George Bush announced minutes ago that Judge Samuel Alito (someone beat me by a fraction of a second to post this on Wikipedia) was his next nomination for the Supreme Court. The article there is no doubt set to expand rapidly throughout the rest of the day, but at the time of this writing there is enough information there to prove that he isn't right for the job.

He voted to uphold a law that would prohibit a woman from having an abortion without first telling her husband.

Say what you want about the abortion issue. It's not really the point. In a country that at the moment respects a woman's right to have an abortion, this law, and the nomination of one who would support it, was a blow against feminism and equality, and it will not stand. More as the story unfolds.

So it turns out that Winter was just nipping in for a bit of a laugh.

Mark Twain once said that if you don't like the weather in New England, wait ten minutes.

I noted earlier that I was trying to find a name for the hard, more-cooked edge of the brownie pan. For lack of a better word, I will be content to call it browniecrust, and should I ever come upon a fitting word that needs a meaning, I'll do what I must.

As I'm going to be working quite a lot during the holiday push at Sam Goody I might not end up doing NaNoWriMo, but I fully intend to complete something of the sort on my own time. My thoughts are either a work of Gonzo journalism or this scifi idea I have mulling around in my head.

The latter might be better suited as a graphic novel or a webcomic. That line of thought, however, is operation under the assumption that I can get an artist to work on it with me. I'm not sure I've mentioned this here, but I have written for two separate webcomic projects. One lasted three strips, none of which bore any resemblance to what I wrote. The other lasted about ten strips, but none of them were ever posted. But the field is juicy, and I'll almost have to try again at some point. I wants me some of that phat T-shirt cash. the audience is nice, too.

So yeah, that's all for now. Later, all.

It was snowing as I went to work today, and raining as I walked home. Winter in New England brings only bad weather and Super Bowl championships, and for the first time in a while I'm not confident in the latter. I'm not greedy, though. A World Series last year, three Super Bowls in the past 4 years; these are good times to be a sports fan in Boston. Had you told me four years ago that soon the Celtics would be the Boston team gone longest without a championship I would have called the white vans on you. (I am not counting the Bruins because the NHL is not a professional sports league but rather a bunch of mindless punks who, while not necessarily first against the wall, will be up against the wall in due time when the revolution comes)

I got a bit sidetracked there. Actually I forget what the bloody fuck I was talking about. And I tend to talk too gorram much about sports here.

Well, I'll just wing it.

There is, as I have discovered, a website where one can play Rock, Paper, Scissors online. It is here. I've become rather addicted.

Rock, Paper, Scissors is often missrepresented as a game of chance. It is not. It is a game of strategy and of psychology. It is about reading people. About figuring out, for example, if someone is likely to throw a rock after losing with paper, or what someone is likely to lead with. Also crucial is deciding whether or not repeating after a draw is a good idea, and what to do if your opponent repeats as well. Of course, doing this is harder when you aren't face to face with your opponent, but it can be done.

Why on earth would I bother to think that much about Rock, Paper, Scissors? There is a reason. It began in high school, when one of my friends invented a new means of civilized violence: Ultimate Rock Paper Scissors, which abode by the standard rules of the game but with one errata: after each throw, the victor slaps his opponent. The contest is decided when one of the combatants gives up. The game was a test of three things: The force with which one could slap (because while at the beginning it usually isn't as hard, eventually everyone gets to a point when they go all out), the amount of slappage one is capable of withstanding, and the skills mentioned in the previous paragraph.

I was, and I believe still am, damned good at it. In fact, I have only been defeated once. And the guy who did so was a freak. We went back and forth for what was I believe the better part of two hours, and neither of us would back down. This guy had fucking braces. His mouth was bleeding and in fact being cut further with each slap and still he continued. As I was strategizing, slapping, and getting slapped, I realized that the only way that this would end was if I knocked him out or backed down. Otherwise, it would likely end with me slapping the sharp wire from his by then unwound braces that protruded from his cheek. I figured it best to walk away. To my knowledge, no one has challenged him since. I've been challenged twice since then, but both challenges were quickly withdrawn when my face gave away just how delighted I was at the prospect of a match. To be fair, I wasn't trying to hide it, and in fact one of the times I used it as a tactic to avoid getting my face repeatedly slapped after having hit my cheekbone on a waterski on an attempt to get up on one ski the weekend before. Intimidation is fun, and I have it going for me in two ways: One, I'm huge, and the other, I give a mean crazy-eye.

