Arcade Games: The Sequel

This was apparently popular and I actually missed a few, so I decided to do a second entry. Read the first one here.

I remember we had Golden Axe at K-Mart. They used to put them close to the exit so kids could rob their parents of quarters as they shopped. My mom would shop for hours, so you better believe I went straight to the game. I always chose that dwarf guy who actually had the golden axe, and who can forget playing on a landscape built on the back of a giant turtle or bird? I remember once when my mom finished before I did and then she had to wait in the car for a half hour. She complained, but at least she knew how it felt.
The movie theater we always went to, Loews in Erlanger, had some cool games as well. The theater was notorious in later years for being run down, and still having the same exact games. The one game I remember the most was Terminator 2: Judgement Day. It was cool because it had a machine gun for a controller, but it notoriously ate quarters, while at the same time being generous with extra plays. This made for some confusion, if I recall correctly, because some people slipped several quarters in at the same time, but you shared credits, so you never knew who was getting the extra plays or paying for them. I actually found this game this past year with a friend and we completely defeated it. Good times. 
Big Lots had the Double Dragon game, years late, but it also had Double Dragon II, years late, and it also had Double Dragon III, years late. I played all three of them there, with my uncle who was three years older than me, and we beat each one, so they get a hats off for allowing me to beat a trilogy at the same location. Naturally, the games got more difficult, because consumerism was taking over and it was time to rob players of their quarters, but looking back, I still had a blast. 

A Picture Is Worth a Thousand Words

I can prove this old adage is untrue. 

A picture of "A Thousand Words".

Get a Life, Loser

People believe what they want. I mean they really do, about everything. Some are just hard-wired for it. You're not going to change their minds. But that doesn't stop some people. Some people have to force their viewpoint on you. They will not accept that you have made the choice to blindly believe something you're told, or raised with, or assumed on your own. Most of those are bent on conversion and will not rest until you are on their imagined "side" or at least start questioning everything you believe. Others just like to hear themselves talk, and have the "I'm right, you're wrong" syndrome.

There are entire communities devoted to skepticism. Some in these communities are the good guys. They point out bullshit, especially harmful bullshit, in the interest of helping and saving others. Maybe they've been wronged, or know someone who has, or are crusaders against a perceived wrong. I have no quarrel with them. Others are failed stage magicians with ridiculous egos who force their name onto everything and are just as full of shit as some of the people they "investigate" "scientifically", despite not being a scientist or having any scientific credentials or training. I have a quarrel with them. You know where I'm going with this.

That's great you found a place among similar-minded people, but why on earth do you spend so much time disrupting the lives of others who are not similar-minded and don't want to be. Also, stop lumping people into generic groups; you're not a sociologist. There's probably some dick reading this right now with a BA in sociology saying, "Actually, I am," with a smirk. Fuck off. These armchair experts are not as intelligent as the people they idolize, or even the people they are rallying against, and it's proven by the fact that if they were, they'd have better things to do than to go on the offensive against a bunch of people who want to believe in a spoon-bending Israeli. You don't believe in him. Okay, move along and do something productive with your life.

Notable skeptic, James Randi.

Angry Owls

I'm scrapping the usual Friday segment, because it's not very popular, I personally don't care that much about turning people on to obscure psychedelic music that wasn't very popular to begin with, and who the hell wants to write about that on a Friday? Not me. Instead, I'll try and bring you some interesting owls. You heard that right. Owls are really creepy, and even creepier is that fact that so many people are becoming obsessed with them. 
My mom had one hanging in our kitchen made out of macrame, which I have no clue what that is, but I assume it has to do with how it's made and not the material. Anyway, it hung high, above the stove on the wall and my sister used to call it the Woolly Booger, or something stupid (and years after used to make fun of me for calling elephants skelephants.) I like owls, too, especially that angry owl video on Youtube. Here it is; you cannot un-see or hear:

Changes (Again)

Going to be making some changes to my blog, since it's starting to feel more restrictive than a pair of briefs. I'm not a fan of that when ti comes to creativity, let alone outpouring whatever I want to into blog format. I'll keep some of the more focused blogs that are fun, but sometimes when I'm logging in and start writing, I want to write about something else entirely, yet I'm forced to do something specifically designated for that day. Lame. Look for changes to roll out really soon. 

