Most democrats are. You would think that a man who owes his position to the good fortune of having had a predecessor who was an even bigger scumbag might make someone careful about what he does in public. After all, had Vito Fossella not been a drunk-driving adulterer with a love child, and worse, a persistent Republican at a time when that was only slightly more popular than dysentery, Mike McMahon would still be posing for his portrait on the Lucky Charms box.
But no. Displaying taste and class, especially during an election which one might lose, is something for other people to worry about. In the Great War to Keep The Phony-Baloney Job That You're Not Qualified To Do, all is fair game.
So why not make certain that your opponent's ex-wife is sitting in the front row for a debate?
Most people wouldn't be this petty and childish. Democrats, however, dance to a different tune. Usually, that tune involves complaining about the crass tastelessness and cluelessness of your republican opponent, while ignoring your own tasteless, clueless and asinine behavior.
Yet another reason to vote your local libtard out of office next week.
I guess nothing is out-of-bounds when it comes to keeping a Congressional seat that you didn't really earn, isn't it, Mikey? I would say that McMahon should be ashamed of himself, but he is incapable of shame. Expect some other douchebag libtard to try this stunt, or a variation upon the theme (maybe some Republican in the closet can expect his gay lovers to get the seats of honor at the next debate? My, but I wonder how many libtard pieties that sort of thing would violate?) between now and next Tuesday.
Disgusting. These people have no scruples, whatsoever.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Aren't You Glad We Stopped the Mosque?
Two stories about local Islamo-nutjobs bent on waging jihad within the United States; both of these idiots have ties to my hometown, Staten Island, New York. You can read about them here and here.
It was not that long ago that the Archdiocese of New York, true to form, tried to sell an ex-convent to a group of Islamonazis who wished to build an "Islamic Community Center" in Midland Beach. The local community was up in arms; Two-hundred and seventy-one Staten Islanders died on September 11th, or 10% of the total victims, during the attacks on the World Trade Center, and naturally, passions in regards to anything Muslim in these parts run extremely high. Especially when the Church tries to make the sale in the dead of night and not inform the local community about it until nearly the very last minute.
Eventually, the Church was convinced that the money it would gain from the sale was far outweighed by bad publicity -- public pressure and the boycott on the collection plate in local churches did the job -- and put all but the kiss of death on the sale. Never underestimate the Catholic church's ability to condition it's actions by the effects of it's balance sheet.
In any case, opponents of the proposed Midland Beach Mosque -- and the infamous Ground Zero Mosque -- have been proven correct in this regard: these two geniuses were living amongst us, and no one is quite certain who they associated with, and how many of their fellow would-be jihadis are still here. Far from being a "Community Center" that mosque in Midland Beach, or the one at Ground Zero, would more than likely have become a headquarters for the local jihad set, seeing as how many of them seem to be here. Put that many mental cases in the same room, pump 'em full of prayer and a litany of bullshit grievances (because that's all Islam has to offer, you know), and you get potential terrorists.
As it is, the apparent lack of such meeting places where these mental midgets can get together and conspire with each other just might be a contributing factor in actually capturing these home-grown jihadi douchebags: with nowhere else to go to join the jihad, or anyplace where they might even be given directions on how or where to do so, they wind up trying to fly to Pakistan or Syria on one-way tickets, and this leads to them getting caught, or they get so desperate to strike a blow that they forget about fundamental security and start talking and plotting with the first doofus to offer them a stick of dynamite...and that person, fortunately, usually, turns out to be an FBI agent or informant.
Lucky for us.
These guys were living right in our midst here. Who knows how many more of them there are here, and New Yorkistan, in general? Letting them build mosques that quickly become valuable resources for suicide bombers, providing security, privacy, and way to meet and communicate with other suicide bombers, is simply stupid. If these two had access to a better network of friends and fellow-travelers they might not ever have been found out, until it was too late to do anything about it.