So I thought I was going to have news to give, but due in a large to my laziness, the something that was going to be revealed is not complete. To avoid undue suspense I will reveal that I have already told some of you about it.

I guess that's all for now. Hopefully there will be something to report later.

Mahalo

...Or was there? Don't get me wrong, I'm all for Miers walking away, but that's not the point. This could easily have been a ploy. In an administration where CIA agents get outed for speaking out against a war that was approved based on (quite possibly and I believe probably) faulty intel, you cannot afford to rule any treachery out. And yes, indictments are great, but the damage has been done for the most part, and the ratio of indictments to total number of criminals within the Bush administration is hardly anything to cheer about. Normally I'd be reaching into a big ol' bag of Hunter S Thompson quotes, but I figured I'd mix it up. We'll start with the only tangentially relevant

Sir, you claim to actually be the true author of all of Shakespeare's works?"
"Yes, I do".
"But sir, how could you have written them if we have evidence of them being performed well over 300 years before you were born?
"...Well, I must admit, that point is where my argument falls through. To be honest, I was hoping you wouldn't ask that one...but you're much too clever for me."

Monty Python

to the somewhat closer to the mark

It could probably be shown by facts and figures that there is no distinctly native American criminal class except Congress

The citizen who sees his society's democratic clothes being worn out and does not cry out is not a patriot but a traitor.

Mark Twain

The reason I'm citing quotes now is that I'm not sure I have anything more to say about this situation. I have spoken rather a lot about these people and I cannot stress enough that if their actions did not have a direct and palpable effect on our everyday lives I would consider them to be below my mention. For a long time I have simply not known what to say.

Today I say that perhaps now we have a chance to right some wrongs in 06. To break the stranglehold of corrupt politics and replace it with hopefully less corrupt politics.

I'm being cynical. It's kind of what I do here.

It looks like I missed the boat for seeing Serenity in theaters. I didn't see that one coming. The most accessible showing for me is in another state. I'm seriously considering it. In any case this is not cool.

So I'm thinking of stirring things up template-wise. Not quite sure to what effect. Also I have a few ideas percolating, one of which is blog-related. More on that as it develops to a point where it can be revealed.

Perhaps I'll post again later, but as per usual I wouldn't take odds.

Oh, and before I forget, Transience has shown me some linkage love, and reciprocation can be found to the right.

You know, I hadn't meant for that to sound dirty...

And also now that I look at this post it's more to the right and up...

My memory fails to remind me if I've ever blogged on the topic before now, but I spent seven years of my life in the Boy Scouts. I am an Eagle Scout, and I count becoming such as thus far my greatest accomplishment. A little while back, one of my younger friends was formally awarded the rank. I saw him up there on the stage as others sung the praises of the (by now tired to my ears) of the institution of Scouting, remembering all the time that I was here for him, trying not to feel like a hypocrite, and remembering how I felt like a hypocrite when I was in his seat.

Now don't get me wrong, I still consider joining Scouting to be one of the better decisions I've made in my life, and much like Christianity I agree with nearly all that it stands for, but I have some serious problems with the institution (even beyond those uniforms... I mean they say that a woman loves a man in uniform but I would call into question the taste of whoever applied that to the Scout uniform), and were I completely up-front about my beliefs when I had my Eagle board of review the institution would have had some serious problems with me. But what touches us closest shall be last served (obscure reference; recognize it and earn my favor).

There was a part of me that felt like I was betraying one of my best friends when I accepted that award. He didn't think so, but that's hardly the point. While less intolerant than many organizations, the attitude that Scouting holds in regards to gays is still improper (and while I understand that some of the ink on the subject has been rescinded the attitude remains similar as I have understood it... I may be wrong but whatever. I have another issue to fall back on.)

