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.

The Inevitable GTA IV Post

Unless you've been living in a cave on Mars for the past few weeks, or in The United Arab Emirates, you've probably heard about Grand Theft Auto IV. After selling an absurd 3.6 million copies and raking in $310 million in a single day, GTA IV has crossed over from a subculture obsession into a mainstream phenomenon. So what is it that makes this game so insanely popular and, in my opinion, so additively entertaining?

First off, it has a painstakingly rendered version of the major New York metropolitan area, with instantly recognizable landmarks such as the Brooklyn Bridge, Empire State Building, and Statue of Liberty. In terms of graphics, everything looks good, from the sunlight shimmering off water to the bloodstains that adorn your car after mowing down a herd of pedestrians. Throw in some movie-caliber writing and voice acting, along with hours of perfectly crafted radio content, and you've already made a superior product.

However, all that is just the foundation on which the house of GTA IV is built. When you pick up the controller and start walking around the city, you realize something more is going on here. After walking out of your apartment, you see a crazy homeless man preaching to an empty street corner about "reptilian death rays" and the like. A woman walks by, picks up her ringing cell phone, and incredulously reacts to news that she bombed her audition. I see a heavily tinted Escalade drive by and attempt to jack it, when three gang bangers jump out and start beating me mercilessly. I would have been killed had the cops not arrived and arrested them. Everything that just occurred was random and could have happened ten different ways.

Another time, I emerged from my apartment and ran across the street blindly to jack a muscle car parked near the sidewalk opposite me. Before I could get close an ambulance came streaking into view, smashing my head into its grill and then the pavement, killing me instantly. It's hard to explain all the awesome ways in which I've been inadvertently killed, but I can almost promise you it's never happened exactly the same way twice.

Yet another time I instantly stole a motorcycle after exiting my apartment. After reaching top speed as quickly as possibly, I invariably smashed into the side of a vehicle, sending me flipping over the handle bars and cartwheeling some thirty feet into the air. My body hit the top of street lamp which I dangled from for a moment before smashing into the pavement with a sickly thud. I was miraculously alive, and as I stood up to collect myself I saw a minivan hurdling towards me just before I was annihilated.

For all the intense story mission and attempts to create scripted, movie-like events, the true glory of GTA exists in the random occurrences that are unpredictable and can sometimes never be recreated. Thanks to the advanced rag-doll physics engine, called Euphoria, every body in the game reacts to the external forces, i.e. speeding stolen vehicles, in both a naturalistic and cartoony fashion. Add that to all the cars, bikes, helicopters, weather cycles, and everything else in this game, and you've created something truly unique and groundbreaking.

I asked my mom to watch me play yesterday so she could see first hand the game that was making all the headlines. After I flipped my SUV by smashing into a sidewalk of pedestrians, she made a Marge Simpson-esque grumble, and asked, "Now, why did you do that?" Though she later admitted that the game was "not her cup of tea," she did seem impressed by the level of detail and sophistication that was clearly evident after only watching me play for 10 minutes. After playing for quite a few hours myself, (the actual number of hours will not be shared here, as to spare me from your judgmental comments) believe me when I say that this game will own your life. But you should probably try to avoid playing it when your parents are watching.

"Dr" Kent Hovind on Dinosaurs

This stuff makes my brain hurt. I'm not here to look down my nose at anyone who believes in whatever religion they choose. However, when an evangelical young-earth creationist looks down their nose at me, I must strike back. Apparently, even other creationists think guy is nuts.

In the above video, we get to see how "Dr" Kent Hovind works dinosaurs into creationist theory. It turns out Noah just took baby dinosaurs onto the boat. DUH!! It doesn't matter that dinosaurs became extinct nearly 65 million years ago, because that's a lie. The Earth itself is only some 6 thousand years old. Forget all that "carbon-dating, fossil record, vestigial organs, genome mapping" nonsense your fascist professors taught you.

Dinosaurs aren't the only targets for debunking in this video, as we learn that wolves, coyotes, and foxes all descended from a common dog, not the other way around. Right...

It all really goes downhill when he points to cultural legends as the basis of proof for all sorts of creationist events. Come to think of it, this video doesn't start off at a particularly high point so I guess it can't ever really go downhill. The video is good for a laugh, then a cry, then maybe a decision to apply for citizenship elsewhere.

