COMMENTARY - Why Geeks Don't Need Drugs

and
The Epic Saga of a Tribal Warrior, Episode I
If one were asked to conjure up in their head the image of the quintessential geek, I feel it's safe to say that typical substance abuse does not generally come to mind. One does not think of a crackhead, pothead, acid tweaker, nor probably even an alcoholic, but rather some dumpy, disheveled guy staring at a monitor through his thick glasses, with piles of pizza boxes and Mountain Dew cans close at hand. Rather than argue this stereotype (come on, all you geeks know that at some point or another, you fit it...) I'll just continue on with my explanation as to why Geeks don't need such traditional drugs. Oh, they get their drugs alright, but just not as you know them. They're called "video games". Maybe you've heard of them. To a geek, they are just as addictive. They come in varying levels of potency, can result in good or bad trips, and can have just as wide an array of effects on the user, from loss of sleep, anxiety, obsessive behavior, spasms, to even violence and death, under extreme circumstances. At least if you believe the propaganda on FOX every time there's been a school shooting, anyways. Every true geek has at least one of these substances from which they need to get their fix. Most are somewhat casual users, who will restrict themselves to only a couple of drugs, and exhibit some semblance of control over their usage of their substances. While these individuals may seem normal enough during working hours, you can be assured that, once they have a free moment, they will be in front of that computer getting their fix. Just one drug isn't enough for some geeks though. They can soon develop a tolerance resulting from their constant usage of a particular substance, and soon have to move onto the newest and latest drug to keep their fix going, no matter what the cost. $50 and my soul up front, plus $15 a month for the rest of eternity? Sure, no problem, whatever it takes... These geek/junkies are usually fairly easy to identify, with their pasty white complexion, buggy eyes, frazzled hair, and the ever-present black t-shirt. That is to say, if you were to ever see one tear themselves away from their computer and step out into the light of day in the first place, which is a fairly rare occasion. (You may on occasion see them after dark on the weekend at your local laser tag arena though. This is what geek/junkies refer to as "exercise". They may possibly also be spotted at Magic: The Gathering tournaments, which they refer to as "socializing".) Denying a geek their fix is a bad idea. The geek will often suffer withdrawal symptoms, and will begin to exhibit aggressive behavior. Interrupting a geek in the midst of a hit is an even worse idea, and can potentially result in dismemberment of any individual standing between a geek and his drug. Geek "drug" abuse is in fact quite prevalent, and while not technically an illegal substance, it results in varying degrees of the same effects amongst its users and should be considered just as dangerous. Well, except for, no matter what way you put it, there's not much threatening about a dumpy, pasty-complexioned guy who's mousing hand accounts for 90% of his muscle matter... For the record, I myself am as guilty as any here, and have a serious geek drug obsession of my own. It's called Tribes. No, not Tribes 2, I'm talking old school. The original Tribes. I know over the last few weeks, I've been coming up with excuses as to why I haven't been posting, telling you that I've been busy settling in after my big move across the country, and that I've been busy looking for a new job. While these statements may be factual, it is also true that I've probably still managed to put in a good 100 hours of Tribes over the past two weeks. I spent three months (at work) doing nothing but tweaking my collection of scripts, skins, and mods for Tribes. I play obsessively every chance I get. In fact, I am now even going to start inflicting my latest Tribes gaming experiences on my readers, through dramatized recreations of my latest matches. There. That way you can't say I don't update my site often enough anymore. Well... until we get into our new apartment at the end of the week and I'm stuck back on dialup for a while anyways... TribbleHunter and the battle with "Junior" It was a slow night for war. The Hunter surveyed the board for the hottest battle spots at which he could offer his services, but the night seemed occupied only by mere