In the meantime, the people of this island and New York City as a whole, are called "racists" whenever these mosque-building projects are so vehemently opposed. However, the main argument buttressing that opposition -- there's determined jihadis amongst us, and they will quickly turn any mosque from House of Worship into a House of Conspiracy just as soon as we kaffirs leave them to their own devices -- gets proven on a near-daily basis; just look what these guys do, how absolutely stupid and/or crazy they are, and the lengths they're willing to go to do their worst. We have every right to know Who, What, Where, When, Why and How before anyone builds a mosque in this city.
It was not that long ago that the Archdiocese of New York, true to form, tried to sell an ex-convent to a group of Islamonazis who wished to build an "Islamic Community Center" in Midland Beach. The local community was up in arms; Two-hundred and seventy-one Staten Islanders died on September 11th, or 10% of the total victims, during the attacks on the World Trade Center, and naturally, passions in regards to anything Muslim in these parts run extremely high. Especially when the Church tries to make the sale in the dead of night and not inform the local community about it until nearly the very last minute.
Eventually, the Church was convinced that the money it would gain from the sale was far outweighed by bad publicity -- public pressure and the boycott on the collection plate in local churches did the job -- and put all but the kiss of death on the sale. Never underestimate the Catholic church's ability to condition it's actions by the effects of it's balance sheet.
In any case, opponents of the proposed Midland Beach Mosque -- and the infamous Ground Zero Mosque -- have been proven correct in this regard: these two geniuses were living amongst us, and no one is quite certain who they associated with, and how many of their fellow would-be jihadis are still here. Far from being a "Community Center" that mosque in Midland Beach, or the one at Ground Zero, would more than likely have become a headquarters for the local jihad set, seeing as how many of them seem to be here. Put that many mental cases in the same room, pump 'em full of prayer and a litany of bullshit grievances (because that's all Islam has to offer, you know), and you get potential terrorists.
As it is, the apparent lack of such meeting places where these mental midgets can get together and conspire with each other just might be a contributing factor in actually capturing these home-grown jihadi douchebags: with nowhere else to go to join the jihad, or anyplace where they might even be given directions on how or where to do so, they wind up trying to fly to Pakistan or Syria on one-way tickets, and this leads to them getting caught, or they get so desperate to strike a blow that they forget about fundamental security and start talking and plotting with the first doofus to offer them a stick of dynamite...and that person, fortunately, usually, turns out to be an FBI agent or informant.
Lucky for us.
These guys were living right in our midst here. Who knows how many more of them there are here, and New Yorkistan, in general? Letting them build mosques that quickly become valuable resources for suicide bombers, providing security, privacy, and way to meet and communicate with other suicide bombers, is simply stupid. If these two had access to a better network of friends and fellow-travelers they might not ever have been found out, until it was too late to do anything about it.
In the meantime, the people of this island and New York City as a whole, are called "racists" whenever these mosque-building projects are so vehemently opposed. However, the main argument buttressing that opposition -- there's determined jihadis amongst us, and they will quickly turn any mosque from House of Worship into a House of Conspiracy just as soon as we kaffirs leave them to their own devices -- gets proven on a near-daily basis; just look what these guys do, how absolutely stupid and/or crazy they are, and the lengths they're willing to go to do their worst. We have every right to know Who, What, Where, When, Why and How before anyone builds a mosque in this city.
Terrorists: Deadly Threat or Idiotic Donkey Boffers?
You make the call.
I keep telling you these people are monumentally-stupid, inbred, sexually-obsessed little perverts, but all I get is hate mail from the usual suspects (i.e. useful idiots) accusing me of the most naked racism.
And for the record, "Muslim" is not a race, Assholes.
I keep telling you these people are monumentally-stupid, inbred, sexually-obsessed little perverts, but all I get is hate mail from the usual suspects (i.e. useful idiots) accusing me of the most naked racism.
And for the record, "Muslim" is not a race, Assholes.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
The Things You Notice...
This Sunday morning past, I had occasion to walk past Moravian Cemetery here on Staten Island. When I was a kid growing up in New Dorp, the cemetery was where we used to "hang out" and get up to all sorts of mischief, because in those days, the cemetery was a relatively isolated place, far from witnesses, and with easy access to the wooded parts of Todt and Lighthouse Hills, the perfect place to escape when caught.