Check out the complete series here:
Part2
Part3
Part4
Part5
Part6

Mario Theme Played with RC Car and Bottles

And I thought I had too much time on my hands. This video shows us that with an unlimited amount of time and determination, anything is possible. Ok, maybe all it really shows us is how weird the Japanese are. The theme music to Mario Bros has been recreated thousands of times on the Internet, but never like this.

Pregnant Man On Oprah

In a story that seems to be begging to be the subject of an upcoming South Park, a pregnant man appeared on Oprah recently to tell the world his unusual story. Thomas Beatie, a 34 year old transsexual, appeared on the program with his wife, Nancy, to put to rest rumors that Beatie's pregnancy was a hoax. Beatie was formerly a beauty pageant queen before opting for a more penis-centric existence. Read the full story here.

Despite his fears that he and his child will be perceived as abominations to nature, Beatie decided it was best to make this story as public as possible.

"Having this baby doesn't make me any less of a man," he told Oprah. No, but it does make you more of a woman. I for one am excited at the prospect of finally seeing the events of Arnold Schwarzenegger's Junior beginning to unfold in real life, and I hope Total Recall is soon to follow.

Worse News Than Transformers 2? Bill & Ted and Short Circuit Remakes Confirmed

I really wish I could have been there for the brainstorming session that came up with this idea. MovieHole reports that the rumors are true, and a Bill & Ted remake is officially underway. Not a true sequel, reports indicate that this movie will be a relaunch of the series. Think Batman Begins, except with Bill & Ted, and a lot worse. In all reality, this movie will probably more closely resemble the embarrassingly bad Dumb and Dumberer than anything else.

Why would such a film be made? Is there some underground die-hard Bill & Ted fan base that we've all been blissfully unaware of? Even fans of the original films couldn't be tripping over themselves to see some floppy-haired no name actor doing his best Keanu impression.

In other incomprehensible movie news, Variety reports that Dimension is currently acquiring the rights to remake the 1986 film Short Circuit. No news yet on the plot of the forthcoming remake, but I'm hoping it's going to be something along the lines of Rocky IV. After achieving fame and fortune, Johnny Five has become soft and out of touch with the common man. Living a cushy life in his mansion with a personal robot butler, Johnny has to rediscover his humble origins to defend his honor and save America by fighting a cybernetically enhanced Dolph Lundgren.

Dark Sector Review

If you remember four years ago when Dark Sector was originally announced as the first ever Playstation 3 game, than you're a bigger nerd than I am. The game is finally in stores now and chronicles the light-hearted adventures of a secret agent with the unfortunate name of Hayden Tenno. Sent to a fictional former Soviet Republic to fight some bad guy with a beard, Hayden encounters a deadly virus that transforms people into thick skinned magical monsters. As you've probably already guessed, the storyline is convoluted and pretty forgettable, but it never becomes a burden on the game.

The gameplay is basically an exact replica of Gears of War with a heavy sprinkling of Resident Evil 4 thrown in for good measure. The basic movements and gunplay are identical to that of Gears, though developers unwisely removed the ability to fire blindly over pieces of cover. It's all pretty recognizable and honestly kind pedestrian, until Dark Sector pulls of its Trump card: Xena, the Warrior Princess' blade boomerang! They call it the glaive and make no mention of the lesbian cult figure, but when you get right down to it, Hayden's razor blade Frisbee is basically the same thing Xena's packing.Once the glaive starts flying, the fun really starts, as Hayden is able to chop off enemies' limbs, heads, or torsos. In addition, the glaive is also used as a key to some rudimentary puzzles that spice up the gameplay, or as a boomerang to pick up weapons or items. You can even take control of the glaive while it flies through mid-air, directing it to slice up multiple enemies in one toss. While is quite gory and clearly the reason this game was banned in Australia, it's also undeniably fun.

The title, Dark Sector, is a fitting name, as much of the game is so darkly lit that I found it nearly impossible to discern shapes and objects while playing in my sunlit living room. After fighting through what seemed like 4 levels of sewers, I finally emerged outdoors and into a well lit environment. Overly dark settings aside, the game itself is good looking with strong graphics that are enhanced by some well placed destructible objects.

