Not all of your customers are idiots, Gamestop.

So I was walking back home from lunch with my friend Dave today when I passed by a Gamestop. I decided to go inside to do a little window shopping when I realized that I'd been holding onto these gift cards that my other friend Tony gave me not too long ago. I figured, what the hey, let's pick up Super Mario Galaxy. I had my Edge card with me so I figured I'd visit the dark side and buy it used to shave 10% off the price. I'm a miser like that. I'm trying to cut down how much I spend in general, so making gift cards go as long as they can will help tremendously.

After receiving my disc and making my way to the door, I remember to stop and check it for scratches, because with any used disc, you're sort of playing with fire. Sure enough, among the typical nicks and non-threatening scuffs you usually see, there was a 3cm-long circumferential -- officially, tangential -- scratch. If you don't know what a tangential scratch is, it's basically a scratch that curves along in an arc on the circumference of the disc as opposed to one that kinda just juts down in a straight line from the edge to the center.

Now, picture how ANY optical disc drive reads its media: the disc itself spins around and around in a circle, and the laser eye that sits inside the drive stays in one spot and shoots out a laser that hits the surface of the spinning disc and determines what the data is. Sometimes the laser eye will travel up and down the radius of the disc area. The key takeaway is this: if the laser is stationary and making contact with the disc for even a split second, it is basically reading a small curve of data off of the disc. It is reading a small arc of the disc's circumference. Therefore, a scratch that curves around the spiral of the disc like that is much more problematic than a scratch that simply nicks the disc from center to edge (otherwise known as a radial scratch).

Want an explanation? Go here.

Now with that out of the way, I take the disc back to the cashier. I show him the tangential scratch, and ask him politely if I could change the disc. He looks at it in the light for a few good seconds, tilting it as if inspecting it gingerly, then makes his verdict. "It'll be fine." He puts it back in the box.

No. Fuck you. I'm an educated individual. Don't try to make me look like a fool.

"Um, no, those are the worst kinds of scratches because of how it curves around the data."

With a somewhat incredulous look, he says, "I'd understand if it went all the way around the disc, but, nah, I've had lots of scratches on discs before and they work fine."

You know what? I don't give a shit what you've had. I've had lots of scratches too and they've worked fine -- but I don't care. If I'm going to pay money for a used game, I will make sure that I get one in the best condition I can. Everyone has the right to do that, and if management tries to instill a policy that says otherwise, then fuck you three times in the ear, I won't shop there anymore. Anyway.

"I really don't care -- I'd like to get the best disc possible. I don't want to be playing this at home and then come to return it days later, or play this just to come to find out that halfway through the game, that's where the scratch comes in and the game freezes. I've seen this happen with a Dreamcast disc of Marvel vs. Capcom 2 -- it got a similar scratch and never worked again."

"Did you say Dreamcast?" he asks, again incredulous.

"Uh, yeah. So?"

He smiles. "Dreamcast and Wii process their games totally differently."

Again, I must hold my tongue. I don't know how old he is, how long he's had this job, what shit all he knows about engineering and optical media, or if he's been commanded by Gamestop management to not allow any disc swaps unless customers won't go away, but he must think I'm an uneducated slob of a gamer. I don't think telling him he must think I'm an idiot and that he has no idea what he's talking about and has he ever taken any engineering courses and asking if in fact he has even graduated from high school yet would get the job done, so I stay calm and just tell him that's not how it is.

NEWSFLASH: Just because a console is different DOESN'T MEAN that the optical media on which the software is contained is read so significantly differently from each other as to shirk off the basic principles of how OPTICAL DRIVES WORK. YOU ARE A DOUCHEBAG.

"Besides," I continue, "I don't want to be playing this at home and then come to return it days later, or play this just to come to find out that halfway through the game, that's where the scratch comes in and the game freezes."

"Well is there a Gamestop near your house?"

I lie and say flat-out no. (Hear that? I lied, but you did too, so don't get all vagina-sandy about it.) I ask again to please just give me the disc. He turns to his manager and relays the situation, and the manager just points to another used-game case and says, "Get it from there," not giving me the, "So sir, what are you asking for again?" and not sticking up for his employee. Box was empty, so the cashier finally found a copy in the drawer and gave it to me. It was a pristine disc, and I was ultimately happy.

But the bottom line is this: just because you work in a Gamestop, are taller than me, and have a polo shirt tucked in while I am wearing a cap with my un-tucked T-shirt and baggy jeans, doesn't make you even a fraction as smart as me or any other customer. Just because you're a clerk in a videogame store does not make you the ultimate expert on how the physical machines -- which read these games -- actually work. In fact, you probably know as much as the average gaming fan, so don't try to insult my intelligence or anyone else's by making up some completely bullshit bullshit about how a disc is read by a drive. You don't know how it works, my friends and I do know how it works, and a simple customer request that really isn't unreasonable should just be made after legitimate inquiry. Yes -- Dreamcast discs are pitted from the outside in, where traditional discs are pitted from the inside out -- but this has NO bearing on whether or not an optical laser reads the disc in an arc or not.

So, if you were the one in the Gamestop at 33rd Street and Broadway in Manhattan, New York, NY, at approximately 4:19PM on Wednesday, April 30th, who tried to tell the Asian guy in the Kansas City Kings retro hat with the navy blue jacket, blue tee and jeans who was buying Super Mario Galaxy that Dreamcast discs are read in a different manner than Wii discs so as to render tangential scratches as insignificant, fuck you. You don't know shit. Read a little bit about how it works before you try to peddle that steaming pile of crap to another customer who might know a thing or two.