Now that I'm older and conscious of my mortality, I've come to the realization that the cemetery is a beautiful place. Despite the headstones and mausoleums (if you're a fan of such things, take a stroll through the cemetery and count just how many prominent and famous people are buried here -- it will amaze you -- and the Cemetery actually offers a tour of the grounds to the public) the grounds of Moravian Cemetery are more like a garden, or a public park. Sometimes, you can forget that you are on sacred ground, and if you're not careful, you can imagine yourself having been transported back in time, like you might be wandering the private reserve of some European Monarch.
It will sound very strange to you, but to my mind, this cemetery is simply gorgeous. The landscaping is meticulous. The flora is wonderful. If you have to spend Eternity somewhere, I can think of few better places. It's almost like the Elysian fields. The people who maintain Moravian Cemetery obviously consider it a labor of love.
Anyways, there I was, walking down Richmond Road past the cemetery, and I had just happened to look through the fence for a second, when I saw it. There, on a tombstone, a date which sticks so vividly in our memories like a piece of jagged glass:
September 11th, 2001.
And then you notice something else; the next three headstones have the same date carved on them. You walk a little further, and there's two more. Further still, and there's another five.
I have no idea how many victims of September 11th are buried in Moravian Cemetery, and frankly, I don't really want to know. Nine years on it still hurts, sometimes, especially when it's so vividly still before you, carved into polished granite. Two-hundred and seventy one Staten Islanders lost that day.
It gets you to thinking about a lot of things. The first thought is that I should feel like a gigantic shitheel; we teens used to hop the fence into the cemetery to smoke cigarettes and drink beer far from prying eyes, which now seems like a thoughtless and unforgivable sacrilege. Of course, this is soon followed by a sense of certainty: one day, this will be you, buried beneath the earth, with one of those shiny stones to mark your final location.
I'm sorry that I was such a beastly swine as teenager, and that so much of my childhood stupidity took place in such an inappropriate place.
I'm going to be buried here, if they'll let me. I'd like to buy a plot, close to the ancestral home (well, ancestral since 1980, anyway), right in the middle of the New Dorp that I love so much. And perhaps, one day, someone else will be walking along Richmond Road, glance through the fence, and see my stone, which will probably read "Here lies The Lunatic -- don't you dare leave your beer bottles here..."
(Really, click through the cemetery's website, and just take a gander at how awesomely beautiful it, and Staten Island, really is).
Now that I'm older and conscious of my mortality, I've come to the realization that the cemetery is a beautiful place. Despite the headstones and mausoleums (if you're a fan of such things, take a stroll through the cemetery and count just how many prominent and famous people are buried here -- it will amaze you -- and the Cemetery actually offers a tour of the grounds to the public) the grounds of Moravian Cemetery are more like a garden, or a public park. Sometimes, you can forget that you are on sacred ground, and if you're not careful, you can imagine yourself having been transported back in time, like you might be wandering the private reserve of some European Monarch.
It will sound very strange to you, but to my mind, this cemetery is simply gorgeous. The landscaping is meticulous. The flora is wonderful. If you have to spend Eternity somewhere, I can think of few better places. It's almost like the Elysian fields. The people who maintain Moravian Cemetery obviously consider it a labor of love.
Anyways, there I was, walking down Richmond Road past the cemetery, and I had just happened to look through the fence for a second, when I saw it. There, on a tombstone, a date which sticks so vividly in our memories like a piece of jagged glass:
September 11th, 2001.
And then you notice something else; the next three headstones have the same date carved on them. You walk a little further, and there's two more. Further still, and there's another five.
I have no idea how many victims of September 11th are buried in Moravian Cemetery, and frankly, I don't really want to know. Nine years on it still hurts, sometimes, especially when it's so vividly still before you, carved into polished granite. Two-hundred and seventy one Staten Islanders lost that day.
It gets you to thinking about a lot of things. The first thought is that I should feel like a gigantic shitheel; we teens used to hop the fence into the cemetery to smoke cigarettes and drink beer far from prying eyes, which now seems like a thoughtless and unforgivable sacrilege. Of course, this is soon followed by a sense of certainty: one day, this will be you, buried beneath the earth, with one of those shiny stones to mark your final location.