minor skirmishes. Reluctant to turn away at such an early hour without even the faintest taste of blood, he found a sparsely populated location to bring his guns to bear. Landing with a thud, the Hunter set to work. He started with a simple construction of turrets to defend the home base and protect the flag, that worthless piece of fabric stuck on a pole that was for some reason the typical object and focus of the battle. But Trib quickly grew tired of waiting around for the action, and switched into offensive gear to go find the action for himself. Packing chameleon armor with a cloaking device, he was ready to infiltrate the enemy base undetected. At first, it was all too easy. Like a tumbleweed of razorwire, he silently slipped through the enemy base, shredding everything in his path. He swiped the enemy flag right out of their great hall, deftly blasting its two defenders with a well planted plastic explosive charge 2 seconds later. Homeward bound with the enemy's flag on his back, Trib scored one for the home team. And then another. And another. Two round trips later, TribbleHunter found himself on an empty server. The competition had surrendered and headed for home, and his teammates, also declaring victory, had also left, either for home themselves or in search of a more active battlefront. The Hunter was just ready to go look for battle elsewhere himself, when a new enemy warrior arrived on the scene. Somewhat bored with the lack of action, Trib decided to hang out anyway and mess with the guy. Sneaking into his opponent's base, he hacked into one of the enemy inventory stations and began deploying turrets. He chuckled to himself. There was nothing more annoying to an opponent than to be shot down in his own base by enemy offensive turrets. The sound of the Hunter's chuckle quickly turned to a gasp of horror as a large green mortar flew from around the corner and landed at his feet. As he and his cleverly laid defense were blasted to pieces, he heard his opponent scoff. "Offensive turreting? How junior." Respawning back in his own base, Trib shook off the blow. "Junior? How do you define Junior?" he bit back. "Lacking real skill", his adversary retorted. It was at this point Trib noticed the tag before his opponents name. A clanner. While Trib respected clan members for their skill, honed in a fierce competition environment, he was not one to let his solo style be outdone by some trash talking arrogant clanner. "Wanna see real skill then? Meet me for a duel!" the Hunter challenged. Trib had carefully honed his skills in the art of dueling, and while still not able to take on truly elite clanners, he could hold his own and come out on top in most matches. And arrogant clanners always took the bait of a challenge... "Nah, not my style", the clanner replied. TribbleHunter was shocked. Never had a clanner turned down a direct challenge before. He tried again. "What, so you're 'junior' at dueling then?" Surely that would get his attention. The clanner only replied with, "Not really, no." TribbleHunter had little time to sit in frustration over his opponent's lack of cooperation, for he suddenly found himself face to face with the clanner, now standing in his base. A short firefight ensued, and shortly after both warriors were respawning. Conversation ceased at that point, and all further talk was done with a gun barrel. But TribbleHunter was slipping. He had given the clanner the opportunity he needed to enter his base, and obviously being a base infiltration specialist for his clan, Trib was fighting a losing battle. They were fighting on the clanner's terms now. Through each skirmish, the Hunter watched as slowly, inch by inch, he lost more of his base, until he heard that dreaded sound: the clanner had his flag. TribbleHunter redoubled his efforts, and through several more bloody skirmishes managed to return his flag and secure it in the base once more. But the clanner was unrelenting, and soon the sound came again. Trib chased after the clanner, shooting wildly as he took off out the front entrance and jetted out across the sky towards the safety of his own base, carrying that worthless piece of cloth on a stick with him. All had been lost. As the clanner disappeared over the horizon, with flag in tow, the humiliated Hunter dropped his weapons in shame and left for home. He would ponder this. He would contemplate the error of his tactics, and he would be back. No clanner robs TribbleHunter of his honor! Oh yes, my friend, we will meet again...