UPDATE: My boy Al just made a very salient point in the comments about how Wii discs are probably even worse off with a tangential scratch than a Dreamcast disc:

You know, Wii would be much more sensitive in reading media than the Dreamcast! As discs continue to squeeze more and more data into those fixed areas, the probability of corruption increases with tangential scratches.

GD-ROMs only held 1 GB of data.
Single layer DVDs hold 4.7GB of data.
Dual layer DVDs (e.g. Smash Bros. Brawl) hold up to 9 GB of data!

This is even more of a reason that rep should have gotten you a cleaner disc from jumpstreet.

Really, Steve Nash?

How about your sloppy turnovers and errant shooting?

Really?

I've always had a love-hate with Steve Nash. I love the things he does well. But I absolutely cannot stand it when he shoots from distance without rebounders under the basket, or drives along the baseline with nowhere else to go and recklessly throws the ball back out and sometimes into the stands. I just hate the image of his floppy hair just splaying about as he makes a boneheaded, clumsy ballhandling move.

There were lots of problems in Game 5, for sure -- Shaq and Amare getting into foul trouble, no one rotating onto Tim Duncan shooting that dead-eye jumper from the top of the key, and Boris Diaw making a REALLY SHITTY pass in the closing minutes during a post-up opportunity where he was going up against Ginobili (you see Kurt Thomas coming over from the weak side -- why not spin baseline and potentially find Shaq? Oh wait, you wanted to pass to the coaching staff, I forgot -- you fucking dipshit), but for me, personally, nothing is more irksome than seeing a supposed former MVP (two-time!) make unfathomably sloppy and unacceptable plays with the ball.

Nevermind that I never thought Nash was MVP-material anyway. I love the guy, but he can't play D worth a dogshit, there's that aforementioned sloppiness, and the only worse candidate to get it in recent years is probably his former teammate Dirk Nowitzki.

There was also some poor officiating to be had -- like when they called the ball out on Shaq after he shot that completely shitty baseline hook in the 4th, when Tim Duncan so obviously deflected it out; when they called Shaq for that bullshit tripping call; but there were some missed calls for the Spurs too, so I'm not going to hold it against the refs.

I didn't care who won this series, as long as it went to 7 games. It was exciting, and Game 1 whetted my appetite for what I thought would be the most competitive series in the first round. Now my fun gets cut short.

So because I'm on the internet and have to blame someone, like everyone online with a blog who thinks he knows more than he actually does, fuck you Steve Nash.

Oh, and for the record, the winner of tonight's crumbly, smearing piece of shit award is Jerry Stackhouse. Don't be mad that you're stuck on a shitty overrated squad that's about to lose its coach and that you're about to get beat by a team that you didn't even know existed before last month. Don't be mad you're not the next Jordan everyone thought you were. Don't be mad that you're not the same excellent 25-5-5 player you were on the Pistons just after the Grant Hill era ended, and likewise don't go and swipe the ball away from Chris Paul during a deadball situation and then try to be all big about it and then get ejected, costing your team two free points and a reliable outside shooter (who coincidentally was having a completely shitty series).

PETA Bitch

So, my friend Alexis and I (yes -- Alexis who lost Robert) went to Six Flags Great Adventure on Friday, April 25th. Since I am in self-training mode in between projects, I was able to get myself a day of paid time off; she just got a nice new job and doesn't start until Wednesday so we decided to go and celebrate. We got there quite early, as the bus ride was much faster than we anticipated, so with the aid of a Gold Flash Pass we were able to snare three rides in under an hour: King Daka, El Toro and Rolling Thunder (just for good old times' sake). After getting our heads rattled around, we took a break and had lunch, digested, and then went for Nitro. That rattled our heads around even more, so we broke for another 30 minutes before taking a trip on the Duh-nuh-nuh-nuhnuhunununununublah BATMAN.

Heads destroyed by then, but she resolved to make it to Superman as if her life depended on it. In order to do so, however, we had to break until near the end of our day just before we left so we wouldn't destroy our brains. In the meantime, we went to see the tiger show right by the King Daka ride because tigers are mad cool.

This tiger, sitting in a grassy little cul de sac, behind a chain link fence and a glass panel, is sitting there enjoying a half-nap. This group of teens comes walking by -- at least they looked and acted like teens -- and watch as the big cat suns itself. As if by some vomit-inducing, superficial and pretentious display of compassion, one stupid little bitch goes, "Like, ulch. I can't watch this, like, it's so sad. I want to like, go up to the trainer and ask her why this tiger is like, in captivity and not in the wild, you know, like, but it's not her fault."

Then whose fault is it, PETA bitch? I should really call her PETA-wannabe bitch, because I bet you she wouldn't do anything about this if she could. She doesn't give a shit -- she just wants to act all righteous in front of her fellow cool teenage posse. Right. Meanwhile, the tiger makes a big turn and lies on its back in the supine position, legs and paws twitching about in the air and enjoying the sun on its belly.

"Um, that looks like a pretty happy cat to me," Alexis muttered to me.

"Yeah, like, so sad," said one of PETA bitch's friends.

"C'mon, let's go. It's so heart-wrenching to watch," cooed PETA bitch, not sounding the least bit concerned, upset or even remotely emotional.