I'm sorry that I was such a beastly swine as teenager, and that so much of my childhood stupidity took place in such an inappropriate place.
I'm going to be buried here, if they'll let me. I'd like to buy a plot, close to the ancestral home (well, ancestral since 1980, anyway), right in the middle of the New Dorp that I love so much. And perhaps, one day, someone else will be walking along Richmond Road, glance through the fence, and see my stone, which will probably read "Here lies The Lunatic -- don't you dare leave your beer bottles here..."
(Really, click through the cemetery's website, and just take a gander at how awesomely beautiful it, and Staten Island, really is).
This Just In: Democrats Hate Everyone...
This came up the other day, but I've had little time to post in the past two weeks. It is a must read!
They Hate Our Guts by P.J. O' Rourke.
Read it before you go and kick your local Democrap out of office next Tuesday.
They Hate Our Guts by P.J. O' Rourke.
Read it before you go and kick your local Democrap out of office next Tuesday.
And The Cab Stank?
Muslim douchebag demands $120 for cab ride.
I can promise you this; that cab already smelled horrible because someone named Nahidul Islam was in it. A kid puking in the backseat could hardly make it any worse.
You can't make this shit up.
And nice picture, douchebag. One can almost see the rancid aroma that must cling to you like a cheap burkha in a spring shower...speaking of showers, when was the last time you took one, you fucktard? I can see the oily skin and hair in that photo so clearly it makes me want to puke. You are so greasy that your hair is matted to the top of your head. It wouldn't surprise me if you were one of those Islamic jerks who washes his hands and feet five times a day before praying, but leaves the rest of your body to stew in it's own odors until your weekly hose-down.
(Yeah, I've known a few of those. Had to once pull one into my office and explain the basics of hygiene to him after the rest of my staff refused to work in the same room with him any longer).
Believe me, that kid did you a favor! I don't care what he could have eaten, a nice, steaming pile of thick, chunky puke on a New York City cab floor is often a positive improvement over what's typically found there. Some child's half-digested burrito-and-cotton-candy stomach ejacula is far preferable to the smell of Pakistani. Or Afghan, Syrian, Palestinian, Saudi or Moroccan, for that matter.
There are few things on planet Earth that smell worse than people like Mr. Islam. I'm certain he knows this, too. He just saw an opportunity to be an asshole and pry some more money out of an embarrassed woman with a sick kid in tow. I'm sure Mr. Douchebag...err..I mean, Mr. Islam, can probably point to some verse of the Koran that covers the right to be an asshole when someone upchucks on your camel, or some shit, and now that he's been publicly "humiliated" (whenever a Muslim's misdeeds are exposed to public view it's a "humiliation"to them, never the dickhead's just reward) expect to see him back in the papers within a week...with a lawyer in tow...to torment that family further.
All the public attention, you see, will ruin his life. In three days, he'll be suffering from extreme mental distress (usually, it's just called "Islam"), and within a week, he'll be deprived of his ability to earn a living because of the Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder he acquired when the Post published his picture, and because no cab company will hire a complete asshole who's so obviously filthy. Maybe he has a future in New York State Politics, but his career as a cab driver is now utterly ruined. And some court in this state would probably take this case in a heartbeat because our judges are dumber than dogshit and infected with a pernicious brand of Political Correctness.
I especially loved this part:
Islam told The Post that Cuthbert merely pushed the mess around and that it would cost $120 to pay a crew of "Mexican cleaners" in Queens who specialize in removing vomit from taxis.
Just doing the jobs Americans won't do, I gather? Yep, when I have a vomit problem I start looking for Mexicans, too. Best in the business, I hear. I had absolutely no idea such a service existed...and that Mexicans excelled at it.
It's all too much: Stinky Islamic cab drivers who don't realize how badly they smell, trying to extort money from a mother with a sick child? Mexican Puke Experts that apparently have an exclusively Islamic cab driver clientele? What happened to the good old days in New York when people only came in three varieties -- White, Black, and Puerto Rican -- and there was no Islamic nutjobs terrorizing nervous mothers, or Central American Vomit Experts, all of whom are probably illegal if they're catering to Islamic hacks? This is New York City -- the United States? -- in 2010?
