Thursday, February 04, 2010

Name n Date! - Vargas, Jesus, n a Mullet!

I don't know what possessed me to type in "vargas 1978," but I did and this is what I got:

Punto y Aparte indeed!

If you're not familiar with Name n Date (because it's been a while), I type in a name and a date and post my result(s) on Google Image Search.

So let's do another. How about Jesus 1965?

Dad: drunk; Jr.: stoned; Kid: zombie-ing out on neighbor's penis

WTF? Is this thing broken? Of course not. Jesus by definition should -

I so hate Egyptian history!

Shit. Well, if it's going to be that kind of party, I'm gonna stick my dick in the mashed potatoes.

Let's close with a mullet, shall we?



Short News: G-Spot, Have a (Secret) Smoke


Do you have a G-spot? If you're British, you may not.

A bunch of British scientists did some sexy science and decided that the G-Spot does not really exist. And then the French scientists were like "Oh non, tu fais pas!" because they're the masters of their own baters and their own sexual destinies. Best quote:
The angry French gynecologists said they’d found the real problem with their British counterparts: that they're British.
Ah, those Brits and Frenchies. Always scrappin'.

Put That Out, Drew!

Oh, no. Not in Parma, Ohio! On March 1st, Parma Community General Hospital will begin a new policy: They will not hire smokers.

Okay, so we knew this was coming. No one is surprised.

But the reality of the situation is now wildly apparent. We are heading towards a society where you punch in to your job by standing on a scale and taking a quick blood test to check your cholesterol, drug content, triglycerides, and stress hormones.

Is that okay?

Just wondering.

I'm a Banana

Wednesday, February 03, 2010

Van Mural Wednesday: The Road

The Road goes ever on...

If you're talking about that Kerouac book, you've got it right. What a snoozer! But you're probably not. The road goes on. Then you meet that guy and he drives you instantly mad, drowns you, and takes your clothes. And next thing you know your friends are calling him by your name because he's wearing your sweet thermal. Madness, I say!

Tuesday, February 02, 2010

Jesus and Politics - Or How About Video Games? And...No, Just Video Games. Fallout 3? Dogmeat? Anyone?

Fallout 3 and Dogmeat Forever

Jesus was supposed to be yesterday, but I'm running a little wrong on the side of time because I finally started getting buried in this game called Fallout 3 for the Xbox 360. Engrossing. Potentially hundreds of hours of gameplay (and downloadable content!) and it's killing my productivity.

The most endearing and interesting part of the game is that I have been befriended by a dog named Dogmeat. I know. It says the words "dog meat" in my inventory and I imagine the 6 HP it provides is delicious as much as it is irradiated.

But this is a dog. A real, live, video game dog. And she chooses me as her master.

And I've got to live up to that.

In the Fallout 3 Wasteland, you never know if you're going to bump into a stupid raider that Dogmeat will tear into until you can get a relatively close headshot with the combat shotgun that will make his "momma had a baby and it's head popped off" pop off with requisite spurting blood OR perhaps a small army of super-mutants will crush Dogmeat in three bangs of a water main pipe.

And when that happens, whether you are there to see it or not, you get an impersonal dialogue pop-up that simply states "Dogmeat has died" and an "OK" box.

No, damn you! It's not okay! She's a dog! A dog! She ran after the super mutant on the third floor to protect ME and it took me a while to get up there and he clubbed her with his nail board and I couldn't get there with a stimpak to fill her HP and - SHIT! - a whimper and that fucking box again. Again!

Yes. It happens again and again. Why? Because telling her to stay there brings up a whimper (and if you tell her to stay somewhere and get carried away and forget where you left her, she's gone). So you keep her with you and when you say "Good boy," she barks like fucking Lassie (I realize my disconnect in animal gender, but I do have two female cats: Dorian and Godot).

Then Dogmeat dies. And you lament your decision. You start over at the last save. Because you keep her with you and you move on. The thought of your dog dead will ruin the rest of the game. And she's actually helpful as an alert most of the time with that growl and because for the love of all things Holy, the BEST thing she can do, the reality of the situation, the dialogue choice under "Talk to Dogmeat" that states "Go away and never come back again" makes me want to vomit and cry in that pile of puke for being such a horrible human being.

I'm not sure how I'm going to feel recruiting a Goul named Charon, whom I just met.

I doubt I'll replay as an evil character, though I long to blow up Megaton. I don't have the stomach.

And don't even ask me about Mass Effect 2. Until 2012 when I finally get to it.

I don't think anything about this post is right. I admit it upfront. And yet I'm certain I'm not alone.

And you should play. Obviously, it's engaging. Engrossing.
Happy Tuesday.

UPDATE: I've downloaded the Broken Steel component so I could pop the Level 20 cap. And I now have to deal with some terrible enemies that actually scare me, though I've not even entered the storyline of the download.

Funny plus: Puppies! It's a new perk you can choose at level up so if Dogmeat dies, you can return to 101 and have a new piece of the litter. Litter? I guess the female thing is not so wrong with Dogmeat.