Random dog picture.

Coffin Birth

Coffin birth is not a subject for the squeamish. Basically, a woman dies, while pregnant, and something, usually decomposition, forces her to expel the fetus of her child. For the most part, all tales of babies being born in actual coffins are bullshit, especially with today's burial practices. However, there are a few interesting cases of it happening, albeit not in a coffin. One of them took place in India, where a woman, 8 months pregnant, couldn't find the will to go on anymore and hung herself. The contractions, having already started prior to the incident, continued long enough to force the baby out and it lived. Not trying to make light of this, as I found it to be exceptionally grim, term aside, but I figured I might as well pass it on. 

Coffin Birth Wiki

Target.com Won’t Ship to Kentucky

I got on their website the other day because someone wanted something and it clearly said it was available online, as well as being reduced in price because of something. I thought to myself, that’s a really cheap price and I’ve seen it sell for two and three times that on eBay. The lady wants it; I’m going to buy it for her. I made an account, because no real man has a Target.com account, and then I put the item in my shopping cart and had it delivered to me. Only a warning popped up that said, “We’re sorry, but we’re dumb, and you can’t have that item shipped to you for no real reason.” Okay, it actually did list a reason and it’s really stupid (and wrong.) “This item can’t be delivered to Kentucky!” Uh, why, because it’s a state in the Union where the majority of everything this side of the entire country ships through? That’s the stupidest response I’ve ever received. Luckily, I assumed it was simply because I had it going to a PO Box and not a street address, changed it, and it worked, but their reason for not initially being able to ship it made me more or less pissed off at them. 

You can't make stupid up.

Arcade Games

Some friends of mine brought up the question of what arcade games do you remember the most. I remembered a ton of them, apparently, and figured I would briefly discuss them here on Game Monday, which rightly sounds like gay Monday when spoken, because we were all happy shoving quarters in the slots back then.
The first arcade game I ever played was Commando at Mike's corner-store a block behind my house. I was pretty good at it, for being so young. I distinctly remember my dad giving in and handing me a quarter. He expected me to die quick, but the ADHD was a gift back then and I could move around the screen for awhile, as my dad sat there talking to the owner. I'd finally die and we'd head back home. Dodging bullets and grenades while mowing down the enemy was such a blast back then.
Then there was the pizza place (Pizza Town, I think) where I got to be the Conan-esque Rastan, or Shinobi the ninja. Both of these games bring back awesome memories. Rastan had a certain creepiness to it, from the music, to that one scene where you get chained to the wall and have to fight off bad guys. Shinobi was so fast paced for the time that it made the old King Fu movies look lame in comparison. You could order a hoagie and play games. No complaints.
Next we went to another corner store we called Barb's, after the owner. They never changed games much, but I do remember Choplifter, where you went into enemy territory to rescue I think POWs, armed only with a helicoptor, before having to return to base. Also, they had Karate Champ, which everyone should be familiar with, since it only had knobs and no buttons. I distinctly remember taking on Ray Jackson and Frank Dux and beating both of them before they invited me to the Kumite, where I was disqualified.
But the granddaddy of them all was the actual arcade at the Florence Mall called Tilt. So many games were played there, but the most memorable ones were Gauntlet, Magic Sword, Smash TV, and of course, Mercs. I distinctly remember beating the latter, because the mercs drove off into the sunset in a jeep, with one of them sitting in the back relaxing as they drove away. It was an amazing time. 

