in general as a treatise of why I hate their school or them, but I made it very clear up front that I have nothing whatsoever against the school or even its students. Even if they had an athletics program, that would be fine. It's the contention and hatred and bigotry and everything else that makes me hate football. The funny thing is is that I never see it escalate to the level it does every year over, say, volleyball or gymnastics. No, only football turns the masses into monsters. Even those who are close to me suddenly find a reason to throw aside any inkling of good-naturedness or temperance to yell, scream, shout and especially hate.

I also really don't like football in the sense of what it does to families. Once the collegiate rounds are over, then begins professional football, which I hear can be worse or just as bad in terms of rivalries and the atrocities that people commit before, during and after games. You can choose how you wish, but I wouldn't pay to go see a football game on a Sunday, and inviting the game into my home is just as bad. Again, I don't judge anyone who practices this currently, but I will not have it in my home. It's noise. It's contention. It is unwelcome. It would pain me to be the type of father that comes home from church on a Sunday and just grabs a soda, sits on the couch and watches people play some game on a TV as if it really matters or affects them... ignoring the REAL people around him. His children, his wife... whoever.

So forgive me if I have a hard time cheering on my school's team, or any team for that matter. I don't know those people. They don't know me. I do know that there are people who use what those athletes dedicate themselves to as a viable excuse to cast off any gentleness, brotherhood or kindness they would normally express.

Do I hear cries of "hypocrite!" in the crowd? Yes, I realize that I wrote that I am against hatred, but hate football. If it would make you feel better, I could hate people instead if you wish. I could hate them, and teach my children to hate them. Then my children could teach their children to hate people who are different than they are as well.

"Love your enemies, bless those that curse you, and hate you."
"Contention is not of me, but of the devil."

Sound familiar?

So forgive me for not wanting anything to do with football. I will keep attending my school, and you can attend yours. I am not better than you, and you are not better than me for it. I don't want to feel obligated to support either team. I won't attend the games. You can, though, and please, have fun with it. If you enjoy it, there is nothing wrong with you. If football excites you and makes you have a great time, then keep attending and keep enjoying yourself! Especially don't stop going on my account! Heck, I like video games and stuff that you don't enjoy, so I will definitely grant you freedom to do so.

However, if you enjoy making disparaging comments about other people to their face or behind their back, if you enjoy seeing someone who isn't like you get hurt, if you smile every time someone who has a different viewpoint than yours falls from grace, then there IS something that is definitely wrong with you. And I invite you to wake up, look around you and within yourself, and repent.

I hope that we can all work together to make the world a better place. We may be all different colors of the rainbow, be it white, red, pink, blue (which is my favorite color, by the way), green, or black. It is when those colors work together, when they blend, when they cooperate that beauty happens. If every color on the spectrum was to be painted onto a canvas just to see which color was better than the rest, it would all just turn black. Black with hate, fear, misunderstanding, pain, and sorrow.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Quick Update

Well, what is there to say today? I think for the first time in my whole life I might just get something higher than a "C" on a Math Test. I'll let you know as time goes on.

Monday, November 2, 2009

The Lamest Dance Ever

Sit down all and let me tell you a tale of how our society and youth have declined. Maybe it's just part of growing up, or maybe it's part of the bubble I presumed myself to be in for so many years. Many years ago, I was once an avid attender of Stake Dances. They were such a grand old time! We would go to ask the wallflowers to dance to make their nights, get crazy with the disco (crazy as in dance something that is still pretty conservative), and participate in the Macarena, the (shudder) Boot, Scoot and Boogie, and make sure we found at least one or two pretty girls to meet and dance with... in a slow, refined, hand in hand facing-your-partner-and-actually-striking-up-some-kind-of-meaningful-conversation type way.

I left on my mission for two years, with fond memories of dances, with memories of what I learned in Ballroom Dance, Stake Dance visits, the every-once-in-a-while stomp, and Proms and Morps and everything else in between (except Sweethearts, which no one ever asked me to. Once. Thanks for nothing.).

Then something the heck happened. I came back and attended my first dance. I was invited by an anonymous cousin of mine because I had finally decided I maybe wanted to start having a little more fun and meeting new people more. I figured a Singles Dance was a good place to begin. When I arrived, it was dark and rainy... and 3 dollars later, in we went. Suddenly I wondered where all the cute girls were. I looked all around and pondered what that horrible noise was that was coming from the speakers. I wondered if I had even arrived at the dance... all I could see were people jumping next to each other with some completely unintelligible lyrics spewing forth from the deafening speakers. I figured I would meet people and ask a girl or two to dance and then peace out.