NEWS - Site Update

Okay, starting to get back on the ball here. I finally changed over the commenting script to Haloscan from BlogOut, which has been out intermittently the past couple weeks, for those who may have noticed. So my small handfull of old comments are now lost forever. Oh well. I doubt Haloscan will crap out on me like that, so I shouldn't have this problem again. Also added a couple new buttons on the column to the left to allow for text resizing on my blog, for those of you who favor something other than 10 point font. Anyways, finding a new job has turned out to be not quite as easy as I expected. I do have a couple interviews tomorrow though, so hopefully things will settle down and get back to normal soon, and I'll be able to post more frequently again. I've been sitting on some good stuff to post too...

LINK - Japaneurysm

I love Japan. Many, many excellent and wonderful things have come out of that country that have enriched all of our lives. Well, at least mine, anyways. That said, this old video for Zelda on the Super Famicon is definitely not one of those shining moments. Cel shading Zelda with Windwaker was outrageous enough, but this video is something far more sinister. I am at a loss for words to describe my contempt at it's nearly sacrilegious portrayal of Zelda, yet at the same time it does have a catchy beat...

NEWS - Warped Core 2: The Wrath of TribbleHunter

If Kahn ever actually had any memorable lines that weren't already quoted from something else, I would put one of them here. Guess who's back? Yes, the tales of my death have been greatly exaggerated. Well, mostly anyways. I lost my job, and while I'm busy trying to file a grievance with the Union in regards to my obviously wrongful termination, I ended up finally moving across the country as I had been trying to do for the past couple years anyway. So I lost my crappy job, for which I might end up getting big bucks from them as a result, and family members paid most of my moving costs to get me out of that hellhole into a more pleasant climate. (To all you suckers still living in Arizona, HAHA, it's 75 degrees and breezy here today. Hope you're enjoying your triple digit temperatures and stagnant, dust-laden air. Oh, and all the fires. We get rain here, so we don't have that problem either.) So where's the downside to this? I can't think of any. Well, other than having to find another job, of course. I looked into retiring, but after buying that cheeseburger I discovered my funds had been noticeably depleted. So upon the revelation that, no matter what way you invest it, 50 cents is not enough to retire upon, I have come to the sad conclusion that I have no other choice but to find another job. Ah well. I can only hope that this one will bear somewhat less of a resemblance to the movie Office Space. At any rate, I'm back, my computer is built, and I have internet access now. That's all that really matters, right? I've got quite a collection of news articles and websites I'll get around to putting up shortly. Also thinking of changing my commenting script to HaloScan now that it's reopened. I'll lose all my old comments, but oh well. Not like anybody ever really uses it anyway. At any rate, I have returned, so be looking for new content again soon. Until then, witness further evidence that cats can ruin absolutely anything. *sigh* I hate cats...

COMMENTARY - The Pink Razor Conspiracy

Sorry it's been so long. I'm still awaiting internet access at home, plus they've finally caught on to me at work with the internet abuse, and I've been issued a semi-formal warning for the misconduct. While that certainly has a way of hampering my posting here, it by no means is going to stop me from providing fresh content to my growing audience of eight. So without further ado, the Pink Razor Conspiracy. Razors used to be a fairly generic and simple object. A cheap plastic stick with one sharp little blade on it. They came in varying colors, but in general were of a unisex model. They all had the same design, and aside from differing shades of plastic, they were otherwise identical. Then along came all these innovations in the area of severing hair follicles from your epidermis. They added more blades, a lubricating pad, and reusable handles with disposable blades. At first they marketed these new inventions mostly to men, but soon discovered that many women were buying them as well. Thus a new variation of the same blade was created specifically for women. So to recap, we went from one generic universal razor to two seemingly identical yet slightly different models varying on sex. Why bother? Why not continue to offer the same universal solution? Solely to make more money, of course. As I said, the two models have slight differences between them. Namely, the women's model lasts longer than the men's model. This forces men to go out and spend more money on new razors with greater frequency, thus making the company more money. So having figured this out, why wouldn't a man just use the woman's razor? Simple. It's pink. No self respecting man would ever shave with some curvy handled pink razor with a name like "Venus". He needs a manly razor, in manly silvers, blacks, and blues, with a manly name, like "Mach 3". Now that's a manly razor. I'm sure all the chicks in the marketing department for Gillette are laughing all the way to the bank.

COMMENTARY - Not enough anti?

It has come to my attention that for an anti-weblog weblog, I don't gripe about weblogs enough. Allow me to remedy that. I had thought about creating an additional list to accompany my list of blogs that don't suck, to encompass the most dreadful, appalling, ghastly, horrific, and otherwise mind numbingly stupid weblogs to be found on the internet. But the problem is, there are just so many of them, and sorting out the absolute worst of them was enough to give me an aneurysm. Besides, the last thing I want to do for a crappy blog is give them a link. So here's a ranting post instead. I have determined that the big problem with weblogs is actually due to their ease of use. Since any idiot can set one up with no more effort than filling out a form and selecting a template, their is no sort of natural selection involved to weed out the marginally literate or the chronically stupid, to prevent them from spreading their incomprehensible idiocy across the internet. Their first week of posting usually resembles something like "test", "testing", "still testing", "First post!", "Hello?", "Is anybody out there?", and "Does this thing work?", after which their seemingly boundless intellect dries up like dog crap on the sidewalk under the summer sun, leaving them with nothing further to say. But they won't let a little thing like content stop them from posting. That's when they start using not only a template for their site, but templates for their posts as well, with stupid lists and quizzes and surveys and horoscopes and little questionnaires that determine which pop singer or movie star your personality supposedly most closely matches. Wow. That's almost as much fun as watching these webcams. Honestly folks, if you don't have anything to say and you are only going to post the exact same thing as every other clueless idiot with a weblog, why bother at all? What's the point of having a site to share your thoughts and creativity when you don't have any of either? You're a pothole on the information superhighway. You are only getting in everybody's way and eventually someone is just going to pave you over.

COMMENTARY - They just don't write children's books like they used to...

I wish this were a joke and I could take credit for some humorous Photoshop work, but sadly enough this book was actually published. Click on the picture if you don't believe me. It's actually rather old, and finding copies to purchase are becoming thankfully scarce, but like any instance of true idiocy, it is nevertheless timeless. What was the author thinking? More importantly, how did a title like that slip by the editors? And would you really want to tell your friends, family, and neighbors that your child learned to cook by Cooking with Pooh? Even children's book aren't safe for children any longer...