The other reason I felt like a hypocrite is because of religion. I knew the God question was coming when I was under review for Eagle Scout, and I knew what to say, but I still wasn't entirely honest. I said that it was my belief that God is love and that that to attatch any doctrine to that belief was to risk distracting from that ulitmate truth. They weren't thrilled, but it fell within the lines of belief in a supreme being and they had to pass me. For the record, that wasn't an untrue statement because I never explicitly said that I believed God to be more than a fictional concept, but I will not honor myself to be an equivocator. Had I told them what I really believed, that the only source of divinity in this universe is love and that it has in itself no will and no omnipotence, then I would be short one major life's accomplishment. Or rather, I would be short the recognition for said accomplishment and therein lives the motivation behind my equivocation.

I worked hard to become an Eagle Scout. I'd be damned if I didn't get recognized. And furthermore, positions on religion and homosexuality aside I agree with the teachings of Scouting; that one ought to be trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, kind, obedient (well, maybe not), cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent (note it does not say religious. I am for a great many things quite reverent. I'm also irreverent at times but that is neither here nor there). I believe in the culture of outdoorsmanship; of survival. I believe that the comradery is healthy, and that the lessons in teamwork and leadership are vital.

And I had some great memories. My first job was working at a Scout camp as an aquatics instructor and a lifegaurd. The only time I've ever been naked in public was during a Scouting trip (it was a foul prank, and there were girls around as it was a coed outing. Also it was November, so... yeah. Not so much a "good memory" as a funny one) It was skits at the campfire that kindled my love of acting, and campfires that kindled my love of fire. The time I spent in the wilderness gave roots to my environmentalism. Were I 11 again, I would certainly join the Boy Scouts. I just don't know what I'd tell the people on the board. And I'd certainly encourage any future son of mine to join. I'm just not sure what I'd say to him about the religious aspect. Hopefully I wouldn't need to talk to him about homophobia, but I won't take odds.

In the end I guess it was better that I made my equivocation. Because despite what they said the day of my ceremony, that day was not for me. It was for my parents. It was for the people who helped me along the way. It was for all those who loved me who wanted to be proud of me. It was for the younglings on the way up who needed an example. It was for the sponsors of our troop, so they could have an oppertunity to feel good about what they helped to create. I made that revelation during the drudgery of the proceedings and that was what made me smile.

So the lesson of this is the lesson of, sadly, just about every institution of which I have been a part. Seize the good, and take it forth with you. Leave the shit behind.

I just don't sound right tonight. Which isn't to say that there's anything wrong with my voice-- it's still sexy as ever-- but rather my narrative and conversational voice seem to be off, and I don't think that in my current state I would be able to do the topic I was going to blog on justice. So I guess there's a strong possibility that I'll never blog about it and leave all of you wondering what exactly it was I was going to talk about. Wondering, or not caring I guess. I mean you can't care about everything

either that blog poll thing never swung by or else I didn't get seen because I buried my opinion of Miers but suffice to say I will never cease in my opposition. Well, I will when the matter is settled I guess... There are so many things about it that would by themselves carry the weight against her nomination that I don't quite know why there's even a discussion but then I realize just how many people think that I hate America.

So I might have a fever coming on and I know I have a headache so I'll probably go to bed right about now but I'm making a note right now that my laptop is once again in the shitter, though is at the moment intermittently useful. I think the problem is that it got overheated and fried its RAM.

So yeah I guess I'm done here. Peace.

and I hold to that. This is not that post however, as I have not slept yet. This one sprung up from a conversation with Aerynn, who I introduce in the post below.

Regard this Muppets clip. There are things I will say of it.

Aside from the classic, catchy tune, and the as always enormously entertaining muppeteering, there is a deeper layer.

Let us work backwards.

The Beatnik dude ran away from the identical pink creatures for some reason. a possible question is do they exist at all; he's certainly the type that might be on acid, but Kermit's interaction with them and the phone call at the end change that.