So how about that tiger show? We learn that the breed of tigers we were seeing is actually incredibly endangered (not to mention tigers in general) and that the two tigers on display, whose breed is called the golden tabby tiger, with really gorgeous butterscotch-brown stripes on top of orange (as opposed to black-on-orange or black-on-white), were two of only approximately 30 left in the world. Of course, the usual claims of poaching and dwindling of prey were made as reasons for their endangered status.

Whether or not you believe this is up to you (I choose to believe it), but before you go to a zoo or animal display and jump to the conclusion that an animal's being tortured just by the fact that it's not in the wild and then try to impress your friends by showing off what a fucking hippie self-righteous love peace and happiness bullshit canCUN Tourist you are, just think about the possibility that maybe they're in captivity because otherwise they'd all be goddamn dead.

Stupid PETA bitch.

The DeShawn Watch, Game 4

DeShawn Stevenson, if you didn't already know, does this funny and stupid thing with his hand where he waves it in front of his face any time he hits a three. From afar, it looks like he's blowing on his fingertips as if he's "on fire" (a Kobe staple), though that's not what it is. TNT announcer and former coach Mike Fratello first said it was a signal that meant, "You can't see me," i.e. he's so unguardable that no one can catch up to him; later the announcers started saying it meant, "I can't feel my face," a metaphor for another saying ("He's unconscious!"). After the Wiz completely elephant-handled the Cavs in Game 3 (by 30+ points -- sick!), he even had Soulja Boy ("SUPAMAN!!!!") getting in on the act on the sidelines.

Then Game 4 happened.

With 34 points, 12 boards and 7 dimes, LeBronze (I'm still thinking about Team USA in 2004... grumble) was 3 assists shy of a triple double. His team eked out a win when he gathered that seventh assist by passing off to Delonte West, who was chilling in the corner behind the three-point arc. Swish, bang, game over, I can't feel my farce I mean face.

DeShawn? Respectable night... 13 points, 5 boards and 5 assists. But he also took out his shitty frustration on LeBronze by swiping at his nemesis' head. Sometime late in the first half LeBronze was driving hard to the cup and zoomed right by Stevenson, so Face-Feeley leapt up, swiped, and caught LeBronze in the head and as a result took his head-band clear off. Facey fell on the floor, LeBronze stayed on his feet, and the two stepped to each other ice-grillin' like prize fighters. I'm pretty sure some words about mamas, their skills, and DeShawn's jail-bait adventures were exchanged.

This DeShawn thing has just gotten completely baffling. There are well-publicized hostilities (or at least some drama) between players -- Michael Jordan and Isiah Thomas (KNICKS! ell-oh-ell); Kobe Bryant and Shaquille Large'Neal; Bruce Bowen and every two-guard, small forward and rebounder who happened to cross his path; even Kevin Garnett and Stephon Marbury at one point.

LeBron and DeShawn? It's like David and Goliath, except this time David has no arms, is missing an eye, and has a really poor sense of judgment. At the very least, Bruce Bowen is a Defensive Player of the Year candidate and has been a significant part of the Spurs' championships. DeShawn is a middling talent who can hit a few threes, dunk the ball a little, and be rendered obsolete once (a) Gilbert Arenas comes back in full force and (2) he goes and tries to manhandle Miley Cyrus (she's still got a few years to go, DeShawn...). It should be said, though, that for LeBron to even respond to this flea who tapped him on the head says something about how good a job Jail-Bait Boy is doing getting into the MVP-candidate's head. So, score one for child molesters, I guess?

Besides, "LeBron" and "DeShawn" rhyme. They're both high-school draftees. Furthermore, they both trendily capitalize the third letters of their names. Shouldn't they be the bestest of friends??? Shouldn't they be a sweet couple and get married?????

<_<

>_>

Nevermind.

The DeShawn Watch, Game 3

Ohh! Looks like DeShawn is gonna get some sex tonight! Right now the Cavs-Wizards game is in the 3rd quarter with two-and-a-half minutes left, and the Wiz is up 72-45. Bring out the banners and pop the champagne -- tonight DeShawn isn't worthless (but his hairstyle is god-awful -- and his conceited ass better remember that he stole the beard idea from Baron Davis)! Let's see if this holds up for the Wiz for three more games.

In other news, the Cavs are complete shit tonight.

UPDATE: 3:35 left in the game, Wiz lead by 36!

UPDATE: Final score is 108 - 72. That must be some good jailbait sex DeShawn was playing for. His team had his back, for sure.

The DeShawn Watch, Games 1 and 2

From washingtonpost.com's Wizards Insider:

When [DeShawn Stevenson] was leaving the building, [Wizards Insider writer] Mike Lee was chatting him up and mentioned LeBron [James] again. DeShawn has obviously heard enough of that.

"He's overrated," DeShawn told Mike. "And you can say I said that."

From the Box Score of Game 1 of the Cleveland-Washington series played on Saturday, April 19th, 2008:

Cavaliers win, 93-86
LeBron James: 32 pts on 12-19 FG shooting, 6 rebs, 4 ast, 2 blk, 1 stl, 1 TO, and a win
DeShawn Stevenson: 3 pts on 1-9 shooting, 1 reb, 5 ast, 1 TO, a loss, and a 12-year-old baby mama

From the Box Score of Game 2 of the Cleveland-Washington series played on Monday, April 21st, 2008:

Cavaliers win, 116-86
LeBron James: 30 pts on 9-19 FG shooting, 9 reb, 12 ast, 1 stl, 2 blk, 1 TO, and a win
DeShawn Stevenson: 12 pts on 4-7 shooting, 0 reb, 2 ast, 1 TO, a loss, and down 0-2 for the second year in a row

Hmm. Gotta go take a dump. I'll think about this while I'm on the john.