It's not all good though, especially when the game runs out of steam about halfway through. After a certain point everything seems to stagnate and killing enemy troops and infected civilians kind of becomes a monotonous task. In addition, I hated play as the whiny and unlikeable Hayden. He is a lot like Raiden from Metal Gear Solid 2, except somehow with worse hair. I remember reading an interview on IGN with the developers of this game months back in which they described Hayden as a cross between Jack Bauer from 24 and Wolverine. So tell me again how we ended up with this whiny bitch with an emo haircut?

Dark Sector is a solid action title with some legitimately fun gore thrown in, and if you're into that kind of stuff then you owe it to yourself to play this. However, if $60 is still a lot of money to you, and you don't want to play a game that has the lead singer from Hawthorne Heights as its protagonist, you'd probably be better off just renting it.

Preview of the Newest Office Episode

Clearly the worst casualty of the Writer's Strike, the Office finally makes its triumphant return in just over a week! I found this exclusive clip tucked away in the darkest corner of YouTube. Oh, and happy April Fools Day.

Aqua Teen Hunger Force Movie - Intro

I got a chance to see the Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie Film For Theaters on TV last night. I wouldn't recommend watching it unless you're already a pretty hardcore Aqua Teen fan. However, this intro to the movie is pretty awesome. If only the rest of the film could have kept up this kind of energy.

This Post Really Isn't About Britney Spears

By in large, I find that television is overwhelmingly horrible. Most content on TV is unoriginal, obnoxious, and riddled with so many commercials that I usually find myself angry at the inanimate box broadcasting these images into my brain. There are some noteworthy exceptions to the mindless drivel most people watch, (Two and a Half Men? Seriously a lot of people watch this show?) including shows like The Simpsons (seasons 1-11), Futurama, South Park, and The Office. I do not have some special bias towards animated television, it just kind of works out that way.

South Park in particular has found its way into my heart by becoming increasingly more topical as the show advanced. Given the freedom to create an episode in weeks, as opposed to months for shows like The Simpsons, South Park has been able to lampoon topics still fresh in minds of the informed public. I missed the first two episodes of season 12 over the past two weeks, but was delighted to discover that Comedy Central has decided to stream all 12 seasons of South Park through a fully sanctioned website, called South Park Studios. They do have some short advertisements that cannot be skipped over, but it's still leaps and bounds above watching it with TV commercials.

The second episode of season 12, entitled Britney's New Look, documents the tragic tale of Britney Spears and her continuing fall from grace. The show depicts Britney as a immature woman who no longer maintains the mental stability to make prudent decisions for her life or career. The paparazzi is illustrated, rightfully so, as bloodthirsty vultures who, along with the American public, conspire to drive Britney to suicide. The usually sardonic show illustrated what can only be called sympathy for Ms Spears, as Stan and Kyle tried to take Britney to the North Pole to escape the prying judgmental eyes of the media.

Now, let's all take a deep breath here before any body calls me the next Chris Crocker. I realize that Britney Spears made seemingly conscious decisions to shave her head, repeatedly flash her hooha, and stay in the paparazzi infested waters of LA, and for all these reasons its understandable that she has been shat on. However, like Stan and Kyle, I find myself thinking that maybe enough is enough. Maybe we should just leave Britney alone.

South Park made a valid point by explaining that it is not only the paparazzi and shows like ET and TMZ that are to blame for Britney's inevitable suicide. It is the average American who chuckles at her dazed VMA performance, or the average college girl who religiously reads Us Weekly or People who share the blame. Those pictures the paparazzi take are worth so much money because average semi-intelligent girls leave The Economist or The New York Times on the rack while they gobble up the celebrity gossip rags.

Instead of following what Britney does, let's take a look at what's happening in Iraq, or Tibet perhaps? Maybe you could do some research on indoor pollution? Or maybe, just maybe, you could find out who's running for president? That last one is a bit of a stretch, I know. I know it's not scandalous or fun to live vicariously through the life of kid starving in Africa, but I think they'd actually be happy to be the subject of a magazine or gossip show.

So maybe this post was in some way about Britney Spears. And maybe I'm just as guilty as everyone else.

Can't We All Just Get Along?

I try to avoid playing video games in front of my parents. It gives them less opportunities to question why I'm playing a game instead of looking for a job. Whenever they do manage to catch me in the act of gaming I get a barrage of quietly uttered comments expressing disapproval to whatever my character is doing on screen. Since I'm usually playing Halo 3 or Call of Duty 4, something violent is almost always happening.