I waited and waited. What, is no slow song even going to play? I thought to myself. Turns out there wasn't to be one. Finally, after several requests, a slow one was played, which just happened to be the last one of the night. The volume of the music, however, didn't change. Our conversation went like this...

"Hi, what's your name?"
"WHAT?!"
"I SAID 'WHAT'S YOUR NAME'!"
"Oh! It's ......"
"WHAT?!"
"IT'S ANNA! (I think)"
"NO BANANAS, I'M GOOD, THANKS!"
"DID YOU JUST SAY YOU WERE.... oh, song's over. Thanks."

Yeah. That good. Later we had the opportunity to attend another one. It was on Halloween Eve, and was going until 1:00 in the morning at SLCC. We went to appease the same cousin. We got there, and lo and behold, it was a repeat of the first time. Only worse. Much much worse. Every girl decided that Halloween is a great excuse to dress like a skank, the "music" sounded like some guys chanting to a beat that NEVER CHANGED from song to song, and during the course of the dance, my cousin told me to go and meet new people. By "meet" he meant walk into circle and bump butts or hips or whatever was at my disposal below my shoulders with random sluts. Oooooookkkaaaaayyyy.....

I looked around. I asked myself "What am I doing here?" After that, I realized that I had no business being there whatsoever. Sure, I wanted to meet people, and I wanted to have fun. I happen to enjoy dancing, actually. Instead, I spent a lot of time dodging scantily clad girls (who I'm pretty sure were drunk) who just wanted some action and jumping at each other.

Moral of the story? Dances today suck. Bad.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Sgt. Frog "Pwns"

Okay, so this has been something that has irked me for a long time. Being a fan of anime (but not an "otaku"... really I ought to say that I love animation in general), I have come into countless forums and the like and run into people who hurl insult after insult at each other, swear up a storm or are just outright rude... and it's always the same complaint:

"THE DUB VOICES ARE TERRIBLE!!! THEY FREAKIN RUINED THE SHOW I HATE THEM WE SHOULD BOMB FUNIMATION blah blah blah punctuation doesn't matter anymore)".

A case in point: Sgt. Frog. It is known as Keroro Gunso in Japan, but is anyone but a couple of nerds going to understand that "Kero" is the onomatopeia (I am so glad I spelled that right on the first try) for the sound a frog makes in Japan? Yet, because "Keroro Gunso" doesn't directly translate to "Sgt. Frog" they act like a bunch of lame know-it-alls and complain. That's not the end of it. Funimation recently released a test-episode on YouTube for the English dub version, and again, all those otaku losers screamed, whined and swore about everything they hated. I, however, laughed so hard I thought my sides would split. I thought the writing was brilliant.

I wish otakus would realize a few things. The first thing is that some jokes don't translate well if at all. For instance... a character voiced by Megumi Hayashibara in a different series says, "Sekai no hakai o fusegu tame..." from the "Rocketto-Dan no Teema" from her role as Musashi in Pokemon... er... "Pocketto Monsutaa". I'm gonna bet that maybe two people out of 100 are going to get that in Japan (extremely forgiving odds, if you ask me), and maybe 1 out of 1,000,000 Americans would EVER get that. Look at how much I have to explain in order for people to grasp the joke.

Problem one: Who the heck is Megumi Hayashibara? Contrary to popular opinion, (Popular meaning the screaming whiny otakus who infest forums) basically no one knows who that is. Nevermind that from what I understand, she is a pop star in Japan and sings a lot and has played numerous roles from various anime series... very few people on this side of the ocean-sized puddle knows who she is. Also, do they know she played Musashi in Pocketto Monsutaa? Which raises another problem... who is Musashi?

Problem two: Actually, people over here don't speak Japanese (and chances are, otakus, neither do you). I can think of two people I know who actually do speak Japanese. Both of them served missions to Japan, and that isn't TOO uncommon in the heart of LDS Utah where people go on missions all the dang time. I for one, don't speak Japanese. If she said that aforementioned bit of dialogue in Japanese, I would still be thinking "What?" And even if I had seen the Japanese version of Pokemon, I would have no idea there even was the cross-reference at all. I doubt I would recognize the joke just from that one line. Only a select few understand that Rocketto-Dan (would you prefer I wrote "Locketto-Dan?") translates to "Team Rocket." Ahhh, now Team Rocket rings a bell. Oh yeah, and "Rocketto-Dan no Teema" means either "Team Rocket Theme" or "Motto." Actually, a lot more people are going to understand "Team Rocket", otherwise, unless everyone is taught Japanese, your average Joe is just going to think "Who or what is Locket Oh-Dan?"