It should be noted that while bizarre in appearance they are concrete in comparison to the beatnik. Comfortable even. Their movements are more rythimic. Their harmony is consistant. They have a pretty firm grip on the world around them. Now let's take a look at the two of them. Colored pink, with mascara, eye shadow (or perhaps black eyes?) and yellow lipstick, they are clearly feminine.

to recap, they are on the surface different in every way from anyone else on the outside and yet are behaving normally than the beatnik, who while also bizarre, is more humanoid.

The signifigance? The two pink things are lesbians, and the adopted parents of the beatnik, who as a result of being surrounded by femininity and outlandish physical form has done his best to emulate his parents, wearing a fuzzy dress that hides his legs, which his parents do not posess posess.

It should also be noted that he has not thrown his masculinity out the window; whereas if he were setting out to completely feminize himself he would have chosen a pink dress he chose green, and furthermore went out of his way to grow a beard that is impossible not to notice. Like any son he simultaneously embraces and rebels against his parents, as is encapsulated by the song. He sings his part, but wanders off from the beaten path. Look at his parents. They are not amused, and he knows it.

Their annoyance intimidates him and stifles him at first, but in the end his resolve grows strong. He leaves the oppressive musical stylings of his parents and runs away from home. And naturally, he calls back. But he is not asking his parents to pick him up at the bus station as one might guess. He calls back to get the last words. His parents are shocked, and have no response. He has won.

I updated my links. As usual, it took a signifigant shove to persuade me to do so.

This time around it was my dear friend Aerynn's return to the blogosphere. If you enjoy my writing, I believe that you will find hers to be immensely appreciable.

Alice has words about Miers. She is being a lot more tactful in this matter than I have any inclination to be. That having been said her views on the matter are my own as well, with this as an addendum.

Religion is not a political issue unless you make it one. And if you make it one, there is something seriously fucked up about your politics, and probably your religion as well.

I have the idea in my head that my next post might be a rather long one as there is something on my mind, but sleep will happen before that, if that's cool with everyone. I'm not entirely sure you'll all be interested anyways.

The English language is a largely subjective thing. There are many bits of human experience that simply do not find representation in a dictionary

On my mind on the moment is this

When in the business of cooking and consuming brownies, there is often a fair bit of baked good that clings to the side, cooked more thoroughly than the rest. Some would say overcooked, but such is folly. They are a treat of different but equal value as the rest of the pan, and they have no name. I'm working on it.

Not round the clock or anything, but you know.

It is worth noting that in this post I took the scenic route to the point as opposed to the expressway. That having been said I am pleased with what I have written.

And so long as the media serves as a spotlight, our attention will be drawn to cretins and fools who attempt to poison our minds and limit our perspective. And so long as Americans continue to trust in the glowing box in front of their couch, those cretins will be rewarded with noteriety and respect. And called back into the spotlight for ratings.

Television, and mass media in general, are dangerous things. As media conglomorates expand their enterprises, and conquer more of our attention, the capacity for diverse expression is strangled. And it isn't about right versus left. It never was. It is about money, and those with the cameras will allways point them at the bigger wallets.

There used to be five major newspapers in Boston. Now there are two. One is owned by the New York Times (whose journalistic practices have been questionable of late) and the other a schill for the entrenched right wing minority, which editorializes in its flaglines, whitewashes all Paramount films in its movie reviews, and is written at a 6th grade reading level.

Things are only going to get worse for print and broadcast media, especially given the FCC's recent agenda.

Enter the internet, which is only now beginning to realize its potential as a medium. Which, if you think about it, is understandable. The advent of easy net access led to the dotcom boom, which like the gold rush was not focused on the long-term potential of the territory being explored, but rather how one might quickly and easily extract wealth from said territory. They ended in very nearly the same way. But the survivors of this collapse have begun to do extrordinary things.

They have introduced a concept of advertising that needen't be intrusive or annoying.

They have established a free encyclopedia, by the people, for the people, of often astonishing breadth and depth.

They have begun to build an infastructure that may one day soon allow recording artists the freedom to produce and distribute as they see fit and still make a living off their arts.

To that tune, comic artists are learning that they need not dance for the syndicates and submit to their numbing controls of content and expression in order to get paid.

