Celinda Hines would later drown and be torn apart by Grizzlies. Simultaneously.

I love Oregon Trail.

Not just because it’s useful in airplanes (see below), but, well, it’s a good memory. Most people my age would probably admit to having at least one fond memory of traveling that pixelated trail, the only difference between them and myself being that they’re not still playing the game or writing about it in their blogs. Losers.

It was one of those rainy day games you’d play on the shitty Apple II computers supplied to your elementary school, but it was the best of those games. Screw the Moon Landing or the Multiplication Game with fuzzy monsters or whatever — there were bears and squirrels to be hunted! You’d load that wagon up with 5 of your best friends or some of your family (my dog accompanied me on quite a few trips to Oregon), and you’d do your damndest to keep them all alive. If it didn’t work out, you would mourn over their measled bodies and then continue on down that trail, knowing they were forever looking down on you and ushering you forward into that dream, that dream of OREGON!

Nowadays, I like to fill my wagon with people I hate, feed them meager rations, and then shoot across the wilderness at a grueling pace, throwing everyone into unimaginable peril at every given opportunity. Limbs are broken, snake bites are acquired, and there are drownings. Oh, there are drownings!

It’s all highly therapeutic, of course (or incredibly unhealthy, I’m not sure which). In fact, it would probably be a great game to keep around on your laptop. Load up the Apple II emulator while you’re sitting in the middle row of that cramped 747 and create your own scenario: you’re the leader, “Bastard” is the guy to your left in the window seat hording the arm rest, “Old Hag” is the sleeping grandmother in the aisle seat blocking you from taking a pee, Whore is the flight attendant who cut you off from liquor, “Bitch” is the flight attendant that agreed with her, and “Hellbeast” is the child sitting behind you that won’t stop screaming and kicking your seat.

Jacob Hofsteader would later watch helplessly as
his entire family is scalped and burned alive by indians.

Now watch them DIE. I assure you that a sudden calm and peacefulness will come over you when you learn that “Hellbeast” has drowned in a river fording accident, and that all of your worries will float away down that river with his bloated body. Never will Southwest Airlines have seemed so relaxing.

Fun, fun, fun!

The only problem is when people survive — how are you supposed to vent your frustrations on The Trail if nobody dies from typhoid fever like the stinking shits they are? I guess that’s where the ol’ “vodka in a water bottle” comes in handy. Hey, I didn’t say the game was perfect.

Relavent links:
Oregon Trail Disk Image (courtesy of my bandwidth)
AppleWin Emulator (courtesy of some dude)

“Modern man, a pathetic example of Earth’s organic heritage.”
– Bad Religion

The News says it’s hot. Really, News? You don’t have to tell me that, nor any of the construction workers here in the gulf coast, nor any of my coworkers over at Fed Up. I’d say the buckets of sweat dripping from our dehydrated bodies kinda gave it away. But the thing is:

Earth Hottest It’s Been in 2,000 Years
The Earth is running a slight fever from greenhouse gases, after enjoying relatively stable temperatures for 2,000 years. The National Academy of Sciences, after reconstructing global average surface temperatures for the past two millennia, said Thursday the data are “additional supporting evidence … that human activities are responsible for much of the recent warming.”

I don’t know what to say to that. Wait, I do. WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK WAS GOING TO HAPPEN? I can’t believe there’s even a debate about it. It couldn’t be the 700 million motor vehicles shooting exhaust into the atmosphere, or just the overall pollution caused by our extremely overpopulated societies that’s causing the earth to warm up, could it? That would be crazy. After all, it’s a planet. You can’t hurt a planet. Planets are BIG!



June 6, 2006

Hollywood must burn, for this is the last straw:

The Standard reports that Hong Kong action star Donnie Yen is set to lead in the Hollywood remake of Japanese classic “The Seven Samurai”, alongside George Clooney and Chinese starlet Zhang Ziyi, a film company said.

Why anyone would let these assholes defile one of the best movies ever made with a cheap, trashy remake, I cannot even begin to fathom. This reaks of a pathetic attempt at another “Last Samurai” of sorts, except with Clooney instead of Tom Cruise. Because we all know white American guys are great at playing medieval Japanese samurais. Next up, Bradd Pitt plays an aging Japanese man with cancer in IKIRU!

Speaking of movies, I toured the Crestview theaters today with my friend Gilberto. The theaters don’t take credit cards, so we got to use the ATM. The ATM didn’t work, so we had to run to a gas station. The gas station wouldn’t give us cash back, so we had to go to another gas station across the street. By the time we got into the movies we were sweaty and a little pissed off, but I can’t say that it mattered. Consisting of one trash and popcorn strewn hallway and two or three “theater” rooms with about 30 chairs in each of them, what looked like a whopping 30 inch screen, and a sound system that would rival the hi-fi stereo on your grandmother’s Zenith circa 1972, the Crestview Cinema 3 is a place to behold.