My parents really know very little about gaming, save for whatever misguided attempts I make to enlighten them. They, like many in their generation, view gaming as an overly gruesome distraction which channels the creative output of many young boys into a mindless and worthless fantasy. Whenever they hear about games in mainstream media, it's usually as a result of social or political outcry to the newest RockStar game, or a murder case with video games as the prime suspect.

I always stood in opposition to stories such as these, insisting that while video games may be violent and gratuitous, they are also carefully and clearly rated for appropriate ages and offer nothing different from R-rated movies and late night television. I still stand by these statements. That being said, I'm ready to admit that currently there is a bit too much gunplay in video games.

FPS's, or First-Person-Shooters, have always had a special place in the hearts of gamers and activists alike. Their popularity is at an all time high right now, thanks to an Xbox 360 console that seems to be used primarily as a vehicle for online FPS's like Halo 3 and Call of Duty 4. Hundreds of thousands of gamers virtually brutalize each other daily through these two incredibly deep and polished titles. Tomorrow, March 18th, another high profile shooter hits stores, with the release of Tom Clancy's Rainbow 6 Vegas 2. Ridiculous name aside, the title promises another meticulously crafted shooting experience, with a refined and dynamic online multiplayer. While part of me absolutely wants to buy it, I find myself somewhat conflicted.

We (360 owners) already have two of the most popular and most sophisticated online FPS on the market, do we really need another one? I obviously love online fragging, as anyone who knows me personally will attest, but when is enough enough? Imagine if all the resources and manpower that go into creating that intense and brutal gunplay were directed elsewhere, say into games like Shadow of the Colossus or Katamari?

It makes perfect sense that so many of these games targeted at American consumers. America's military technology is always at the forefront of our scientific innovations and discoveries. I guess it should come as no surprise that the country constantly trying to invent the newest, most advanced weaponry ever devised has a video game industry obsessed with emulating it.

If this FPS-crazed market continues, as it appears it will, can we at least ask for some more variety within the shooting genre? Space Marines and WWII are both cool, but we've been down those roads too many times. Prey did have some cool ideas but it failed to truly expand upon them and create anything new. Turok took a step backwards with it's latest release, as the title character was inexplicably changed from a Native American into a much more generic space Marine. Even a game like Gears of War, while not in reality a FPS, (FPS designates a first-person camera perspective, while in GoW the camera is in a third person perspective) certainly had the all too familiar iconography of gruff future Marines killing alien monsters. Even with a brilliant game like BioShock, which certainly stands out proudly among the repetitive military shooters, the case can be made that it's merely a rehash of System Shock 2.

I love shooting and blowing stuff up in a virtual environment more than anyone I know, and yet I find myself wanting something more. I think I've begun to take games like Halo 3 and CoD4 a bit too seriously, so much so that playing them online feels almost like work. Give us some games that challenge our expectations, not just our reflexes.

The Decline and Fall of Creativity in Hollywood

Every year, Hollywood likes to remind everyone in America just how talented and important they are by throwing themselves a 3+ hour self-loving ceremony. They dress up in their finest fashions, answer Ryan Seacrest's innate questions on the red carpet, and take credit for basically everything good and just in this world. The Academy Awards are given such importance that we are forced to watch montages of previous Oscars during the broadcast of the current ceremony. However, despite the pomp and pageantry, this year the 80th Oscars received its worst ratings in history.

Pulling in a paltry 32 million viewers, the Oscars just barely topped American Idol's Thursday night viewership of 30 million. Why are people so disinterested in Hollywood's annual circle jerk? Some say it was the dark and violent tone of the majority of films nominated, like There Will Be Blood, No Country For Old Men, and Sweeny Todd, that turned off viewers. I have a better reason to not watch.

I'm mad at Hollywood because it's lost all semblance of creativity. I'm not necessarily talking about the Oscar nominated films. Those films were critic successes by proven directors, like the Cohen brothers and Paul Thomas Anderson. These guys are the exception in Hollywood, not the norm. The overwhelming majority of films that are greenlit for production are repetitive, derivative, and unoriginal. With the skyrocketing cost of filmmaking, Hollywood executives are afraid to make a movie that hasn't already been made. As a result, we get movies like Alvin and the Chipmunks.

