This Post is Not About Pirates or Ninjas

I never realized it would be quite this difficult to keep coming up with ideas to write about.  I find myself almost frantically searching my addled mind for the faintest whisper of an idea worthy of blogging about.

 I have failed. As a result, here's a post about pirates vs ninjas.

 Wait, wait! Don't leave yet! I know what your thinking. "What's next? A post about Chuck Norris? Some LOLCAT pictures? That video of the 7 year-old tripping face after going to the dentist?" Believe me, I understand your concern. The Internet is a cruel and fickle mistress, and the time between being the next big Internet craze and a worn out cliche is infinitesimally short. 

That being said, the Internet's own "chicken or the egg" question was one that hung heavy on my mind long before I ever waited through the 56K screech of early AOL. Who would win a fight between pirates and ninjas? Who indeed?

 Pirates and ninjas represent two diametrically opposed facets of the young male psyche. On one side of the coin you have the swash buckling adventurer, swilling grog and groping wenches. Following no laws but the barbaric code of the open sea, the pirate is all action with no regard for consequence. On the flip side the ninja is all forethought and precision. Quiet and capable, he is born out of a desire to throw sharp objects and abilities honed by hiding from Jehovah's Witnesses when they ring the doorbell. 

After years of deliberation, which included seeing an actual performance piece at Wesleyan University entitled Pirate Vs Ninja, I have come to the conclusion that perhaps this is not the best match up of romanticized historical figures. I think that they do match up perfectly in a contest of "which is cooler?" rather than a contest of physical combat. 

A real fight to the death between pirates and ninjas seems unfair, as ninjas were primarily (note: all ninja and pirate facts cited herein are based solely on the author's childhood notions and not necessarily academic research, though they might as well be because let's be honest here folks, who knows more about ninjas and pirates than an 8 year old boy?) assassins who spent their days and nights training only to kill. Pirates were basically just guys enjoying the fresh ocean breeze while indiscriminately firing guns into the air. I'm sure they were capable and resourceful fighters, but they were most certainly drunk or trying to become drunk during most hours of the day. It's sort of like saying who would win in a fight between Bruce Lee and Russell Crowe. Sure they're both really badass dudes with high coolness quotients, but it seems clear that Lee would emerge victorious. Would he get wasted afterwards and probably take a few chicks home? No, but Crowe would. 

I propose that we must alter these dogmatic match ups to create more competitive and entertaining contests. They are as follows:

 Pirates Vs Cowboys

 How has no one thought of this sooner? Cowboys are basically the land-based version of the pirate, living by their own rules and dealing out justice with a judicious dose of hot lead. As the pirate lives and dies by his ship, so too does the cowboy by way of his trusty steed. I can see it now. After an enormously successful plundering of Central American ruins leaves a wayward band of pirates rich beyond their wildest pirate dreams, they decided to celebrate by drinking their own weight in rum. Drunk beyond all comprehension, everyone on board passes out as they veer off course. They awake to find themselves miles inland, following a river deep into the untamed American West.  The dubious sight of the Jolly Roger flying high above the pirate vessel catches the attention of a rag-tag band of Texas lawmen, who quickly move in to investigate.  Awesomess ensues.  When are they making that movie? 

Ninjas Vs Vampires

 Fuck this Twilight emo vampire shit.  I want vampires and ninjas flipping around, slicing and biting the crap out of each other.  They possess comparable speed and agility, as well as both sharing the power to turn into shadows.  The sword of the ninja provides a solid defense against vampires, as lopping off their undead heads is just as valid a means of killing them as a stake to the heart.  I imagine a pretty gnarly gorefest, with even the most confident group of ninjas starting to lose their cool as their fallen compatriots reanimate as horrifyingly badass vampire-ninjas.  The concept of combining a vampire with a ninja has been flirted with before, especially in the  recent trilogy of increasingly bad Blade films.  However, let us not be disillusioned by the shortcomings of Wesley Snipes career moves.  If vampires are truly immortal, surely they existed during the time of the ninja.  With nary a crucifix or Van Helsing relative in sight, what vampire wouldn't want to take a little trip to 14th century feudal Japan?  As peasants start disappearing mysteriously, it wouldn't take long before some ninjas would be brought in to exterminate the strange nocturnal Europeans. 