What a catastrophe — and in that way it represents just about everything that is wrong with this town. The ass backward people willing to accept the ass backward hillbilly haunts; it’s all typical. Ah — but this is their den, Drew, and you live in it. Accept your fate.

I think next time I’ll just bring a flask. Maybe I could class the place up a bit by getting really drunk and vomitting on a small child or something.

The point of this, though, is that I went to see X-Men 3 (as if there weren’t enough mutants to cast my eyes upon in this town) and I have to say, man, as a kid who grew up with X-Men comic books and cartoons, these X-Men movies are kinda crappy.

Bet you didn’t see that one coming! You were waiting for a glowing movie review, because that’s what I do on my website. I talk about how nice things are!

My big complaint about sci-fi movies is that there are no rules whatsoever. And I’m curious as to why people choose to hype the X-men movies when there are so many flaws. I’ll forgive the flaws in the comic book, cause that’s a fucking comic book, but these are movies and that means new scripts. So, for instance:

Why does every mutant have an incredibly useful power? What if someone’s only special ability was that they could tell you what time it was without ever needing a watch? I want to see a totally benign mutant.
“Magneto is hurling cars at us! Storm, you send in fog! Wolverine, you attack him with your razor sharp claws! TimeMan… uh, will I make it to my nine o’clock appointment?!”
“Provided you aren’t killed by a flying Suburban, I estimate you might even be early enough to stop by Starbucks for a Frappucino!”
“That would be cutting it close.”

Or better yet, a mutant whose only power is that he can open soup cans. Imagine Xavier trying to reassure that douchebag when he shows up at the mansion looking for support, and all he can do with his telekinetic powers is “open shit up”. He couldn’t really convert to the dark side either, because nobody there would want him. He’d be left to mope around Xavier’s School For Gifted Youngsters all day opening cans of Chunky Soup for people with his brain.
“Anybody seen the can opener? It’s time for some Spaghettios!”
“Why don’t you just go ask Can Opener Boy to open it for you?”
“He always makes such a big deal out of it, though. Last time it was ‘What do I look like to you, a kitchen appliance? And don’t tell me it’s ok! You can shoot lightning out of your god damn fingertips!’ And then he stormed off to his room. Forget that, I’ll just pick one up at Wal-Mart.”
“I need some things too, mind if I come along?”
“That’s cool. Meet me in our super flying jet thing.”

The jet. That technological wonder of a jet that got shot down in the second X-Men movie because it didn’t have any flares to divert the heat-seaking missiles. That one — what the hell is with that thing? The whole ending of that movie was based around their torn up jet, and yet if it wasn’t such a piece of shit, it could have dodged a missile or two and everyone would have been fine. That Rogue chick wouldn’t be buried beneath a billion cubic tons of water and she wouldn’t be a psycho bitch in the third movie.

San Francisco in X3. Would flying across on a trolley or something be asking too much of Magneto? Maybe the reason he decided to rip the ENTIRE GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE out of the middle of the ocean and plow it into the island as a means of transportation was because he was pissed off that a pharmaceutical company turned one of our beloved National Parks into a pill factory. I would be angry, too. I was more upset over the destruction of Alcatraz than I was about the slaughter that took place there.

My last gripe is reserved for the thing that bewildered me the most. Apparently, when someone dies in an X-Men movie, it’s inevitable that they will come back to life. You can’t care about the well being of a character if you know they’re immortal… isn’t that a given? Who cares if they die when at any given moment, they could be resurrected with a flash of light? All it takes is a huge and mysterious explosion that looks like a cross between Christ’s supposed resurrection and aluminum foil in the microwave, and your favorite character is back in the movie, just in time for the sequel! Yay!

I’m waiting for Al Pacino to be cast as Xavier in the next movie. They really could do that, and no one would call their bluff. All they’d have to do is say that Xavier took on the form of an aging Italian with obvious plastic surgery after being blown into little particle bits by Rogue.


People would accept that, too. Cause they’re mutants, man… mutants.

David Hasselhoff is currently filming Knight Rider, the movie, set to be released in 2008.

Wow. All I can do is speculate at this point…

I envision Michael Knight racing around from crime scene to crime scene in his tight leather pants with Reo Speedwagon blasting out of his high quality cassette deck, attempting to save innocent civilians, only to be greeted with unsatisfactory comments like:
“Haha — holy crap. Are you from the 80s or something?”
“Leave me alone, mister. Who are you?”

That would be a good movie. A totally unappreciated superhero.

“Don’t be frightened, I’m here to help.”
“Oh Jesus, look who it is. Nice perm, dude…”
“It’s just naturally curly!”

Then he can turn around and take all of his anger out on KITT with meaninglessly quizzical questions:
“Yes, Michael?”
“You’re a piece of fucking shit, KITT! What’s 204 TIMES 28?”
“5,712, Michael.”
“I’m sorry, Michael.”

Then Michael could burn K.I.T.T. with an iron.
On an entirely unrelated note, here’s James Brown coked to oblivion and, well… he’s James Brown. Papa’s got a wrinkly old bag, but that ain’t stoppin’ Papa!