Writers... well, they're more bound to print for the forseeable future, which is a shame because there's a serious environmental issue there. But there is some hope for Ebooks. And of course the web is an excellent outlet for short stories, poetry, and the like (which I promise I'll exploit more often, more to myself than anyone else). And of course, journalism has established a foothold here. The conglomerates are here too, of course, but they don't hold the keys, and that is significant.

Which is a matter, some of you may remember, I spoke of this ad nauseum in my earlier blogging days.

I still more or less hold to the positions I held there, including both that a blogger can be a journalist and that I am not one (I expect no arguement there). I may try my hand at it at some point in the future, but for now I am content to at times offer up a window into my world, at times be poignant, at times be relevant, at times be entertaining, and hopefully do so in a way that is intelligent, articulate, and worth reading.

Which is what brings me back to why we are here, or why I am, and perhaps why you are if you are still reading. (yeah, I did a couple of laps before I got to my point. It's kind of what I do) I saw this and felt the immedeate need to say something about it, and I stopped to think about it. If I met anyone who said those things on the street I would not deem them worthy to converse with, let alone about. I'd just walk away. (Well, more accurately I would declare them to be complete fuckwits and then walk away. And yet I see these thoughts expressed by people and on media outlets that I recognize and I feel the dire need to respond.

It is of course a matter of status. The fact that people listen to Ann Coulter and Tucker Carlson (I'm constantly surprised that people can hear him over that bowtie) and Sean Hannity, (and Jack Thompson for that matter) and take their opinions seriously, and the fact that they are constantly asked to share those opinions by people with cameras and microphones means that we, the sound of mind, cannot in good conscience ignore them as they are a threat to intelligent discourse. And by extension, the media conglomerates out of whose funds these people are paid are a threat to intelligent discourse, and, when one takes into account the larger part of the broadcast media, intelligence at large, and media diversity.

Those with status; the cretins, the conglamorates, have made it so that when one goes about activating that box in their living room, one must do so with caution. Approach the thing with a Kevlar vest and an entry shotgun and an attitude that lets it know what the deal is, and who exactly is holding the remote. On the other hand, the extremely low barrier to entry provided by the internet means that one must sneak in under cover of darkness, equipped with nightvision and the skills of a fucking ninja to avoid being maimed by hundreds of thousands of complete idiots while looking for the quality commentary that for one reason or another escaped the spotlight of mass media. As Alice often points out, the situation in Darfur is an issue that has been buried both by mass media and the masses of the web.

The way I see it, there are two reasons for this. One is the extreme difficulty involved in supporting oneself with online journalism. There at this moment exists no reliable way, but it is more than possible for one to be found. Another is somewhat linked, in that it is hard to gain status on the web. Until that problem is solved, it's back to the shadows, but it is a winnable situation. There is yet hope that in the search for information we may one day not have to suffer fools.

I got a job. Finally. Also I got Don Quixote De La Mancha from the library for research into a possible writing project. Won't be for a while though. Thing is fucking huge. I'll have to put it off for a while if I end up doing NaNoWriMo.

I've got a pretty good idea for that too, but I'm going to sit on it for a bit.

Something is telling me that I should have more things to talk about, but nothing more comes to mind. Maybe later

My laptop has been revived. As such I'll be able to blog more often.

However, the harddrive was totally fucked. An impressive collection of music and video files died with it. Likewise with all of my written work. Over 60 pages of fiction are gone, as well as the play I wrote for my playwriting class.

Not good. I guess I should have sent it to people like I said I would.

Then again, the story was pretty much without merit. I liked most of the individual scenes in terms of dialogue and humor, but put together they didn't really amount to anything.

That having been said, once I declare a writing project of mine dead, I like to fish around for bits of dialogue, quotes, imagery, and the like that might be reused. This is especially true of my narrative pieces, so that sucks.

That having been said, there is another bit of good news. My yet-unnamed improv troupe will be performing for the first time during the first weekend in November. So that's good.