*time passes, among other things*

Ok, so I'm back. Maybe LeBron is overrated and maybe he's not. But maybe -- just maybe -- DeShawn's mouth should look for some backup next time before exposing itself to a raging tea-bagging by only the biggest and hairiest of nut-sacks.





Go DeShawn, Go DeShawn, Go! You go make that barely legal --oops I mean not-yet legal -- crowd cheer for ya, son!

Alexis

"Maryland is THE place to catch things. Once I caught this cricket and put him in a shoebox. I named him Robert. Not sure why I thought of Robert. I think I fed him leaves. Then one day my sister sat on the box, and I think that was about it for Robert."

(slightly paraphrased)

Restructure the NBA Playoffs?

What would happen if we experiment and let 16 best teams in, kicking everyone else out the door and and making them take a massive, contemplative shit aided by generous use of fiber?

This year is just weird when you consider that a 48-win team like Golden State isn't making the playoffs, and meanwhile teams mired in mediocrity like the Cavs, the Bullets (FUCK "the Wizards" I do what I want), the Raptors, the Sixers and... wait for it... the 37-44 Atlanta are bringing up the rear.

The Cavs? 4th place in their conference? At 45-36?

But then, would a restructuring actually help out a season like this one?

Here are the standings right now:

West
1 Lakers (57-25)
2 N'Awlins (56-25)
3 Spurs (55-26, who could actually drop to sixth if they lose to Utah tonight)
4 Jazz (54-27)
5 Rockets (54-27)
6 Shaq (54-27)
7 Mavericks (50-31)
8 Nuggets (49-31)
9 Warriors (48-33, left out of the playoffs, in the cold with no pants on)

East
1 Celtics (65-16 holy shit Kevin Garnett is awesome)
2 Pistons (58-23)
3 Magic (51-30)
4 LeBron James' Shoulders (45-36)
5 Bullets (43-28)
6 Raptors (41-40)
7 Sixers (40-41)
8 Hawks (37-44)

Taking every team's record into account, we shuffle it like so:

1 Celtics (65-16)
2 Pistons (58-23)
3 Lakers (57-25)
4 N'Awlins (56-25)
5 Spurs (55-26)
6 Jazz (54-27)
7 Rockets (54-27)
8 Shaq (54-27)
9 Magic (51-30)
10 Mavericks (50-31)
11 Nuggets (49-31)
12 Warriors (48-33)
13 LeBron James' Shoulders (45-36)
14 Bullets (43-28)
15 Raptors (41-40)
16 Portland (41-40)

The brackets would actually look like:

1 Celtics
16 Portland

8 Shaq
9 Magic

5 Spurs
12 Warriors

4 N'Awlins
13 LeBron James' Shoulders

6 Jazz
11 Nuggets

3 Lakers
14 Bullets

7 Rockets
10 Mavericks

2 Pistons
15 Raptors

* Pro: We end up throwing two sub-.500 teams (as of April 16th) out the window -- The Philadelphia 76ers and the Atlanta Hawks -- and letting in the Warriors, who deserve to be here.

* Con: We end up throwing a compelling 1-8 Western Conference matchup in a Lakers-Nuggets series out the window and are left with a 1-16 matchup of... Portland and Boston. Gee -- wonder who's winning that one.

* Pro: We get a 8-9 matchup between Orlando and Phoenix -- Shaq's old home versus Shaq's new home; Dwight Howard versus Shaq. That would be fun as all hell to watch.

* Con: Phoenix and Boston would meet up in the second round if they won; assuming Phoenix can't pull off an upset (would it be an upset?), we'd be robbed of that much-anticipated Phoenix-San Antonio rivalry in the third round. I want to see Shaq and Duncan go head-to-head again, with Amare lurking for a baseline dunk.

* Pro: We'd be almost guaranteed to see an awesome finals.

* Con: Cinderella team? What's that? Ain't no way the freaking Raptors are going all the way. Then again, this is contingent on the structure being a multi-game series instead of a single-elimination series. I'm not keen on a single-elim NBA playoffs just yet.

* Pro: The teams that hit the draft lottery are the ones that SHOULD hit the draft lottery, in terms of balance: That'd be the WORST 14 teams in the league, not the ones that simply did not make the playoffs on account of a territorial division.

* Con: Won't it be a little exciting to see Portland and Golden State snatch up lottery picks, especially when Golden State is a playoff-quality team and Portland has Greg Oden waiting in the wings?

Any other thoughts on the pros and cons of a playoff restructuring?

More Tangential and Unorganized Terminator Issues - The T-X is Shitty Fanfic

NOTE: This brog has been rated NSFW by the Blogitorial Board. There is no nudity -- only an animated GIF of a rather, er, bouncy cartoon lady. You'll see why it's there should you choose to read on.

The female Terminator -- the Terminatrix -- The T-X -- whatever the fuck you want to call her -- is shitty fanfic.

Now, I don't have a definition for what makes shitty fanfic. I think you pretty much just know it when you see it.

For the uninitiated: Fanfic is short for "fan fiction". Fan fiction usually constitutes a hardcore fan of something, usually an intellectual property (I can't imagine someone writing a fanfic about Shaquille O'Neal -- though maybe STEEL or KAZAAM ["Fun!" lauds one critic] qualifies as shitty fanfic), taking that fandom and applying it to a work of fiction that s/he can proudly call his own. Liberties are expected to be taken. Get a Star Wars fan with a really sick -- sorry, fantastic -- imagination and he'll probably write something insane -- incredible I mean -- like Luke Skywalker learning to fly like superman and then engaging in meticulously choreographed coitus with 42 virgin female Jedi students.