 Zombies Vs Robots

This isn't so much a fantasy as an inevitable reality.  With robotic and A.I. technology advancing ever more quickly, the days of fully-realized walking and talking robots becoming a part of everyday society will be upon us before we know it.  And, as anyone who has ever had even a passing interest in Science Fiction knows, their conquest of humanity is not really a question of if but when.  The equally unavoidable zombie apocalypse could represent a great catalyst for the robot takeover.  Once the zombie scourge is upon us, the last thing we'll want to do is to send troops into battle, feeding the fire by providing more humans to be transformed into the undead.  Considering the recent unmanned warfare advances, it seems obvious that an army of robotic war machines would be our last best hope.  In the chaos of the Zombie War, our previously loyal Artificial Intelligence overlord will see the opportunity to seize control of the planet.  However, even with His ability to perform trillions upon trillions of calculation per nanosecond, He will not be able to foresee the true magnitude of the threat posed by the zombie hordes.  Throw into the mix the last remnants of human civilization, with survivors spending all available resources to transform the infection that turned every man, woman, and child into a mindless zombie into some sort of computer virus.  Or something?

Well did you enjoy reading that?  You will never get those 12 minutes of your life back.

How To Get Ahead in the Corporate World

Seeing how I spent most of my time confined within the oppressive walls of my cubicle, it seems odd that I never make more than a passing mention of this in my blog.  I usually dedicate my time here writing about the distractions of my life, such as video games, movies, and having pleasant thoughts.  However, this is an unrealistic depiction of my life.  Statistically speaking, if I'm awake, I'm at work.  At first I resisted this seemingly soul-crushing truth.  Time passed and I realized that no matter how much I wanted to pull a Peter Gibbons, my bills would still beckon to be paid.  

Since working for The Man (at least for the time being) seems inescapable, why not try to make the most of it?  I've learned much in my short time in corporate America, and I've picked up many tips and tricks to help you stand out and get ahead.  Gather 'round children, and I shall show you the secrets to my success.

1) Show up fashionable late

When attending a a party, the last thing you'd want to do is be the first person there.  This is no different with your job.  Sure there will be those who feel showing up early or on time is the way to endear yourself to upper-management, but that's a dirty stereotype.  People who arrive on time look needy, and probably don't have any great plans after work.  Other people will pick up on this and pigeon-hole you as a loser.  

Bosses are people too, and like all people they want to be friends with the cool kids.  Cool kids don't show up early.  

2) Dominate the bathroom

Public restrooms are an awkward place for many people, and it's easy to see why.  Who hasn't cringed upon walking into a freshly inhabited bathroom stall, seeing the lingering remnants of tenants past.  Rogue hairs of untold origin sit defiantly on white porcelain, glaring back up at you.  "You don't want to know what just happened in here," they whisper to you, like the last mangled casualties of a vicious battle.  

The bathroom represents a great place to assert your power and influence, far more than any boardroom (For evidence see video below).  When standing at the urinal, don't make the rookie mistake of peeing on side or back of the receptacle, as your natural inclination may direct you to do.  You need to concentrate your fire directly into the small pool of water at the bottom of the urinal.  Your goal is to create the loudest splash possible as to alert any man in the vicinity that you are not to be messed with.  Ever hear a horse micturate?  It sounds like a fire hose being sprayed directly onto a gong.  I heard it as a child, and was at once terrified and humbled by the experience.  Be that horse, in the bathroom.

3)  Never eat a salad

I often see coworkers making a conscious effort to eat right, which usually involves eating fruits and vegetables.  They might as well be waving a white flag.  It is imperative that all those around you can see, hear, and smell that you are carnivore capable of consuming massive quantities of animal flesh.  When a superior comes to your cubicle to ask where that report they wanted last week is, imagine the fear and reverence they would be struck with to find bloody slabs of animal protein strewn about your desk.  Large cuts of muscle work nicely for this effect, but nothing says upper-management material like an entire carcass slumped over your filing cabinet.  

Well I hope this has been enlightening to many of you.  In tough economic times such as these you'll need every trick in the book to stay afloat.  Follow my tips and I'll meet you at the top! 