Problem three: Man, I hate it when I'm looking for the title of an English dub for a show or video game on imdb and I have to translate the "Reiton kyoju to fushigi na machi" to "Professor Layton and the Curious Village." Romanization isn't that bad, I think. It's when you go too far and will only accept that or the original kanji as its title... that I get really annoyed. I don't read kanji. Not many people do.

Problem four: I bet you're all wondering who or what Musashi is. From the otaku perspective, everyone should know (isn't it common knowledge, after all?) that Musashi is the Japanese name for "Jessie" of Team Rocket in the series "Pokemon". Those jerks at 4kids, how dare they change her name from her Japanese name, Musashi, which is taken from 宮本武蔵 Miyamoto Musashi, a famous Japanese swordsman to something as "dumb" as Jessie?! Come on, doesn't everyone know about Musashi and his rival Kojiro (which happens to be James' Japanese name)? Guess what, 4Kids made a good move and named them Jessie and James. Gee, that sounds familiar. Jessie... James. Jesse James! The name of a famous American outlaw! Wow, and since they're criminals (well, sort of) the joke is amazingly preserved.

Four paragraphs. That took four paragraphs to explain. I will take up the rest of this post to express my love for Sgt. Frog.

Back when I was young, I would watch Animaniacs, Tiny Toons, Pinky and The Brain, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Gargoyles, DuckTales, Darkwing Duck, the Simpsons and the like. I watched Animaniacs and Pinky and The Brain to make me laugh. I found a simple joy in how Wakko would hit all kinds of stereotypes and celebrities on the head with a mallet. I watched the Simpsons for its witty dialogue and lovable characters. I got my fix for action with TMNT and Gargoyles. Sgt. Frog combines things I love from all of those series. Yes, I realize that pop-culture references, puns, and the like abound in the English version... but amazingly, the same happens in the Japanese... the funny thing is, I actually understand the jokes and puns in English. I am not mortified that the voice actors don't sound EXACTLY like their Japanese counterparts. I realize that a lot of the jokes are not direct translations of the jokes in Japanese, and I'm okay with that.

I absolutely love that I can tell that the voice actors have so much fun in the padded room with their roles. I'm sure with some of the lines they themselves laugh. I love how Keroro is delightfully narcissistic and arrogant. I love Tamama's split personality and larger-than-life yes-man complex. I adore Giroro's warmongering one-liners about violence, death and, well, war. Kululu's evil laugh is and "support" he gives to the platoon (which ends up being more malignant than benign) is also hilarious. Dororo... well, I haven't seen enough of him, but I know he's hilarious too. The writing is brilliant, funny, witty, clever, campy, and there is always a sense of poking fun at oneself during it all. It's not trying to be the greatest series ever created. It is actually the first series that I ever bought on DVD. And let me tell you, I have NEVER done that. It's also the first series where I've wanted to write Funimation and tell them how much I loved their series and to never bow down to the whiny otakus. I just hope they don't fire their creative staff and change their dub scripts to more closely match the Japanese version. Besides, that's what the subtitled version is for... to appease the whiners. They can continue to undermine the whole industry and continue downloading illegal fansubs and pander to their nerd clubs.

In the meantime, I will be wholeheartedly supporting Funimation's English release of Sergeant Frog by buying the DVDs and even the Sergeant Frog earmuffs when they come into stores... they're cute.

Friday, October 2, 2009

Meh

I probably should have said something in my last post about September 11th, acknowledged that it was Marie's birthday, or something. Instead I talked about Spanish and Video Games. Life is like that sometimes. Heck, I didn't even remember that it was 9/11 until I just looked at my blog today. In other news, I have found that I type like a million times faster when I am looking to the right of left of the computer. Why that is, I have no idea. Since I am at a loss for words or text, I will just go ahead and steal a blog post from one of my favorite authors.

"Just cut off a guy while driving. Didn’t mean to. I just didn’t see him when I switched lanes.
So the guy revved his engine and pulled up alongside my car to presumably give me the finger.
But I didn’t see his angry face. Or his angry finger... All due to my new visualization technique. Which is this:

Every time I anger another driver, I don’t look at him. Instead, I imagine that he is Jiminy Cricket. Singing “When You Wish Upon a Star.”Then I don’t get mad. Because it’s hard to be mad at a singing cricket.