Oh, I'm sorry, horny shitty fanfic writer of Star Wars: Long Luke -- I meant Padawan. Forgive my ignorance of the appropriate terminology.

Shitty is the adjective variant of the word "shit", which is generally used as a negative term (most commonly utilizing one of its definitions as feces -- or manure, or poop, or uh-oh-a-lil-accident, or smear if you prefer -- as a metaphor or simile: "Smells like shit" or "That's complete, smelly horse shit") to describe something that is not to your liking.

Therefore, shitty fanfic is fan fiction that smells, tastes, feels, or looks like complete shit. The fan completely embellishes or exaggerates or goes into excessively obnoxious detail about the subject matter, adding stuff that s/he thinks is "omfg so aesome it pwns!!!111" when i reality it's completely gratuitous. I'm willing to bet it also fulfills his/her horniest desires (see the Long Luke example from three para's ago).

Now, I like Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines. I was highly entertained by it. It had irreparable flaws, yes, such as JOHNCONNORSAYINGHEWAS13WHENT2HAPPENED, but I still enjoyed myself. I enjoyed myself despite the fact that -- say it with me, all three of you reading -- the T-X was shitty fanfic. But it was. Nothing against Kristanna Loken, or the concept of a female Terminator (works quite nicely in Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles). It's just the... the gratuitous nature of her goddamn powers and abilities that causes disc 4 in my spine to herniate out of sheer frustration.

You know what made the T-1000 scary, besides the fact that most of Terminator 2: Judgment Day was shot at night? That motherfucker closed in on you and shoved a goddamn spike in your eye. His arms turned into barbaric pointed tips. If you blew his head open, it splayed apart in a chrome mess and then somehow repaired itself. It didn't look like a robot -- it looked like a monster.

Now, flash-forward to Terminator 3. Are we supposed to be scared of the fact that the T-X has Killer Titties from the Future? I don't mean that she was hot -- I'm talking about the scene where she gets pulled over by the cop early in the movie, she sees a lingerie ad (pronounced "linn-grrr-eee" because I'm not French; I do what I want) and then -- in order to win the cop over -- inflates her mammaries.

o_O

G'eh???

What the hell is this?

What next, Terminator: Mai?

You know what she said next? "I like your gun." Which means she probably took it from him, and then killed him. So why bother with the push-push-push-up? Did she need to give the guy a woodpecker before ending him? Did she have an un-Terminator-esque moment of compassion and say, "It's okay baby, you'll die (sorta) happy"? I mean, let's be real. I can almost picture the sweaty, freckled, balding guy with the high, whiny nasal voice thinking, "Oh that's hot..." as the words fall on the page:

Hot TERMINATOR X BABE, who we'll call TERMINATRIX because it sounds like Dominatrix and that really grows my gland, goes from a D-cup to an I-M-The-Alpha-And-Omega-cup.

TERMINATRIX

(seductively) I like your gun.

The POLICE OFFICER and TERMINATRIX look each other in the eyes, then rip off each others' clothing for a steamy, passionate session of man-machine lovemaking right there in the street. TERMINATRIX generates artificial sweat that glistens over her breasts in the moonlight as POLICE OFFICER'S love handles wobble sloppily in the dark. After climax, TERMINATRIX snaps POLICE OFFICER'S neck and takes his gun, then sings ABBA with a chorus line of T-800'S and the TOP-HAT ALIEN that burst out of that dude's chest in the end of SPACEBALLS.

(I'm pretty sure that last part didn't make it in the script.)

It might be just as offensive to my intelligence, if not moreso, as the "I call 9mm" line. Except you get no happy picture of elated conference-room denizens -- and I'd rather not look on images.google for the keywords "obese, pervert, fan fiction author".

Whoa, look. I killed two birds with one stone. Now I don't have to explain why the nickname "Terminatrix" IS ALSO SHITTY FANFIC.

Wait, though; it gets better. She can like, dude, oh my god, control other machines! That's SO FREAKING AWESOME COOL AND IT MAKES HER DEADLYER AND SO SCARYER!!

This needle with the little remote control robots is TOTALLY TUBULAR. Shitty fat fanfic writer says, "I bet she uses it in OTHER ways too! lol amirite amirite w00t"

You know, in intense movies, usually it's some sort of monster that telephatically commands like -- I don't know, killer bees or something -- to come after you. It's taking mother nature and turning it against you; taking something very close to home and making it incredibly scary. This shit? I mean, sure, maybe there's something scary about a four police vehicles chasing after you with no driver. All I can think of when I imagine that is Burnout Paradise or Transformers, more than meets the eye, "Autobots, TRANSFORM!" *khee kheh khaw khoh*. I mean, really -- that's most of what it came down to: sending a police car after John Connor. Later on, yes, she reprograms Skynet prototypes. Big whoop. That still doesn't make her scary.

To further add to the "let's throw everything, the kitchen sink, the dog, the kitchen sink's dog, and the kitchen sink's dog's kennel into this Terminator broad and she'll be like the most bestest awesomest cool robot from the future to kill stuff!!! Radical!"

"A killer robot with EVERYTHING you ever dreamt of. How radical?" "So radical."