Gears of War 2 Review

I played the original Gears of War like everyone else with an Xbox 360 in the lean days before Halo 3.  Microsoft knew Halo had saved their original system, and the gap in time between the launch of the 360 and Halo 3 did not sit well with higher-ups at MS.  To fill this gap, Microsoft held a magnifying glass over developer Epic to encourage them to make a killer app for their fledgling system.  As a result, early adopters were treated to a fairly polished 3rd person shooter experience, complete with solid campaign mode and an engaging, competitive online multiplayer.  And you could chainsaw people in half.

Years have passed, and Halo 3 has come and stayed to take its place as the rightful heir to the Microsoft gaming throne.  But what has become of Epic Games and their intrepid band of chainsaw welding badasses?  With their second entry in the series, they have created a game that can stand proudly among the triple-A titles currently available. 

You've probably heard someone use the phrase "went there" as in, "Oh he went there," or , "I can't believe she went there!" or most regrettably, "I went there, put my thing down, flipped it, and reversed it."  Well this game goes there.  You thought the first Gears of War was a bloody, hyper-masculine brodeo?  Gears of War 2 makes the first installment seem like a Nicholas Sparks novel wrapped in a Thomas Kinkade painting.  Strong words, you say?  I drowned a few times in blood during the story campaign.  This is not a metaphor; my character was literally in over his head in blood and died as a result.  ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!?! 

Full of excessive gore, disturbing imagery, and deliberate profanity, this game is not for kids.  This game works hard to earn its mature rating, and with the average age of a gamer now being 35 (yes, really) I have no problem wallowing in the depravity.  Disembodied hands and jaws are sent flying and jiggling around the screen while the camera is occasionally obscured by thick blotches of blood, but the exaggerated art makes it all plays like a violent cartoon rather than a naturalistic representation of bodies being eviscerated.  Once again, this game is not for children, but anyone older than 13 should be able to play this game and still remain a well-adjusted member of society.  

Adding to the typical campaign mode and multiplayer online matches, Epic has given us a simplistic little gem called Horde.  This involves you, along with 4 human controlled players, fighting off waves of increasingly challenging Locust baddies.  It starts off slowly but escalates quickly, forcing tight team work that usually results in a glorious Alamo-like last stand before you are overwhelmed by a throng of horrific creatures.  

Gears of War 2 is probably the best looking game I've ever played on the Xbox 360 game console.  I remember thinking how great the original Gears looked years back and the sequel is a significant graphical improvement.  It also boasts a far grander sense of scale, with sweeping vistas and cavernous underground environments to explore.  This game is a great deal of fun, and it encourages you to play it with friends.  What more could you ask for?  Well for starters how about a patch to finally fix all the online issues plaguing the game.  

While it might not do much for the "videogames as art" debate, Gears of War 2 is a polished and engaging work.  If excessive violence and gore are not your thing you may want to skip this one, but players looking for a fun, frenetic, and visceral experience need look no further.

Why I Don't Care About the Election

We're a scant two weeks away from what has been touted as THE MOST IMPORTANT ELECTION EVER...until of course the one right after it. Frankly I could not be more sick of this circus and I can't wait until it's all over. If I never hear the phrase "Joe the Plumber" again, it'll be far too soon. Now, before you call me an apathetic prick or evil Republican, please allow me to eloquently explain why I do not care about the 2008 Presidential Election.

I feel like every aspect of my life has been hijacked by this election, and I'd really like my old status quo back. No form of media is safe. Television is pretty much unwatchable, unless you like attack ads and watching SNL, the Daily Show, and The Colbert Report desperately try to jam the same three jokes down your throat. The Internet is even worse. There was a time when you could go on Digg and easily find a video of a primate trying to consume its own feces. Now you're lucky if you can hack your way through the jungle of Huffington Post links about how stupid Sarah Palin is to find a decent Chimpanzee riding a Segway video. Congrats Digg, everyone knows Sarah Palin is an unqualified moron, but at what cost? You can't go 3 minutes on the web with looking at what some pompous blogger has to say on the election (erm...), an attack ad that was trigged by what you searched on Google, or a disappointingly bad photoshop of Sarah Palin's head on the body of a nude pornstar.