I'll blog again after I finish installing everything

One of the things I love about media on the net is that there is a feeling of connection and accessability to those who create it. Take the comic strip for example. I read somewhere between 35 and 50 comic strips in a given day. I have never made contact with a cartoonist who deals in pulped dead tree format. However, just about every link to a webcomic on this site belongs to someone who I've exchanged emails with, and many of them are fellow snarkoleptics.

Furthermore, just about each one of them is coupled with a blog by the artist, allowing everyone who reads their work the same window into their lives that each of us provide.

It is for that reason that I feel a personal sense of victory when a story such as this comes along.

I've provided some of the dirt on Jack Thompson (forgive me for not producing all of it as it is in its very nature is hateful to me and furthermore can be found easily if one were curious). I feel the need to tell you a bit about Tycho and Gabe, the creators of Penny Arcade. I've been reading their work, which is fantastic if you happen to like that sort of thing, for about five years now. They represent what is to me the archetype of internet personality; that one can be agressively antagonistic and yet still be a right-minded philanthropist. They, like so many others who enjoy spending time sitting in front of a glowing box with a piece of plastic in their hand pressing buttons, were deeply and personally offended by the demonization of gamers by people like Jack Thompson. Having exhausted the "put forth a series of logical arguements supporting your position" route of dealing with the issue, which had been essentially a reaffirmation for a reader base that already agreed with them, they turned to another means. Two years ago, they began a charity known as Child's Play Their mission was twofold: to collect money and toys to donate to children's hospitals, and to put forth in the media a positive image of the video game community. Through their efforts in the first two years of the charity over half a million dollars in cash and toys has been raised. This year promises to be even bigger. Gabe mentioned that to Thompson in an email and told him what he thought of his measly ten grand, and Thompson called him up and yelled at him.

So anyways, back to the matter that I blogged about a few nights ago. Someone made the game Thompson proposed as a mod for Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. He then says that the whole thing was a satire, to "highlight the patent hypocrisy and recklessness exhibited by the video game industry’s willingness to target cops, women, homosexuals, and other groups with some of their violent games." (OK, so it's satire, but you still put money on the table, regardless of its intent) When he put forth the proposal, he said something to the effect that if the game industry truly believed that the violence was harmless then it wouldn't have any problem making a game that targeted itself and its audience. He was notably silent in his retraction as to the proof that this provides that gamers have no more problem with themselves as targets in games than anyone else.

Penny Arcade's response to Jackie Boy's "Modest Proposal" and subsequent reneging after someone called his bluff? They donate the ten thousand dollars themselves, in his name. He's at the moment pressing legal actionagainst them. With any luck the publicity will ruin him. Just a bit more luck and it'll raise even more awareness of Child's Play and even more sick children will be pleasantly surprised come Christmas.

Commentary on things that aren't about videogames possible tonight

Take my love, take my land
Take me where I cannot stand
I don't care, I'm still free
You can't take the sky from me

Take me out to the black
Tell them I ain't coming back
Burn the land and boil the sea
You can't take the sky from me

There's no place I can be
Since I found Serenity
But you can't take the sky from me

Ok, so the slogan isn't mine, but that does not make Firefly any less awesome. I watched a bunch of episodes the other day with my cousin and am actively seeking the rest so that I might prepare for Serenity. Basically the show and movie are what Star Wars would be if it was focused on a Han Solo who still shot first.

Which reminds me. Have I posted about how Wikipedia is an awesome and fantastic resource? It can't be said enough. If there is information that exists and is known by someone who reads it, chances are it ends up there. Of course, occasionally the entries are slightly suspect, but that is made up for by the sheer scope of the project.

However, I maintain that there is more that could be done with it. I think that there should be implemented a sort of Gonzo wikipedia that mirrors the main one, only in the "truth over facts" tradition of Hunter S Thompson. That being said I'm too goddamned lazy to set something like that up.

So yeah. Below is a rant about a prominent cretin if anyone's interested

I'm not sure how clear I make it here, but I am a gamer. Some of my first memories (trips to the Boston Garden to watch the Celtics in the era of Larry Bird nonwithstanding) involved playing Intellivision games with my father. The hobby has endured throughout several platforms, and has cost me sums of money over the years that I'd rather not think about. Most recently it has caused me to walk five miles in the cold to buy the last Xbox from the second-closest Gamestop, along with copies of Halo 2 and Crimson Skies, because I hadn't brought one to Chicago. I am not going to claim that playing video games has not had negative effects on my life. I would submit that its been worth it, but that's not the point.

