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NAVIGATION
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The Beast Approaches 3-3-06
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Time goes by, slipping through our fingers like sand. I remember a
Calvin and Hobbes comic where Calvin, genius six-year-old that he is,
was able to scuplt a giant snow head and hands and position them just so.
When his dad walked by, it seemed like a giant snow monster was peaking
from behind a hill. That's about what I feel like right now. Wal-Mart
is my giant snow monster. It is glaring down on me with those pearly
black eyes, greedily, but not yet ready to leap out. I can imagine
Steve, the khaki shorts guy (tired joke that he is), watching myself
and Wal-Mart from afar, giving a natural world play-by-play: "Now, as
you can see, the Wal-Mart is not yet ready to pounce on the David. The
David is wily, and has escaped work before. The Wal-Mart knows its best
bet is to wait and let the David get as close as possible before going
in for the kill. CRIKEY, there it goes! Notice how the Wal-Mart
immediately slaps a blue jacket on the David, quickly marking its
possession of him. Now, notice the flood of peppy propaganda, which the
Wal-Mart utilizes to convince its employees-er, rather, Associates-that
they are actually happy
working there. Oh, wow, the Wal-Mart has already parted the David from
its soul. Notice how it takes a piss on the soul before consuming it."
In other news, Star Wars: Empire at War is consuming my life. I
derive so much enjoyment from vigorously rooting out hidden Rebel bases
and crushing the insubordinate scum that I could actually hear the
digitial Rebel Alliance begin to quake in fear when I first acquired
the Death Star. And fear they must.
Every time they manage to win a ground fight, I reward their victory by
obliterating the ground on which they stand. I've got to start seeking
out other people in my area to play at this game, because I've got to
be able to see someone's expression when they see the Death Star moving
slowly, unstoppably toward their planet. "Oh, shit!" they would say.
"It's the Death Star!" followed by frantic evacuations of the system.
To see my enemies wilt in terror...it's clear why Grand Moff Tarkin
refused to leave his seemingly invincible battle station.
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I feel miserable today. Reason being: I've collected a job at Wal-mart. I was eager for this job. I was motivated. I wanted work,
of any kind. Money. Money-money-money. To walk into a store and fish
out my very own green paper, earned by the American dream of labor, is
something I've pined for. But alas, I feel the noose now tightening
around my neck. As I was lead through the backrooms by the storefront
manager, I had the very unsettling sensation of going through the guts
of a giant beast. Sitting down to go over the papers of application, I
was struck by the scene's resemblance to Thomas Anderson's initial
meeting with Agent Smith in the Matrix, being offered a great deal. But
instead of giving him the finger, I turned in the crew of the
Nebuchadnezzar. Sitting in for my second interview, I could not take my
eyes off the card pinned to the manager's vest, celebrating ten years
of employment. I remarked during the session my intent to not stay that
long (jokingly, atleast on the surface). She was quick to point out
that many people working in college or after end up working a much
longer tenure at the Mart of Wals then originally intended. And as I
spole with one final supervisor about my impending drug test, I felt
horrified by the "twenty years of servitude" card displayed, as if proudly,
on her degrading Wal-Mart jacket. I remember the feeling, walking out
those front doors. It was akin to the feeling of being in a video game,
and falling short of your intended goal, but going on to finish the
level anyway. You don't really care if you die. As I walked out into
the street, I didn't even check for cars. Who cares? I work at Wal-Mart
now. Tomorrow, I go the drug lab, and I sign my name in the devil's
foul book in urine. I'm about to give up my time and energy up for
company president whom I've never met, and never plan to. Precious
hours which I could have spent working on writing, I'll now waste
toiling in a factory which steals my being and relinquishes in return
cold, hard cash. I want to cry, but I can't, because now I must put on
a happy face, as there's low prices all over the fuckin' place. I hate
my life.
In the meantime, I have become utterly obsessed with my Nintendo DS.
For all you poor fools still pretending to enjoy your Sony PSP, I say -
you don't know what fun is. Ports? Miniscule movies? Poor battery
times? Honestly, the Nintendo fanboys are laughing at you, but are only
taking time to laugh at you while their precious handhelds recharge. I
have knocked out beautiful music to Electroplanktons, and butted heads
over ridiculously easy WiFi connections on Mario Kart DS (Step 1: Find
another DS; Step 2: Turn on your DS; congratulations, you are
connected). And then I have jumped the fence to peer over the slumped
shoulders of a PSP gamer, to find them playing a dumbed-down version of
Dynasty Warriors through dead pixels or watching a movie which they
might as well have bought the DVD for, to view on a real TV. Though I
enjoy my PlayStation2 immensely, my support of Sony does not extend so
far as to unthinkingly purchase movies for viewing on a three-inch
screen.
I also must make mention of Star Wars: Empire at War, to be released on
the 15th. I must tote my support of this game, so that someone,
somewhere, will also buy it, and I will have someone to play this game
over multiplayer with. I have played the demo, and I believe this to be
a solid title, especially for Star Wars geeks. Namely, myself.
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It Has Arrived -- 02/02/06
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In case you haven't been checking out the community at http://www.penny-arcade.com
lately, the godliest of battles is gearing up. The Penny Arcade:
Artist's Corner Battle Tournament 2006 is underway, in which the
talented artists of the forums take to the paper for the most epic
conflicts you could hope to witness. Seriously, it's going to be
eyeball-gouging, scrotum-kicking, arm-amputating, blood-spouting
goodness, and you're a fool if you miss it. Yours truly even entered a
submission, but unfortunately, my idea for Ted the Ninja, a shadow
warrior who idolizes Teddy Roosevelt, was rejected.
I'm as shocked as any of you.
I've had a chance to get my hands on the still-in-development Auto
Assault. I'd love to claim it's because of my connections in the
industry, but this is, in fact, an open beta for an up-and-coming MMO.
So far, I remain unimpressed. I settled in last weekend for some
rip-roaring runnin' and gunnin,' taking full advantage of the game's
much-toated car customizability. Unfortunately, the actual world is
kind of...boring, and I found my gumption fading not long after the
tutorial. Partly, I know, it's me, as I've never found much joy in the
post-apocalyptic near future of cybernetic implants and redneck
mutants. It all just sort of runs together after a while, and using the
colors brown, black, and everything in between 117 million times in the
game doesn't exactly boost my enthusiasm for an already tired area.
My passion for Resident Evil, however, seems to have hit its peak. I
currently own five titles in the franchise I have not beaten, four of
which I have yet to take out of their cases. So far, the passion is
mostly relegated to just buying the games. And to think none of these
spontaneous purchases includes the critically ejaculated upon Resident
Evil 4! For shame, I know, but I must see this entire story through.
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If you have thoughts, comments, or suggestions, send them to DrPwnt@yahoo.com. We'd love to laugh at them.
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