I mean, look! She has guns built-in! Her arm can change into a PLASMA CANNON!!!!!!! Oh and then, and then like, and then dude a FLAME THROWER.

omg way cool d00d


P. Diddy allegedly told someone to back off or, "I'll shoot flames out ya ass." That makes this cool.

The original Terminator probably intimidated a few folks, yeah, because it was an unstoppable man with an eerie metal skeleton underneath. I mean a skeleton folks -- taking our human structure and making it foreign and cold and mechanic. The T-X's endoskeleton just looks like a robot. That's it. It doesn't make you think of a creature the way the T-1000 does, or a single-minded tank that needs nothing but its own indestructibility the way the old T-800's do. The T-X just has so many toys that it's like, ok, why bother going in for the kill? I can just shit a land mine out of my ass and be done with it. What horrifying beast ever did that? Ok, so the T-X screams a shrill, animalistic scream near the end of the movie as it claws its way to grab the escaping Connor, but that pales in comparison to the gruesomeness of this:



or this:


or this:


Whoops! How'd you get in there, Claire Danes? (Sorry Claire, but you just didn't look good in Terminator 3. Or is that Tom Cruise standing in for you in that scene?)

Nuke-ular Fallout

The following is the aftermath of this event, which you should read first.

Me (6:19:08 PM): i can't believe this. it's so embarrassing i had to post it :P http://mrchupon.blogspot.com
Me (6:19:12 PM): i'm going to get my laugh assed at
Friend (6:19:14 PM): oh man, that is weird to sleep so late
Friend (6:19:39 PM): I got up before someone! *dances at sense of liberating accomplishment*
Me (6:20:51 PM): *twiddles thumbs*
Friend (6:21:00 PM): lol. poor kid.
Friend (6:21:20 PM): you're going to screw up your whole sleep cycle now. Cause you will not be ready to sleep at a reasonable hour tonight.
Friend (6:21:28 PM): unless you drug yourself.
Me (6:21:38 PM): i wonder if i should add these to the blog
Friend (6:21:46 PM): these what?
Me (6:21:51 PM): these further IMs
Me (6:21:57 PM): i blogged the convo
Friend (6:22:00 PM): ROFL
Friend (6:22:04 PM): I saw it.
Me (6:22:20 PM): i like how i categorized it
Friend (6:22:29 PM): "Indeed I am"
[see the time stamps and imagine a 15-second pause that feels like it lasts for an eternity]
Friend (6:22:44 PM): making a large and very complicated joke on my expenses. *scowl*
Me (6:23:11 PM):
Friend (6:23:31 PM): you are a large turd. *scowls harder*
Me (6:23:38 PM): the more you insult me
Me (6:23:44 PM): the worse off you are for having been tricked
Me (6:23:46 PM): example:
Friend (6:23:47 PM): I have got to stop believing everything I'm told.
Me (6:23:50 PM): you were tricked by a large turd
Me (6:23:51 PM): becomes
Me (6:23:55 PM): you were tricked by a giant phallus
Me (6:23:56 PM): or
Friend (6:23:59 PM): LOL
Me (6:24:02 PM): you were tricked by a huge pile of manure
Friend (6:24:12 PM): <--- gullible.

Yeah, pretty much.

Friend (6:06:43 PM): good evening sir
Me (6:06:53 PM): tis the morning
Me (6:06:54 PM): early morn
Me (6:06:59 PM): 6 in the morning in fact
Friend (6:07:12 PM): it is not. It says PM on my clock
Me (6:07:21 PM): but
Me (6:07:23 PM): i just now woke up
Friend (6:07:23 PM): just because I lack a circadian rhythm you think you can fool me.
Me (6:07:37 PM): hold on
Friend (6:07:37 PM): you did not! *protest* you went to bed early
Me (6:07:38 PM): ...
Me (6:07:41 PM): i know
Me (6:07:42 PM): wait
Me (6:07:55 PM): ok it is the evening
Me (6:07:55 PM): but
Me (6:08:01 PM): how did i just now awoked
Friend (6:08:16 PM): *narrows eyes* you've been awoked, no?
Friend (6:08:33 PM): don't you still work the job with the allconsuming lifeeating draconian hours?
Me (6:10:51 PM): which is why i woke up at what i thought was 6am
Friend (6:11:15 PM): I went to bed at what I thought was 6am.
Me (6:12:31 PM): wow so i like
Me (6:12:34 PM): completely wasted an entire day
Me (6:12:36 PM): this is bullshit
Me (6:12:37 PM): goddammit
Friend (6:12:56 PM): You are not serious.
Me (6:13:03 PM): i mean i'm doing self-paced training
Friend (6:13:06 PM): You cannot be serious
Me (6:13:06 PM): since i rolled off the illinois project
Me (6:13:13 PM): so it's not like i can get in trouble
Friend (6:13:19 PM): You really just got up and thought it was 6am?
Friend (6:13:40 PM): good grief you must be really sleep deprived to sleep for like nineteen hours at once.
Friend (6:14:29 PM): you are making an extremely weird and complex joke at my gullible expense?

I'm Donny, and I'm Out of my Element

Up until the fall of 2007, I really didn't listen to any music outside of hip-hop, R&B and classical. You can throw in a few video game soundtracks in there to account for any style of music that doesn't fall into above (WipEout 3 was probably my only real exposure to electronica, and Sim City 3000 sported some amazing jazz), but that's about it. It's probably even sadder that the catalyst for me venturing outside of my little bucket was yet another video game (or, at least a game franchise): Guitar Hero. It's sad not because it's got to do with games -- fuck y'all who still think that all people who play games are either pasty, societal rejects venturing out of their basements only when necessary, or fat awkward slobs who poop-sock in order to stay glued to a World of Warcraft session for as long as they can -- rather, it's because my brain just couldn't open up to the possibility of something different until one of my favorite hobbies pushed me to it.