The point is that Jack Thompson is full of shit.

Maybe you haven't heard of him. He's an attorney from Florida who has made his living blaming videogame companies and the retail chains that sell their wares for murders. His cases are based, of course, on the claim that violent videogames cause children to commit acts of violence. As one who has played videogames since age 3 and violent ones for only slightly less long, and yet never gotten into a real fight, and know many who can say the same, I put forth that this is a bullshit arguement, but I'm willing to admit that my knowledge therein is purely anecdotal. I do know for a fact, however, that it doesn't retard brain development for people under 25 as he claims.

Here is an article pertaining to his most recent bout of attentionwhoring. Basically he's saying he'll donate ten Gs to a charity if a game company will make a game about a father avenging his murdered son's death by massacring game developers, gamers, retail workers at stores that sell games, and the lawyers who defend them.

Let's give Jackass the benefit of the doubt and assume that this whole thing was tongue-in-cheek. The title of his essay or whatever in which he put forth this idea was "A Modest Videogame Proposal," which draws its name from an essay about how the solution to the Irish famine was to eat children, so that's probably the case anyways. That having been said, it would be more in tune with the namesake essay if it were written by someone like me. But whatever.

In his proposal, he implicates everyone who has to do with video games as targets for the protagonist's revenge. It should be noted that the parents who let their kid play the game that supposedly drove him to murder aren't on the hit list. It should also be noted that with all of the lawsuits against game developers and retail stores, there hasn't been a single one that implicates the parents of the kid who'd been "driven to kill." Also, game companies and retail chains tend to have more money than parents. Coincidence?

This guy is a cretin. He threatens to sue people who email him expressing contrary opinions to an address that he makes publicly available. There have been some who for some reason another had their phone number in their email signature, and he called them up and yelled at them.

Parents, your children are your responsibility. If you want to keep violent videogames away from them, it is likewise your responsibility to do so, because no matter what restrictions are put in place to prevent it, kids will allways find a way to get their hands on it, just like how teenagers will always find a way to get alcohol. Blaming others for your failure to fufil your responsibility is fucking weak

I was a bit down after the Sox went down in 3 to Chicago.

Then I popped in the 2004 World Championship dvd.

I'd waited 18 years for that to happen. I can wait one year before they win another one.

Who'd think it? There's an excess of good TV out there this season, and thats even without taking cable into consideration. I'm trying to avoid being devoured whole, so I'm focusing in mainly on four shows.

LOST: Abrams is a crazy bastard, and sure knows how to write TV, though in truth LOST is more of a film serial. Its as if Gilligan's Island was a modern drama, and moreover, a good show. (Sorry Bob Denver; the show that made you a cherished icon was a piece of shit whose only redeeming value was Ginger and Mary-Ann)

Kitchen Confidential and Arrested Development: Actual quality in situation comedy!!!

Boston Legal: Brilliantly shot, paced, and styled courtroom show that accomplishes the impossible: It makes William Shatner a good actor, as opposed to an awesomely bad one. Oddly enough, it reminds me of an anime called Samurai Champloo, but that is neither here nor there.

Also, I need to get my hands on the Firefly dvds before I go to see Serenity, but once again that doesn't bear any pertinence. Nor does any of this. Why am I talking about TV shows? I'm avoiding the subject, that's why.

When I went to Chicago, the Cubs became my second home team. And I learned to hate the White Sox, who are (depending on the day of the week), my second or third most disliked team. Their pinstriped uniforms, their dreadful stadium, and the fact that if you're in Chicago and are a total asshole, you're probably a White Sox fan.

And there's a reason for this. White Sox fans fall under three categories for the most part

A) the descendants of people who didn't switch to the Cubs after the Black Sox scandal.

B) Shitheads who listen to awful hip-hop (they don't necessarily care about baseball, its just that White Sox gear is more after their style)

C) the people who moved to Chicago, some of whom didn't know any better and joined the jackholes in group A, and their descendants.