Stress, Anxiety, and Depression

These things can haunt your life, and often do mine. Recently, I've been under it a lot. Writing often helps, even if it's just a tidbit, but you can always tell when I'm in it or not, when it comes to hammering away on the keys. Aside from my sporadic posting, and the one a day entry that I then have to catch up on in a hurry, I try not to show too many signs. But I never directly talk about what is bothering me, even when blowing minor grievances out or proportion. 
I don't handle stress very well. I know, some people think I do, but I'm very big on trying to be prepared for the future as much as possible. I've come to the realization that no amount of prepping will allow me to tackle doomsday, so I've given up on that. But the stress of uncertainty is the one that gets me the most. You cannot control the actions of those around you, can't read their thoughts, and if you're a guy, you're often oblivious to how someone else is feeeling. I've tried to accept that as well. Financially, you can only prepare so much. Either my dollar is not going as far, or I'm living further outside my means than I thought, and that's really sad. 
When the stress gets turned up a notch, I can handle it, but when there doesn't seem to be an end in sight, or the level doesn't return to normal relatively quick, it gets the best of me. I forget to take my meds, most of which are used to combat ADHD, which increases my level of anxiety. I get lost, confused, forget what time or even day it is, and before I know it, weeks or even months have flown by. Everything together leads to depression, and that reduces your energy levels and sometimes even physically hurts, just to move and get up and do something. 
I know that after awhile, most of this will go away. I'll prepare better for the future, and further down the road I will experience this same exact thing, while wondering how it happened again. I persevere, never truly give up, and hope that people reading this who have no clue what I am experiencing have gained a little insight, and people that have it way worse know that I at least understand the basics of what they go through way more than I.  

Ghost Whisperers

My mother was the oldest of eight children, three girls, and five boys. Their house wasn't really large enough to accommodate all of them, but like all families back then, they made due. My mother always had the same bedroom, by herself for many years, until her middle sister was born seven years later, and then her youngest sister was born three years after that. From the time she was little, something in her bedroom would whisper her name every night. She always assumed it was one of her brothers in the adjacent room messing with her, since it was a male voice, but she never knew for certain.
While vacationing with her youngest sister, who is ten years younger than her, they started to discuss the house and eventually got on the subject of how creepy it was. Then my aunt brought up how every night when she was trying to fall asleep, something would whisper her name. My mother revealed the same, and both thought the other was messing with them. The difference between the two experiences is that when my aunt was hearing this, the only other sibling in the house was her brother, my uncle, who was ten years younger than her, which rules out the mischievous sibling.

The Ghosts - When You're Dead (1970)

This album is a range of heavy to folk psych with a lot of memorable, (sometimes overwhelming, sometimes chill,) songs. Some of the songs, ironically, have a very haunting quality, like you're on another plane of existence, or they're performed by the dead. Heavy guitar, heavy organ, nice thumbing base, and both male and female vocals round this one out. This is one of my favorite albums. 

Yo App

Some jerkoff just made a million dollars off an app that says, "Yo?"
Yes, investors have given him that cash because the app, which he made while taking a dump in the bathroom, is nice and simple. This is as bad as those apps that are really just hyperlinks and connect you to a website. The fact that people made money off of them was insulting enough. I would make a STFU app, but it probably already exists and I don't want to even check. 

The app that says it all.

Unethical Human Esperimentation

I was just perusing the eponymous Wikipedia article when I read about Frank Olson. I had heard the story before, but it was a nice refresher. Basically, he was a scientist working for the CIA who was given a wicked dose of LSD, which caused him to hallucinate, go crazy, and then throw himself from a building. Or he was murdered. The CIA was quiet about it because they were testing on the rest of the populace. This is why you don't trust your government and you turn to people like Jesse Ventura for your news.

Human Experimentation Wiki
Frank Olson Wiki
MKULTRA Wiki
Jesse Ventura Wiki

Nobody Cares About World Cup

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Lana Del Rey

I've been a long time fan. I know, it's the last thing most people would expect me to admit to and it's not a joke. I've often said I'm obsessed with her like a gay man is Marilyn Monroe, or Judy Garland, etc. Her new album comes out tomorrow, and while I normally show a lot of restrain when giving into consumerism, I did buy her deluxe edition, as well as the special Urban Outfitters exclusive version. Yeah, I don't even shop there. But I like cruising around at night and listening to her music. It relaxes me. Deal with it.