So, with a heavy exposure to the single tracks licensed by the Guitar Hero franchise, I went about exploring the vast rock genre and its various sub-genres. At the recommendation of my good friend Al, master of the lead guitar (as in "to lead a group", not as in the element Pb, Sara ^_^), I listened to some Avenged Sevenfold. Anyone who knows me will understand that this is a departure without precedent for me: I did not and still don't like growly shouting over thrashing tracks. Sure enough, I didn't like the group's earlier stuff, so he pointed me to what I was familiar with Guitar-Hero-wise and got me listening to City of Evil, in which the lead singer actually -- you know -- sings. Never you mind that the entire album is in the key of D minor -- I kind of dug its gritty riffs.

Al also pointed me to the prog-rock band Dream Theater, to which I instantly took a liking. There's something about how the melodies, harmonies, and piercing vocals come together; about the way they play with their time signatures; about what feels, to me at least, like a singular passion for exploring new and strange ways to make shit sound good. Not in the haphazard I'm-Andre-Benjamin-and-I'm-gonna-stop-rapping-and-start-singing-poorly experimental way, but a more calculated, wait-until-we're-sure-that-this-chemical-mixture-doesn't-explode way.

This mini-explosion of willingness to venture out into the musical wilderness led me to explore other such bands as Metallica (One being my favorite track to play off of Guitar Hero III), Weezer, Queens of the Stone Age, The Killers, The Strokes, The White Stripes, and my current favorite, Muse.

Muse is -- and if you'll please pardon my ignorance of any bands to which Muse sounds similar, I'll thank you heartily -- quite something else. I started exploring them after enjoying my run-ins with Knights of Cydonia (from Guitar Hero III, natch), and while listening to the album "Black Holes and Revelations" I get kind of the same feeling as I do with Dream Theater when listening to the tracks "Starlight" and "Map of the Problematique" because of how they've mixed different sounds together into this almost whimsical yet focused and direct sound.

So here I come to the part where I explain why I asked you to pardon my ignorance of similar bands. I'm pretty sure that Muse isn't the only band to produce this kind of wonderful sound, and I'm pretty sure that it isn't the first. I'm looking for more bands that have not necessarily the same sound, but a sound that, at least, could have come from similar inspirations. If you're unfamiliar with Muse and need an example, take a quick gandar raught thar:

Starlight
Map of the Problematique

I'm still out of my element in this strange new world. I'm frightened of venturing into a new space and potentially wasting my time with a band I thought I'd be into but ultimately end up not digging at all. Thus-hence-forth, if you've any sexy suggestions with regards to any bands that share similar sonic sensations with those two songs above, I may just give you a cookie.

Hey John Hollinger, how real are you keepin' it now?

The Phoenix Suns are 7-3 in their last 10 games. They have 51 wins. Unless they lose each one of their last six games and either Denver or Golden State win at least six games (I'm not sure of who holds the tiebreaker here), they'll be in the playoffs. Even if they don't go too far, everyone who was bellyaching that the Suns were just worse off and that Shaq's presence wouldn't help any... well. After a little worrisome moment in the first few weeks, the team has been striding along quite nicely. They freaking broke 50 wins, for chrissakes.

Yeah, John Hollinger, the Shaq deal completely sucked. Really. You were right.

Asshat.

Things that are phallic that should not be

Hallo. I am Joe. Here are some things that are phallic that should not be.



How's this for overcompensating? Here we have pictured a video card for use in your personal computers, the better with which to play your computer games and make them look all nice and pretty and smooth. For the uninitiated, putting one of these things in your PC is like upgrading your car with a new 50,000 cylinder engine with mega million blowjillion horsepower. If anything qualifies as an e-penis, this motherfucker is it -- especially since it has the audacity to cap off its overlong shaft with a signature bulge. Thanks a lot, ATi. (This image comes courtesy of online computer shopping site NewEgg, whose ovarian name is only oh-so appropriate for the subject matter.)



This is butternut squash. Hold your childish laughter just for a second, Terrence. I'll get to the name in a second. But, FIRST OF ALL, WHAT MAN WANTS TO EAT A VEGETABLE THAT (a) LOOKS LIKE HIS WEAPON and (2) HAS TO BE CROSS-SECTIONED IN SUCH A MANNER?

Are you fukn' kidding me?

It's even got balls, and in the balls are its reproductive entities (the seeds). How much more symbolic can you get than that? Come the hell on, ladies. (I'm looking squarely at my sister, who has one sitting in her dining area ON DISPLAY.) That's just not fair. Just because we eat beef, and a bull's head looks like -- well, you know -- doesn't mean... oh forget it. Just laugh at the fact that you can say "butter nut" or "butt, her nut" or something asinine like that. Fucking barbarians. Chopping open a phallus like that... no regard for human decency or anything where's my beer... /mutter

Intermission time.

BAM! Here are some balls, just for you. (I was image-searching a bulls head and the Wall Street bull popped up. Well no, not like that -- quite obviously it's flaccid right now. Thanks to... um... Organfocus.com for the picture.)

Ok, here's a gem. Also, think about the fact that you drink from it, and from which end you drink its electrolyte-fueled Jesus juice.

Really?

....really?????

No more phallus. This is making me quiver in fear.