Of all sports teams who have ever had long droughts, the White Sox and their fan base are the only ones who have ever deserved it. The funny thing is that if you ask one of them if they're cursed, they'll tell you some story about when the team was sold (I think in the 1980s but don't quote me) into unwholesome hands, and not, say, the fact that their next pennant season after the last time they won a championship ended with a fixed World Series, all of the participants of which got acquitted by a jury of White Sox fans. Not too surprising, though. Just about every baseball historian in Chicago is a Cubs fan.

There are, of course, cool and good-natured White Sox fans. Well, there are at least three of them. There are probably others...

Like I said, this isn't about spite for the current state of the division series. I wasn't counting on this win anyways, so I'm not worried. Wells will win one for us, and I see no reason why we can't take two in Fenway. My contempt for the White Sox, just like my contempt for the Braves, is independant of my love of the Red Sox.

Ok, so this might seem kinda weird...

I was chatting with a friend and at some point I said "Wouldn't it be funny if I had 'We apologize for the inconvenience' tatooed just above my junk?

I was not aware of this, but apparently that meant I was putting the matter to a vote, and she cast hers in the affirmative. She tells me that its unanimous unless there are other votes. I'm not all to sure on the logic here, but just for arguement's sake, any thoughts?

And yes Alice, this does make a liar of me for what I said earlier... 'tever.

Tanya Andersen, a 41 year old disabled single mother living in Oregon, has countersued the RIAA for , fraud, invasion of privacy, abuse of process, electronic trespass, violation of the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act, negligent misrepresentation, the tort of "outrage", and deceptive business practices.

About flipping time, I say

I've always found it absurd that anyone believes that the RIAA's anti-p2p crusade has been to protect artists. They didn't even use that as an excuse for the pricegouging that sparked all of this in the first place. The best way to avoid hearing a recording industry exec bullshit you is to avoid recording industry execs. They will be among the first against the wall when the revolution comes

This is not balanced. It does not pretend to be. Whether or not it is fair, as in all things, depends on your worldview. I submit that it is.

Another name with a face and no record has been nominated to the Supreme Court. Once again, the opposition has little to go on, and for some reason the easy logical deduction that when a President goes out of his way to put unknowns on the bench he is trying to fuck you dry without you noticing untill it's too damned late doesn't play well on the Senate floor.

This one isn't even a judge.

It isn't certain whether or not Harriet Miers, as the head of the committee for sifting through nominees, suggested herself, nor is there much certainty at all given the matter. The most prominent hit on Google News makes mention of her service as a Texas state lottery official and as George Bush's personal attorney...

Ok, I lied. We know all we need to know about her.

Hunter S Thompson, sadly, was not returning phone calls. I wonder what he'd be saying now if he had thought before pulling the trigger and realized that football would be back in a few months.

In a nation run by swine, all pigs are upward-mobile and the rest of us are fucked until we can put our acts together: Not necessarily to Win, but mainly to keep from Losing Completely.

I feel a terrible urge enter Fox Headquarters with a cardboard tube and leave with a battered, bloody one.

Offense the First: Taking Bill Bennett onto Hannity and Colmes and whitewashing him; allowing him to explain how him saying "If you were to abort every black baby, crime would go down," doesn't make him a filthy racist.

Offense the Second: Aside from the usual shitty coverage that Joe Buck and Tim MacCarver give for baseball in general and Sox-Yankees in particular, on two consecutive half-innings with the Red Sox at bat they switched to that goddamned splitscreen with the Sox in the tiny window. I couldn't get my mojo focused, and I'm sure others felt the same. Ridiculous assertation? Perhaps, but there is precisely one thing that I harbor superstition for, and that is baseball. I could be a lot worse.

So yeah. You really don't have to be a liberal to hate Fox. It does help, of course.

I think I'm going to alter my facial hair policy given recent developments from a "three game sweep of the hated swine" mess of scrag to a "lets just get ourselves in there goddammit" formation which my judo grip on the English language enables me to call a HAG, or Half-Assed Goatee.