The Melting Pot has boiled over, I think.
If it were up to me, Mr.Islam would be in jail for attempted extortion (but no -- in 21st century America, only Italians ever get charged with extortion, instead of Al Sharpton, CAIR, or the Democratic Party) , and after he'd spent his sentence turning big rocks into little rocks with a rubber sledgehammer, I'd ship his greasy, stinky ass back to whatever shithole he originally crawled out of.
Yet one more example of the new New Yorkistan.
I can promise you this; that cab already smelled horrible because someone named Nahidul Islam was in it. A kid puking in the backseat could hardly make it any worse.
You can't make this shit up.
And nice picture, douchebag. One can almost see the rancid aroma that must cling to you like a cheap burkha in a spring shower...speaking of showers, when was the last time you took one, you fucktard? I can see the oily skin and hair in that photo so clearly it makes me want to puke. You are so greasy that your hair is matted to the top of your head. It wouldn't surprise me if you were one of those Islamic jerks who washes his hands and feet five times a day before praying, but leaves the rest of your body to stew in it's own odors until your weekly hose-down.
(Yeah, I've known a few of those. Had to once pull one into my office and explain the basics of hygiene to him after the rest of my staff refused to work in the same room with him any longer).
Believe me, that kid did you a favor! I don't care what he could have eaten, a nice, steaming pile of thick, chunky puke on a New York City cab floor is often a positive improvement over what's typically found there. Some child's half-digested burrito-and-cotton-candy stomach ejacula is far preferable to the smell of Pakistani. Or Afghan, Syrian, Palestinian, Saudi or Moroccan, for that matter.
There are few things on planet Earth that smell worse than people like Mr. Islam. I'm certain he knows this, too. He just saw an opportunity to be an asshole and pry some more money out of an embarrassed woman with a sick kid in tow. I'm sure Mr. Douchebag...err..I mean, Mr. Islam, can probably point to some verse of the Koran that covers the right to be an asshole when someone upchucks on your camel, or some shit, and now that he's been publicly "humiliated" (whenever a Muslim's misdeeds are exposed to public view it's a "humiliation"to them, never the dickhead's just reward) expect to see him back in the papers within a week...with a lawyer in tow...to torment that family further.
All the public attention, you see, will ruin his life. In three days, he'll be suffering from extreme mental distress (usually, it's just called "Islam"), and within a week, he'll be deprived of his ability to earn a living because of the Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder he acquired when the Post published his picture, and because no cab company will hire a complete asshole who's so obviously filthy. Maybe he has a future in New York State Politics, but his career as a cab driver is now utterly ruined. And some court in this state would probably take this case in a heartbeat because our judges are dumber than dogshit and infected with a pernicious brand of Political Correctness.
I especially loved this part:
Islam told The Post that Cuthbert merely pushed the mess around and that it would cost $120 to pay a crew of "Mexican cleaners" in Queens who specialize in removing vomit from taxis.
Just doing the jobs Americans won't do, I gather? Yep, when I have a vomit problem I start looking for Mexicans, too. Best in the business, I hear. I had absolutely no idea such a service existed...and that Mexicans excelled at it.
It's all too much: Stinky Islamic cab drivers who don't realize how badly they smell, trying to extort money from a mother with a sick child? Mexican Puke Experts that apparently have an exclusively Islamic cab driver clientele? What happened to the good old days in New York when people only came in three varieties -- White, Black, and Puerto Rican -- and there was no Islamic nutjobs terrorizing nervous mothers, or Central American Vomit Experts, all of whom are probably illegal if they're catering to Islamic hacks? This is New York City -- the United States? -- in 2010?
The Melting Pot has boiled over, I think.
If it were up to me, Mr.Islam would be in jail for attempted extortion (but no -- in 21st century America, only Italians ever get charged with extortion, instead of Al Sharpton, CAIR, or the Democratic Party) , and after he'd spent his sentence turning big rocks into little rocks with a rubber sledgehammer, I'd ship his greasy, stinky ass back to whatever shithole he originally crawled out of.
Yet one more example of the new New Yorkistan.
Friday, October 22, 2010
On Juan Williams...