There's been an avalanche of films that are simply remakes of old movies, remakes of old TV shows, or just straight up sequels. Everybody loves the old Pink Panther movies with Inspector Clouseau, but that doesn't mean we want Steve Martin to humiliate himself in a half-baked remake. I don't remember a large public outcry for an Underdog movie, but thats exactly what we got. Nor did we need a movie version of Miami Vice, especially when Bad Boys is pretty much the same thing. I didn't see these films, but I was forced to sit through hours of commercials for them, which is just as bad.

Even remakes or sequels that seem good in theory turn out to be ludicrous to the average observer, or insulting to the loyal fan base. I love the first two Alien movies, and the original Predator is one the greatest action films ever made. The Alien and Predator movies were always R-rated, violent, and awesome. So naturally, Hollywood decided to make a PG-13 Alien Vs Predator movie, in which the female main character befriends and fights alongside the Predator. I'm serious, that's actually what happens. The rancid cherry atop this diseased and festering cake is, of course, the even worse sequel to this film: Alien Vs Predator 2. Great idea, guys!

Some people are benefiting from this overall lack of creativity. By some people, I mean Sylvester Stallone. It seems no one had seen him since Cop Land in 1997, until he got the great idea to remake the only movies that made him famous. Anyone who saw the 2006 remake of Rocky starring this steroid infused sexagenarian with a speech impediment knows how sad it was for both the star and audience. Needless to say, I don't have high hopes for the new Rambo. Following Stallone's lead, 66 year-old Harrison Ford stars in the title role in the upcoming Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. To put that age in perspective, Bruce Willis was 53 when he reprised his role of Detective John McClain in Live Free Or Die Hard. Just bow out gracefully, guys.

Television is not safe either, as former crappy TV shows like Knightrider and The Bionic Woman, have been remade into current crappy TV shows like Knightrider and The Bionic Woman. Even everyone's favorite TV show, The Office is merely a remake of a BBC show, entitled The Office.

Not all Hollywood rip-offs are straight up sequels are remakes. For example, Will Ferrell has continued his earnest effort to become the most overexposed comedic actor of our time, by basically making the same movie three times. Talladega Nights, Blades of Glory, and Semi-Pro are all increasingly bad versions of the same film. I'll concede it is funny seeing Ferrell with his shirt off, but I think they should actually write a script for his next movie.

With the state of entertainment in America these days, I find myself thinking that all of the blame cannot be placed on Hollywood. We, the consuming public are responsible for allowing things to become this way. No matter what movies and television shows are produced, we still have the choice of which ones to watch and which to ignore. So go ahead and skip Saw 5, or change the channel during The Sarah Connor Chronicles. Remember folks, we are the reason why Arrested Development got canceled.

Zen and the Art of Stock Car Racing

Any observant American knows that there are actually two Americas. No, I don't mean North America and South America, smartass. What I mean is that in this vast and great country, there exist two separate mindsets. I hesitate to pigeonhole these two groups into Red States and Blue States, though that works so well for my comparison that I can't resist.

Before I go any further, I want to acknowledge that these are stereotypes I refer to, and in no way representative of all people in either of these categories. Ok, with the disclaimer out of the way, let's start offending people!

A year ago, I was deeply ensconced in the world of Academia. I was a college student, getting a pretentious degree in English. I was surrounded by liberal minded people, listing to indie rock and hip hop. Classroom debates wrestled with the effects of post-colonialism, gender roles, and psychoanalysis. This was a world of secular humanism, elitism, and European beer. Discussions of Fellini and Freud. This was the stronghold of Blue State philosophy.

I would scoff at the plebeian pursuits of the Red States, such as country music, professorial wrestling, and NASCAR racing. These are the kind of people who actually said "freedom fries" a few years back, and meant it. I thought it was clear to anyone with a half a brain that country music sucked, professional wrestling was fake, and NASCAR was boring. I still maintain country music sucks, as does pro wrestling. However, this past Sunday I was sitting at home when my friends called me, asking to come watch the Daytona 500 with them.

Naturally, I was skeptical. I'd never even attempted to sit through a NASCAR race. I barely knew any drivers, I don't own a pickup truck, and to make matters worse I don't even have a mullet. However, the alternative was a Law & Order marathon with my parents. I knew I had no choice.