This particular singing cricket let loose with a whole host of un-Jiminy-like profanities.
But that’s okay. I didn’t hear them. I heard: “Anything your heart desires will come to youuuuuu.”

Good ol’ Jiminy.

Stephan Pastis is a funny man.

Friday, September 11, 2009

I Wish That My Editing Options Were In English

We are nearly through the thirty days that September has. The only thing I can think to write on my blog right now is "I wish that I could have my blog editing options be in English. No really, that's it. That's all I have to say... well, that and Professor Layton and the Diabolical Box was a wonderful game that deserves every bit of accolade it gets. Now there's a cool word: Accolade.

Monday, August 31, 2009

College Really Is a Model for Life

I have discovered that college really is a model for life. I mean, I've been at it for a week and what has it done for me so far? Take my money and make me do things I don't want to do.

A good model for life, indeed.

Monday, August 24, 2009

I'll Never Make It In the Real Theater World

Two posts in one day? Amazing. Just amazing. I love theater. I have always enjoyed seeing plays and musicals. I love the satisfaction one gets from putting on a darn good show for a wonderful audience. The thrill of the opening night, the bittersweetness of closing, the art, the laughs, the applause... it's all so wonderful. Some people think I am good, and that I must, I don't know, "belong" on stage. That might be so. However, I have come to the conclusion that while I might belong on stage, I don't belong backstage. Here's why:

Reason 1- Don't freakin' touch me. Especially don't touch my butt. I have never been a very touchy-feely person. In fact, I hate it. I have a bubble, and you have to really earn my trust to get anywhere near it. Some people's bubbles are happy, clear, and sometimes reflect colors of the rainbow. Mine is made of acid. Additionally, I find nothing attractive whatsoever about the human butt. Minus the obvious, all it is good for is sitting on. And besides, my good mother once taught me to never touch another person where the swimsuit covers. It's just better that way.
Reason 2- My talking voice is staying where it is. It's not getting any higher, at least not if I can help it.
Reason 3- I won't tell people I don't even know I love them. Nor will I throw my hand in the air and say, "Oh my gosh, you're so cute!" Gag. Oog. Zug zug. Bleah. Unless I really want one, I don't want to be hugged, and I won't hug anyone else unless they want it.
Reason 4- I'm too grounded in reality. Plays really are just plays, and musicals are musicals. The distinct line cannot be blurred for me. I know myself too well, and I can play character after character, but once the curtain falls for the final time, it's back to me again. I mean, if I became the character I portrayed, I collectively would be a suicidal/abusive/angsty/nerdy/ruthless/romantic/wax-making/French-supporting TRAIN WRECK.
Reason 5- I'm not super keen on the have work-or-starve initiative.

Well, off to The Scarlet Pimpernel.

The Guy Next To Me Smells Really Bad

Aren't our olfactory senses just incredible? I mean, let's take a look at my current situation. I realized I have something along the lines of two hours until my next class begins, and I am in the University of Utah library next to this guy who I'm fairly sure is not a student... Or a hygienically oriented one, anyhow. This guy has that smell; that smell of whiskey, hard drugs, not showering for several weeks, and oddly keeps making strange noises.

Now where have I smelled that all before (and how do I know it's whiskey, hard drugs and BO?)? Ah, yes. Suddenly I'm on the streets of Costa Rica in an area called Ipis, which was considered to be the third most dangerous place in the whole country. Suddenly, I hear a gruff man in a sleeveless salmon shirt say something to me. He asks for a dollar (in English), and when we don't give it to him, he starts saying every swear word he knows in English. I think he only DIDN'T know, like, two. My companion starts getting angry. He yells at him. I just keep walking and thinking who all to include in my will. We walk a fair distance away, and the man picks up a loose piece of asphalt and throws it. He misses. Riback walks away with his black umbrella in hand, carrying it like a lead pipe in a fatal game of real life Clue, minus the mansion, and the color, and the... well, okay, the only similarity is a lead pipe.

And all of this I remember, because this guy next to me smells like the asphalt throwing dude. Just one whiff, and BAM! I remember everything. If only you could identify which mathematical problem-solving techniques one ought to use by smell. "Yeah, this one smells like a quadratic formula equation."