...and no, I did not mean that the way it sounded, so get your minds out of the gutter, dammit!
So let me get this straight; Juan Williams, a journalist, gets fired by NPR for...having an opinion. I thought that was one of the things we usually paid journalists for. Not only that, but it's made abundantly clear that he's been fired for holding an unpopular opinion, at least it's unpopular amongst what passes for intelligent people at NPR.
I say "made abundantly clear" because the tap dance NPR spokespeople and management have been doing to explain the otherwise-inexplicable makes it obvious that Williams crime was to give voice to what everyone pretty much already thinks but would never dare say aloud for fear of being banished from smart cocktail parties. Or of having a Libtard get in your face. The explanations make no sense, and there's been a lot of lawerly talk.
Except for the one remark about Williams needing a psychiatrist.
When it makes no sense, there's a bunch of lawyers involved, and they accuse you of being crazy, then you know they're full of shit.
This is 21st Century America in the Age of Barack Obama and Liberal Pieties, where a government-funded media outlet (why the hell do we have those? It can't be that difficult to make money in media when my cable system provides 250 channels of absolutely nothing to watch, and charges exorbitant rates for it) can deprive a man of the right to express his opinions.
All Williams said was what we all think; he worries when he sees an obvious Muslim getting on the same airplane he does. Normal people do.
Juan Williams will survive. He's a wonderful journalist (even if I don't often agree with him), and he seems a very decent sort of man. National Public Radio, however, shouldn't survive. It's time for NPR and PBS to go the way of the Dodo. If both were forced to compete in the marketplace, we'd see NPR vanish completely.
PBS would stick around solely on the strength of Big Bird and Elmo, and actually make money, so they wouldn't have to try and sell those gay and pretentious tote bags, anymore.
"This episode of Masterpiece Theatre is brought to you by the Letter 'L', and the number '4'...."
This is censorship, plain and simple. NPR could not get Williams to stop giving voice to his opinions, so they fired him. That this censorship is being paid for by the American taxpayer, for the benefit of people who could not survive otherwise in the marketplace of ideas, or if they had to get a real job, is an outrage. Contact your Congresscritter -- the new one you're likely to be getting next week, I mean -- and make it known that you want to ensure that this abomination -- National Public Radio --is no longer going to be lavishly funded with your stolen tax dollars.
So let me get this straight; Juan Williams, a journalist, gets fired by NPR for...having an opinion. I thought that was one of the things we usually paid journalists for. Not only that, but it's made abundantly clear that he's been fired for holding an unpopular opinion, at least it's unpopular amongst what passes for intelligent people at NPR.
I say "made abundantly clear" because the tap dance NPR spokespeople and management have been doing to explain the otherwise-inexplicable makes it obvious that Williams crime was to give voice to what everyone pretty much already thinks but would never dare say aloud for fear of being banished from smart cocktail parties. Or of having a Libtard get in your face. The explanations make no sense, and there's been a lot of lawerly talk.
Except for the one remark about Williams needing a psychiatrist.
When it makes no sense, there's a bunch of lawyers involved, and they accuse you of being crazy, then you know they're full of shit.
This is 21st Century America in the Age of Barack Obama and Liberal Pieties, where a government-funded media outlet (why the hell do we have those? It can't be that difficult to make money in media when my cable system provides 250 channels of absolutely nothing to watch, and charges exorbitant rates for it) can deprive a man of the right to express his opinions.
All Williams said was what we all think; he worries when he sees an obvious Muslim getting on the same airplane he does. Normal people do.
Juan Williams will survive. He's a wonderful journalist (even if I don't often agree with him), and he seems a very decent sort of man. National Public Radio, however, shouldn't survive. It's time for NPR and PBS to go the way of the Dodo. If both were forced to compete in the marketplace, we'd see NPR vanish completely.
PBS would stick around solely on the strength of Big Bird and Elmo, and actually make money, so they wouldn't have to try and sell those gay and pretentious tote bags, anymore.
"This episode of Masterpiece Theatre is brought to you by the Letter 'L', and the number '4'...."