Anyone who once thought the media had a slight liberal bias must now see how clearly defined that bias is. Except of course for Fox News, which you can't help but admire for their creative re-imagining of history and current events. At least they don't hide behind the pretense of being a fair and bal.....well at least they've got the shiniest graphics. What else do you want people!? But back to every other media outlet I've come across. The pro-Obama fanaticism that's been created is staggering. Obama's been more overhyped than the 2008 Dallas Cowboys. He's like Jesus, except everyone already knows he's black, as opposed to finding out after you already spent all that money filling your church with paintings of Ken doll Jesus. I heard Obama's got X-ray vision and he can read DVDs with all different regional codes.

Yes, I understand the excitement and enthusiasm. George Bush kind of sucked the big one and now we're all feeling vulnerable and used. Along comes this new, younger, more worldly man. He's everything our old boyfriend wasn't: he's a democrat, he's black, he had to make up stories about partying instead of trying to hid them. I get it, he's the anti-Bush, and we need someone to make us forget about all of the cheating and lying that he did to us. Those late nights, waiting for a phone call that never came. So now we've met this guy who's debonair but a little mysterious, and we're about two flirty text messages away from inviting him up to our place to see our new piercing.

On the other hand, we have a man who spent 3 years of his life in a box being tortured by Viet-Cong, and all anyone can talk about is how he'll surely die within the next 4 years in the most safe, secure, and lavish house in America. The real shame about John McCain is that there was a time, before he sold his soul to the devil that is a presidential campaign, when he actually could have been the reforming maverick he always broadcasts himself to be. Then he got castrated by some frat boy from Yale in the 2000 elections and realized if he couldn't beat 'em he'd have to join them. He was a little shaky as a candidate, but everyone could concede he had the experience Obama lacked. And then of course, the moose hit the fan.

What can be said about Sarah Palin that hasn't already? Well for one, she was born a man. That's not true, but I'm trying to get linked on Digg so I kinda have to fudge this one a little. I haven't read too much about her because I don't have to. People on television tell me what I should think about her. In all seriousness, it's clear to me that being mayor of a town with a population of 9,000 and two years as governor of arguably one of the most unimportant states in the union doesn't really qualify you to be Vice President. This probably wouldn't have matter 8 years ago back when the Vice President literally did nothing, but in the post-Dick Cheney era the role of the VP has change a bit. There was a time when the VP had to be the tie-breaker for a vote in the Senate, but now it seems their tasks include misleading large percentages of the population and wiping out all reminding Jedi.

Somehow through this entire shit storm, Joe Biden, a man who's been referred to a "gaffe machine" because of his uncontrollable verbal diarrhea, has gone through all this pretty much unscathed. That's probably partially due to the fact that most Americans were busy reading on Wikipedia just who this Joe Biden character was, and then became entranced by their own reflection gleaming glorious off of his 8 1/2 by 11 printer paper sized ultra white teeth.


So why am I indifferent towards the direction our country will be headed. Well, first off I live in New Jersey, and therefore my vote is meaningless. New Jersey will forever be a democratic stronghold, and whether I vote for Obama or McCain the electorate votes that come from my state will go to Barrack Obama. For that reason, I cannot care on a person level whom I vote for. Beyond that? Well I could go on to say that our two party system is far too simplified, and the resulting differences between the two candidates are somewhat superficial. Neither candidate will pull out of Iraq soon, and when they eventually do those troops will probably just head over to the re-escalating conflict in Afghanistan. Neither candidate can "fix" the economy, as we have a long hard road out of this crisis no matter how you look at it. Universal healthcare will definitely result in one thing, and that is skyrocketing taxes. I'm not trying to say it's stupid to vote, or we're better off than we were 4 or 8 years ago. I'm just saying our lives won't be that much different on Nov 5th no matter what happens.

On Moving Out of Your Parents' House

If you're reading this then you surely know me in real life, and will therefore know I have recently escaped from the clutches of my parents' house and fled into the wild of young adulthood. My family's homestead, or as I like to call it, Freaky-Deaky-America-Church-Global-Warming-Is-Fake-Make-Sure-You-Lock-This-Sliding-Glass-Door-Before-You-Go-To-Bed-Lennie-Briscoe-Is-A-National-Treasure-Oh-And-By-The-Way-We're-Having-Carrabba's-For-Dinner-Tonight-What-Do-You-Want-Me-To-Get-You-I've-Had-The-Crab-Cakes-Before-They're-OK-Land, was harder to leave then I had originally anticipated. However, after a contentious, but rent free, 13 months living in the house I grew up in, I somehow manage to maneuver my way into a corporate job and make a living.