Smell ya later.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Why I DON'T Like Halo or the X-Box

Halo and X-Box, I've determined, are actually synonyms. As it so happens, I dislike them both. To get this rant started on the right foot, let me explain a few things to defend my position. First of all, I don't consider myself a "gamer". Sure, I love video games. I love Sonic, Mario, Kirby, Megaman, Final Fantasy and the like. I am really knowledgeable on video games as far as who made them, who composed the music, and a couple of other random facts... but it's not like I go and brag about it to everyone. That's "gamer" territory.

From my experience, to a "gamer", realistic graphics automatically equals a good game. Blood, gore, guns, and multiplayer functionality automatically make a good game. And the worst of it all, to a "gamer", virtually any game that has ever come out for the X-Box is the best game ever.

To me, the X-Box is that stupid little punk in High School that always thought he was really cool and made sure everyone knew it. Despite inward groaning, and to the disbelief of those who just know better, many people fall for that punk's act and assume he is cool. People start hanging around him. They dress like him. They talk like him, and the rest of the world wonders how in the world all that happened.

While I do like shiny graphics, I find that I enjoy the graphical presentation of Megaman 3 just as much as I do for Kingdom Hearts II. I don't automatically dismiss The Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker just because I can't count Link's individual strands of hair. The size of the eyes on the characters doesn't determine whether a game is for adults, teens, or little kids. As far as music and sound go, I like there to be some. Imagine that. I mean, sometimes I WANT to see a cartoony dragon fight some giant robot. Sometimes I WANT to escape reality.

Getting back to my disliking of the X-Box, Halo fits in to all the above categories. Blood. Multiplayer. Guns. Gore. Graphics. It's not like that has never been done before. People have been taking big weapons and blowing up aliens/demons since Doom... and that was made in the early nineties. I am really tired of people raving about how the X-Box is the best system ever (remember, that really means Halo is the best game ever to them; no one has ever bought ((that I know of)) an X-Box without Halo) especially when the type have never played a Playstation, a Sega Genesis or heaven forbid an original NES. So to those who think that Halo is the greatest, most challenging game of all time, I dare you to try Quickman's stage on Megaman 2. I will remember to laugh every time you die. And I guarantee that it will be a great many times.

Some gamer you turned out to be.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

I Don't Want to be That Guy

I heard a joke the other day. It went something along the lines of, "Once upon a time, a French poodle was having a lot of trouble and was talking about it to her friend who was a dachsund. Said the dachsund, 'Well, if you're having all that trouble, maybe you should see a psychiatrist.' The poodle cried out, 'No! I can't possibly see the psychiatrist.' 'Why is that?' the dachsund replied. Said the poodle, 'I'm not allowed on the couch.'" Then out of nowhere, that guy showed up. You know him. For some reason, this guy just had to go and explain and graciously point out that there's no such thing as a dog psychiatrist (funny how they never find it odd that dogs or other animals can talk, walk upright, etc.). They usually start by saying, "Well (pronounced, "wull"), THAT would never happen because..." and then they go and explain and pick apart a joke to death.

First of all, what is a joke? It is nonsense. The inane. Humor. Making that which would never happen come to pass with humorous results. It ought to enable dogs, cats, snails, frogs, vegetables or WHATEVER to talk, have families, jobs... whatever, much like the Far Side. (Although I'm sure Gary Larson got these sorts of people reading his work and complaining too.) So in short, OF COURSE it could never happen. That is the nature of a JOKE!

I never want to and thus will never be that guy. Go ahead, invite me to your parties. I promise I won't ruin your best (or worst) jokes.

But the more I think about it, shouldn't that poodle have been speaking French?

Monday, July 27, 2009

Kevin's Random Rants Introduction

Greetings one and all who may stumble upon this blog. Now, I know what most of you are thinking... And you're right. I am not one who necessarily enjoys blogs, blogging, or hearing what people I don't know think. (If you came across this site looking for something cool, well, I feel you. Been there, done that, wasted my time on too many blogs that were totally not what I was looking for.) I'm not sure what came over me, but I just decided to make this blog, and that is that. For those who peruse this blog, let's get one thing straight. I'm not trying to make you care what I think. I'm not going to present my point-of-view as what's "right" or "wrong" but instead to just present my way of looking at some of the quirkier things in life we all face. Be prepared for bad jokes, humorous anecdotes, video game reviews without all the pretentiousness and... well, as the blog suggests, random rants. Let's see where this goes.