This is censorship, plain and simple. NPR could not get Williams to stop giving voice to his opinions, so they fired him. That this censorship is being paid for by the American taxpayer, for the benefit of people who could not survive otherwise in the marketplace of ideas, or if they had to get a real job, is an outrage. Contact your Congresscritter -- the new one you're likely to be getting next week, I mean -- and make it known that you want to ensure that this abomination -- National Public Radio --is no longer going to be lavishly funded with your stolen tax dollars.
Crashed And Burned...
Unfortunately, I shall not get stinking rich in the video game business. This was not totally unexpected, as I was aware of both the initially-remote possibilities and the extremely long lead time in production of any video game, to count any chickens before they were hatched.
Still, I did at least get paid for my time and effort, and that's something, but at the end of the day Market Research did me in. Market Research says; the typical video game junkie, apparently, has no patience to solve puzzles, read or even think. When they sit down for their six-plus hours of mindless entertainment (the average video game junkie spends 6 hours a day twiddling their thumbs. Now you know why there's an obesity epidemic), they don't want to have to expend braincells. My concept was shot down because -- get this -- it was judged that there was the potential for too many pauses of greater than 30 seconds in the action.
See? The world caters to people with short attention spans. That's why there's ObamaCare and Jerry Springer. Never mind that those pauses were necessary to inform players of vital plot points, to give them information to continue their virtual quest, Today's Breed requires "total immersion". Any pause in their simulated violence, bloodshed, flashing lights and sound effects might cause them to go into a coma. Anything that causes their thumbs to stop moving for that long simply invites Carpal Tunnel syndrome, or probably brings on Rabies, for all I know.
Ask them to have to read something, and you just might see an increase in suicide rates, I would suppose.
Still, the experience hasn't been a total loss; I've learned a lot, and well, there's always someone else who might find gold in my garbage. I suppose that the most shocking thing about the entire process was the discovery that the people who were evaluating my product for eventual production were so clueless...about most things. Here I was, trying to sell a video game based upon the Iliad and the Odyssey of Homer, and usually discovering that 80% of the people in the room had never read either.
One woman, in her mid-30's by the look of things (the vacant stare gives away her age. She is obviously someone raised on Reality Television), during one meeting about the storyline suddenly blurted out, as if she had some particularly curious form of Tourette's syndrome "Hey, wasn't this once a movie with Brad Pitt...?"
"Why, yes. Yes it was, Sunshine. What college did you go to again?"
"San Diego State."
Good for you! I'm sure your parents are so proud. Ask for your fucking money back.
Anyways, I guess I'll have to continue to shop the project, and horror of horrors!, continue to find a permanent job (at least as permanent as you can get these days). I wonder if there are any openings on the San Diego State faculty?
Still, I did at least get paid for my time and effort, and that's something, but at the end of the day Market Research did me in. Market Research says; the typical video game junkie, apparently, has no patience to solve puzzles, read or even think. When they sit down for their six-plus hours of mindless entertainment (the average video game junkie spends 6 hours a day twiddling their thumbs. Now you know why there's an obesity epidemic), they don't want to have to expend braincells. My concept was shot down because -- get this -- it was judged that there was the potential for too many pauses of greater than 30 seconds in the action.
See? The world caters to people with short attention spans. That's why there's ObamaCare and Jerry Springer. Never mind that those pauses were necessary to inform players of vital plot points, to give them information to continue their virtual quest, Today's Breed requires "total immersion". Any pause in their simulated violence, bloodshed, flashing lights and sound effects might cause them to go into a coma. Anything that causes their thumbs to stop moving for that long simply invites Carpal Tunnel syndrome, or probably brings on Rabies, for all I know.
Ask them to have to read something, and you just might see an increase in suicide rates, I would suppose.
Still, the experience hasn't been a total loss; I've learned a lot, and well, there's always someone else who might find gold in my garbage. I suppose that the most shocking thing about the entire process was the discovery that the people who were evaluating my product for eventual production were so clueless...about most things. Here I was, trying to sell a video game based upon the Iliad and the Odyssey of Homer, and usually discovering that 80% of the people in the room had never read either.