"Making a living" doesn't really mean anything, and while I make money and I am alive, I would hesitate to say that I am really "making a living". I'd say "eking out an existence" is a more accurate representation of what my life has become. Once you get your low-paying entry level corporate position, you make literally just enough money to pay rent and buy enough drinks to distract you from the realization that you make the roughly the same amount of money as someone who works full-time at a retail store in the mall. Until of course you run out of money a week and a half before your next paycheck and you sober up, and sit down at your computer and all of these realizations come instantly to the forefront of your mind.

I guess by this point in the post you've figured out the ugly truth. I am broke. Sure, I'm broke, you're broke- we're all broke! Well, when you say, "I'm broke," you don't really mean that. You mean that you have spent a lot of money in the past few days and your checking account is sagging. You've still got your savings, plus whatever money your parents slip into your coat pocket when you tell them you've got to go put gas in your car or whatever little scheme you've worked out to milk your parents for cash. However, when I say I'm broke, I mean I'm fucking broke. I mean that I'm about two more days of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches away from selling my 360. Well in all honesty I think I'm probably closer to clandestinely selling one of my roommates kidneys on the black market than selling my Xbox, but I digress.

The occasionally grim reality of life on your own, especially at the entry-level AA Trenton Thunder back-up catcher starting point where I'm at, is that you will run out of money. My life consists of the nauseating lows of poverty, broken up twice a month by the dizzying highs of a fresh paycheck. One paycheck; however, immediately disappears into the gaping maw of a small Asian man who had the foresight to buy a crappy brownstone back in the days when the streets of this town were, most likely, littered with the bloated corpses of dead children while crack addicts fought for control of city blocks against packs of wild dogs, or whatever else was going on here before that was so shockingly bad that the very fact normal civilization now exists here is reason enough to charge astoundingly high rent. I don't know if that makes any sense, but it's retardedly expensive to live here in Hoboken and I'm not exactly sure why.

Moving out of your parents house is hard for other reasons as well. You don't realize all of the little things that you will miss, like table tops and garbage cans; shower curtains and silverware. All these things you never even knew existed (what is a mattress cover, really?) suddenly become exceedingly important. And the worst part is, you have to go out and buy it. I already knew about all the things I wanted to buy, and I didn't even have enough money for all that. Now we're making up new completely new products, like the Swiffer WetJet, and I have to buy them too.

But, I do suppose its not all bad. When I get home from work, no one is giving me the third degree with intrusive comments like, "how was your day?" or "are you going to eat dinner with us" or "I picked up and paid for your dry cleaning for you after work, even though it was 25 minute drive in the opposite direction for me." Instead, you get the compassionate silence of an empty apartment, the quiet introspection that comes with killing an invading army of ants with Windex, and that bewildering peanut brittle scent that comes wafting out of my roommate's bedroom.

I suppose I can sum up the real horror of life on your own in this way: Let's say one night you somehow accidentally urinate in your bed. You're so tired and you've got work in the morning, so you just throw a towel on it and keep on sleeping. Then you wake up, take a shower, go to work, share this story with not a single soul, and go about your daily life. Later you go home, maybe half-forget you pissed the bed, maybe you're half too lazy to take your sheets off and take them to the laundromat. If you do take it to the laundromat that Central American lady will know your horrible secret. Your only choice is to fall asleep again on the urine soaked bunk and wake up the next morning to do it all over again. Living on your own, this cruel farce could go on indefinitely. However, at your parents' house, there's only so many times your mom could walk past your room before curiosity and motherly instinct would compel her to change the sheets. Maybe she's not doing for you, maybe she's doing it for herself, or the resale value of the house, but Goddammit it gets done!

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull Review

[This review is pretty much entirely spoiler free, so it is safe to read even if you haven't seen the film.]












Going into a movie like this with the right expectations is no simple feat. I went into the Star Wars prequels with extremely high expectations, and as a result I was supremely disappointed. The first Star Wars prequel not only left me feeling angered and bewildered, but it also made me wonder if the original Star Wars films were even as good as I had remembered. That was my ultimate fear going into Indy 4: that I would not only hate the movie, but it would compromise my love of the previous films as well. It was with these fears and lowered expectations that I regarded the film as it began last night at 12:01 am.