UPDATE: Hey guess what I told my friend who likes balls (don't worry; it's a female) about this post and she dropped this gem on me!

me: refresh blog
it has balls just for you
Sent at 12:58 PM on Friday
M----a: oh..
yay?
me: Yay.
M----a: let me clarify something
i like talking about balls.
i do not necessarily like balls.
they're weird and squishy
me: <_<

Unsorted and Tangential Terminator Issues

I love the Terminator series. In fact, I think it's awesome. Boo me if you want -- you know I'm right. There are, however, some beeves (yes, I've chosen the V plural instead of writing "beefs" -- leave me alone) I have with it -- and it's not the concept but rather how much the creators FUK UP the timelines of the series. As my friend Dave and I discussed one night over dinner at the ESPNZone where the Knicks were on television getting summarily pounded by whatever flotsam and jetsam was floating by, it's founded on a completely ridiculous notion. We all knew that -- the stupid predestination paradox that makes it possible for some dude (John Connor) to somehow be older than his dad (Kyle Reese).

But that's the item of suspension of disbelief we're supposed to accept if we're to enjoy the movie. I mean, it's about freaking walking, sentient robots in a man meat suit. That's already ridiculous enough for anyone who's not willing to enjoy a nice, unrealistic sci-fi movie, to walk out of the theatre. So let's throw that out.

Following are a list of things that I demand explained or amended by the Vice President of Fiction, and so help me God if he can't do it, the President of Fiction sure as hell better be able to. This is haphazard. Scattered. Unorganized. Growing. So you maybe can come back in a month and a half when I've actually chronologically ordered this pile of shit.

***********

John Connor was NOT thirteen. (Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines, or, Arnold's Botox)

Dear T3 Director Jonathan Mostow:

Hi! My name is Chupporito. When I was 11 years old, I saw Terminator 2: Judgment Day. Never mind that it was a rated R movie, and never mind that this is probably the first time you realized that it's spelled "judgment" and not "judgement". "Judgement" is not a real word. Anyway, on with the show. I saw Terminator 2. I loved it. I remember it like the back of my left hand, which I remember quite well because it's got a nasty burn scar from when I stuck it in a subway car door and then yanked it out for fear of getting dragged along with the train.

You know what I remember clearly about it? Allow me to turn fanboy and put on my nerd glasses. John Connor was ten years old in that movie. Yep -- ten.

So, riddle me this, Darlene: Why does (the well-cast) Nick Stahl recite a line indicating that he was thirteen years old when the T-1000 went after his scrawny ass (also when Robert Patrick's movie career began and ended; okay, that was harsh, I actually do like him, but HE WAS IN THE GODDAMN MARINE)? I mean, did you allow your writers to go up to Jim Cameron and Billy Wisher and say to them, "Hey, can I just kind of unload some feces on what you've already written in your fantastic, revolutionary blockbuster and just CHANGE the age of your Messiah just, you know, because?"

"lolz I am ruin ur timelien now, kk?"

Only Living Tissue Can Go Through Time Travel, w00t (Terminator 2: Judgment Day)

So in the first Terminator, starring Michael Bean and Arnold Swasherbuckle (I know how to spell their names, I do what I want), Beanie's character Kyle Reese says that he couldn't bring weapons back because only living tissue could pass through the time displacement machine. So, Skynet says, "Fuk u, I put my robit in teh meat bag and give him hair and eys." Fair enough -- the original terminator, encased in homo sapien beef, is allowed through.

But if the T-1000 is a "mimetic polyalloy" of liquid metal, where's the beef?

"Fuck you asshole. I mean, uh... ..moo. I am so full of milk."

I mean, maybe Skynet wrapped Robert Patrick in a big meatball and sent him on through. Wait, a meatball is dead. Mkay, maybe they build a living tissue castle around him and when he touched down in Los Angeles he turned into liquid metal form and seeped out the asshole? Point is, Jim, you made a great movie, but failed to explain that. Do you know how much my sister traumatized me with the fact that your movie did not make logistical sense as compared to the original? Do you know how poorly I tried to defend my favorite movie against her female wits?

Ok, over-dramatic, yes. Bite my ass. Point is: Metal can't go through. Explain yourself.

Summer Glau Cannot Pull Off an Arnold (Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles)

Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles is a fun show. It's not perfect. It's not 24. It doesn't have Kiefer Sutherland in it. But it does have (shitty fanfic writers, get your notepads out -- your perverted, disgusting dream has come true) a female terminator. No, not a ridiculous shitty fanfic terminator like in Terminator 3 (if I say shitty fanfic three times in this piece you all owe me drinks -- oh wait, I win) with GUNS IN HER ARMS OMGLOLZ TAHTS SCURRY. No, a mostly plain bag-of-meat-plus-robot-skeleton model. In effect, she is the female Arnold in the series.

Now, Summer Glau as the terminator named Cameron Phillips ain't bad. Despite the headline of this item, the following is not really her fault but rather the fault of the writers. But here we go. Now, I know in keeping with the spirit of stuff like, "I'll be back," "Hasta la vista, baby," "No problemo," and all of that, the writers probably wanted to write in some Arnold camp. So what do they come up with?

John Connor (running towards the passenger door of a car): "I call shotgun."
Cameron Phillips: "I call nine millimeter."

o_O

Uh. What?

"omfg we like so totally nailed it were AWSOME writers!"

I cried a little inside when I heard that line in the commercial for that episode, and then I absolutely bawled when I saw it in the episode itself. Come to think of it, I don't even think Arnold could have pulled that off.

There's more -- oh yes -- there's more to come.