As I drove to my friend's house to watch the race, I suddenly wondered if I was overdressed. I was, after all, wearing a shirt. I decided it was too late to change into a bare chest and trucker hat, so I continued onward, fully dressed.

I arrived at my destination and met my friends huddled in the basement, surrounded by two TVs blaring the race broadcast. Many were wearing hats with the sponsor of their favorite driver. Surprisingly they all had shirts on, and presumably socks on both feet. I began to rethink my preconceived notions of racing fans when I noticed no one was missing any teeth.

"Grab yourself a beer," they commanded. I reached down into the cooler. Normally, I'd prefer a Stella Artois, Guinness, or some other beer containing "flavor". They had Budweiser. Bud Heavy. In a can. The official beer of the Red States.

The race was already underway. My friends all had a personal favorite driver to root for, adding a critical element of personal involvement. I arbitrarily chose my own driver: Greg Biffle. I tried hard to become emotionally invested in the race.

A few Buds and 20 laps later, I found myself seeing things I hadn't noticed before. The subtlety of drafting; using the car ahead to break up the airflow and gain a valuable few more mphs. My boy Biffle was cruising in 2nd place.

I was getting more into it, though I found the yokel commentators were mildly obnoxious at best. I was growing tired of their overexcited banter when they announced they were going to "crank it up". The race commentary went silent, the screen became uncluttered with displays, and the track microphones were turned up. The only sounds were the roar of the engines and the shriek of the cars flying past. This is how the entire race should have been broadcast. When it ended a few laps later, the announcers returned and my awe faded, but for a precious few moments I think I started to understand the appeal of the sport that dominates the majority of America.

I think in retrospect the race itself is secondary to the experience of watching NASCAR. The main event is drinking cheap domestic beer with friends. It's about laughing in your friend's face when his driver gets slammed into the wall with 10 laps to go, knocking him out of contention. NASCAR itself is a lot like Budweiser beer. It's certainly not the best, and there are many beers I'd much rather be drinking. However, it is easy to drink, cheap, social, and undeniably American.

I don't love NASCAR, and I doubt I'll watch another race until perhaps the next Daytona 500. However, I can now honestly say I at least tried something new and gained a valuable perspective on my native country.

As for country music and pro wrestling...thats a whole 'nother post.

"Do you believe in unlikelihoods!?"

Hello, world. Since I have been unable to secure employment in the last 9 months following my graduation, I have decided to give the world my unsolicited opinion on everything. Hence, this blog.

First off, go Giants. I vividly remember reading the sports section of the Star Ledger after their week 2 loss to Green Bay, declaring the 2007 Giants defense as the worst in franchise history. All these months later, who could have predicted they would hold the NFL's most prolific offense to 14 points?

As for Tom Brady and crew, you'll have to excuse me if I find it hard to feel sorry for them. Brady already has 3 rings, not to mention a harem of exotic supermodels and actresses. I'd be willing to wager good money that the Patriots smiled knowingly to one another when they found out they'd be facing the Giants in Arizona, as if to say their quest for perfection was all but inevitable against the 5th seed from the NFC. Who's smiling smugly now?

Noteworthy for Giants fans must be the conspicuous absence of Tiki Barber and Jeremy Shockey. Without the glare from these two outspoken stars, the Giants flourished. Say what you want about Tiki's comments, but any true fan knows that he was the only bright spot on their roster for about 6 seasons. Despite his prior commitment to the team, he will now be remember only as a ringless traitor to the cause.

As for Shockey, do we even want him back? He was always overflowing with talent and emotion, though it never really translated into results. Kevin Boss didn't exactly set the world on fire, but his contributions were felt throughout New York's championship run.

On another note, the commercials were overwhelmingly underwhelming, as was the commentary from Joe Buck. Despite being a long-time Giants fan, I actually don't mind Troy Aikman as an announcer. Joe Buck, on the other hand, is the bane of my existence. He couldn't open his mouth without inserting a Patriot man stick directly inside it. His anti-NY bias has been evident all season long and came to an infuriating climax this past Sunday.

Anyway, that'll be all for my first foray into blogging. It's been a lot like my first time with a woman, except I don't find myself crying and profusely apologizing afterwards. Though maybe I should be.