One woman, in her mid-30's by the look of things (the vacant stare gives away her age. She is obviously someone raised on Reality Television), during one meeting about the storyline suddenly blurted out, as if she had some particularly curious form of Tourette's syndrome "Hey, wasn't this once a movie with Brad Pitt...?"
"Why, yes. Yes it was, Sunshine. What college did you go to again?"
"San Diego State."
Good for you! I'm sure your parents are so proud. Ask for your fucking money back.
Anyways, I guess I'll have to continue to shop the project, and horror of horrors!, continue to find a permanent job (at least as permanent as you can get these days). I wonder if there are any openings on the San Diego State faculty?
Thursday, October 14, 2010
On The Chilean Miners...
I have been absolutely glued to the television for the last few days, entranced by the rescue of 33 miners trapped half-a-mile underground for the last two months. What an incredible story! What a testament to the ingenuity of man, of persistence! A shining example of all the best qualities of mankind. It's a compelling story of bravery and endurance, and although I must admit that I had not followed the whole thing from the beginning, I most certainly have watched these last few days with a feeling of absolute awe.
Congratulations to the Men who were rescued; their tale in simply incredible. How they managed to remain calm, organized, and hopeful is something I'm just dying to read about soon. There must be some absolutely awesome "Life Lessons" somewhere in this incident, and I for one, can hardly wait for them to speak on them. These, truly, are MEN, and if I had my way, just as soon as they are able to speak about their ordeal I'd ship every one of them into every high school in America to pass on what they know and what they've learned to every soft-headed douchebag slacker in existence. This is how REAL MEN behave under adversity.
Congratulations to the rescuers; your work ethic and your cleverness are about to become legendary. What you've done should be immortalized in a famous speech comparable to Churchill's "The Few", or JFK's "Ask not what your country can do for you...". You are a shining example of the better virtues of mankind. All the commentators on television have been yacking about the detailed andmeticulous planning that obviously went into this rescue, and i must say, I agree 100%. Absolutely incredible.
Congratulations to the President of Chile; you have now become the Gold Standard of National Leadership. You were an unpopular man before this incident, but now you are a paragon of virtue. Your political folks said don't get involved, there is no hope" but you told them to get lost and did what you thought was the right thing to do, and mounted and supported this massive rescue. You gave leadership. You devoted whatever resources your country could muster to the task. And you were right -- and in the process, you've inspired an entire country and maybe even the world.
I almost wish you were my President!
Perhaps we should bring you here and stick you in front of the American political class and lecture them on what real leadership is all about? Well, it's a lovely thought, but I doubt it would take, as our politicians suffer from a congenital, bulletproof stupidity.
Well done, to all involved.
Congratulations to the Men who were rescued; their tale in simply incredible. How they managed to remain calm, organized, and hopeful is something I'm just dying to read about soon. There must be some absolutely awesome "Life Lessons" somewhere in this incident, and I for one, can hardly wait for them to speak on them. These, truly, are MEN, and if I had my way, just as soon as they are able to speak about their ordeal I'd ship every one of them into every high school in America to pass on what they know and what they've learned to every soft-headed douchebag slacker in existence. This is how REAL MEN behave under adversity.
Congratulations to the rescuers; your work ethic and your cleverness are about to become legendary. What you've done should be immortalized in a famous speech comparable to Churchill's "The Few", or JFK's "Ask not what your country can do for you...". You are a shining example of the better virtues of mankind. All the commentators on television have been yacking about the detailed andmeticulous planning that obviously went into this rescue, and i must say, I agree 100%. Absolutely incredible.
Congratulations to the President of Chile; you have now become the Gold Standard of National Leadership. You were an unpopular man before this incident, but now you are a paragon of virtue. Your political folks said don't get involved, there is no hope" but you told them to get lost and did what you thought was the right thing to do, and mounted and supported this massive rescue. You gave leadership. You devoted whatever resources your country could muster to the task. And you were right -- and in the process, you've inspired an entire country and maybe even the world.
I almost wish you were my President!
Perhaps we should bring you here and stick you in front of the American political class and lecture them on what real leadership is all about? Well, it's a lovely thought, but I doubt it would take, as our politicians suffer from a congenital, bulletproof stupidity.
Well done, to all involved.
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