After watching some truly underwhelming trailers, the theater went dark and the glistening green Lucasfilm logo emerged before us. Some nerds began to clap and cheer. I fidgeted in my chair; an almost Pavlovian response to seeing that Lucasfilm logo that had betrayed me so many times before in recent years. The final thought that lingered in my head as the Paramount logo ran: please God, let there be no CGI. The logo faded and the film began, opening with a CGI heavy first shot.

I wish I were kidding, but it's true. You may be wondering, rightfully so, what on earth could even be created with CGI in an Indiana Jones film? This is not Star Wars or Jurassic Park, this is Indiana Jones. Trucks flip over and stuff, and that's pretty much it! It looked fucking awesome in 1981 with Raiders of the Lost Ark, so why did they feel the need to forcefully inject computer generated imagery into every nook and cranny of this film? Well, needless to say, Spielberg and Lucas have found a plethora of things in Indiana Jones to make with CGI, and you are either going to say, "Aw, that's cute," or "Goddammit, they killed everything that I hold dear in this world." But I digress...

The film begins a bit awkwardly as you finally get a glimpse of just how old Harrison Ford is very early on. And he looks old. He's so old that he has old man posture when he stands. With his pants riding high around his navel and his shoulders slouched forward, he looks like an old man you'd see at the grocery store holding a can of evaporated milk in one hand and condensed milk in the other, with a look of profound confusion upon his face. It's so apparent that when you see his younger, more virile stunt double flipping and jumping around, you are instantly taken out of the action. If you can get past all that, I must admit I somewhat enjoyed the first hour of the film.

The first half of the film does have some slick action sequences, and despite his age, Harrison Ford does still throw in a performance worthy of an Indiana Jones film. He is still Indy, albeit an older, grumpier version of the character. Scenes that stand out in my mind are the refrigerator scene and the jungle car chase, which are both pretty neat. Shia Labeof is consistently likable throughout the film, and a surprisingly still good-looking Karen Allen competently reprises her role as Marion Ravenwood. Kate Blanchett is only a mildly believable Soviet villain, but her character disappears for long stretches at a time so it's not really an issue.

After about the halfway point the film takes a turn for the worse, as its increasingly silly storyline takes the movie into a place that I don't think any fan saw coming. I see what they were going for, and anyone who's watched too much of the History channel could have thought up this plot, but I really don't think that this script should have compelled Spielberg and others to actually make this movie. On that note, I don't think any script really would have made this movie a great idea.

Spielberg and Lucas have continued their tradition of making some of the greatest modern heroes and epics, and then going back and negatively altering them. Did they kill Indiana Jones? No, it's an ok film that any real fan should probably see, as long as they aren't expecting to see a Raiders of the Lost Ark-caliber film. Seeing this film is a bit like going back to your elementary school to see your beloved fiery 6th grade history teacher who knew so much and encouraged you to see all you could in the world. Then you go back to visit him and he's completely gray and wrinkled, and starting to go a little crazy. And you think, "Gee, I kinda wish I never saw him like this."

Summer Movies: Tropic Thunder

It's been a while since I've really been impressed by a Ben Stiller film. After the gloriously hilarious Zoolander (2001), his record has been somewhat inconsistent. Dodgeball was, for me, just ok, and Starsky & Hutch blew pretty hard. Well the time has come to redeem A Night in the Museum, and it has come in the form of Tropic Thunder.

Tropic Thunder, which Stiller directed and helped write, features an all-star cast including Stiller, Jack Black, Robert Downey Jr, and others playing actors attempting to film an ambitious Vietnam War film. I was personally on board for this movie once I heard Downey Jr's character undergoes a controversial medical procedure to make him black, in order to get more deeply into character. The reverse Michael Jackson, if you will.

Of course, something goes wrong during filming, and the actors find themselves fighting real guerrillas in the jungle. To get a good idea of what we're in for, click here to watch the red band trailer through itunes. Hopefully it'll live up to its moderate Internet hype, and make us all forget about the fact that sequels to both Madagascar and A Night at the Museum are forthcoming.