Islamic State in Iraq and Syria

I'll admit that I don't know much about war as far as it concerns politicians. I'll admit even further that the current state of affairs here in my own country make things even more confusing, since we've had nothing but untrustworthy politicians in office since before I can remember. Iraq is a country divided by primitive hatred along ethnic and religious lines. Sure, not everyone there is like that, but certainly the ones with the guns and willing to murder and die for those beliefs. If I believed we were there to help people, it would be one thing.
But if the United States wants to go to war in another country, because it is raising gas prices by ten cents a gallon, then I'll stick my neck out and say it: I have no problem paying that much extra for gas if it keeps is out of another war, especially ones we cannot win. There were no weapons of mass destruction and these countries were only a threat to us because we keep putting our nose where it doesn't belong. You cannot force America on the rest of the world and if they want to be like America, it would only take the population deciding to. Grow the fuck up.

The Russian Sleep Experiment

Russian researchers kept five people awake for fifteen days back in the 1940's as part of an experiment. They were kept in isolation from the researchers, who listened to them via microphone. Everything was fine for the first five days, aside from their conversations taking a darker turn. Then after nine days, they started going crazy and screaming, and a couple of them smeared their feces on paper and covered the windows. After twelve days, this story starts getting really ridiculous and unbelievable, because it is fiction.    
For whatever reason, this story made it beyond the creepy pasta stages and started popping up on paranormal websites. While I get that these sites ten to post claims and nothing else, anyone who took the time to read at least the first half of the story should have detected that it was less believable the further it went on, and even a simple internet search would yield no credible sources, aside from ones saying it is fiction. What the hell, man?

Andromeda

Right after recording a studio project as The Five Day Week Straw People (which also rules), the three members went on to form Andromeda, yet another awesome psych band, which put out one album before disbanding. Here is their first album, followed by outtakes, etc. for 2 and a half hours. 

Bowe Bergdahl

How much longer before this guy gets his own book and movie deal?

In case you don't know, he's the soldier that was captured by the Taliban five years ago. Yeah, he's apparently coming back home tomorrow. Some claim he's a hero. Most claim he abandoned his post, went AWOL. A small select claim he's a traitor. But I know exactly what he is, a Manchurian Candidate. I don't want to hear anything about that show, Homeland, because that's way too modern to have influenced anything. But the Manchurian Candidate was turned into two movies. Cred. Basically, Bowe's father will run for political office after a few years of his son being back, and then his son will murder the president. He's being controlled by his mother, in case you're unaware. 

Before POW.

After POW.

THIS IS SPARTA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

300th posts, bitches! I've never had a blog go this long without being deleted due to some sort of terms of service violation or other bullshit, and I'd like to thank Google for there liberal policy and standing up for the freedom of speech. I'd also like tot hank my forefathers who overthrew the British, all those other countries, and my other ancestors who were here first, so that we could have a constitution that guarantees that right.

I'm Right, You're Wrong

Because this is my blog and not yours. It expresses my opinions and not yours. People read my blog because they: like it, hate it, disagree with me, agree with me, think it's funny, think it's entertaining, think it's insulting, are doing research on internet psychopaths, or work for the government. I do this because I find it therapeutic, and it's nice that ten people read it (and hundreds get lost here on a regular basis), but your fifteen minutes of recognition are going to be anonymous, since no one will know who I'm talking about, except you. 74 countries and 4 territories stop here. How many people have you reached in your lifetime?

Cold In July (2013/2014/Whenever)

I hate writing reviews, but someone has to. 

People liked Dexter, despite the fact the show peaked with the amazing fourth season, and the other four should have been wrapped up in one. People loved Miami Vice, and everyone wanted to be Sonny Crocket, and now he’s aging like fine wine in recent years. No one’s ever heard of Sam Shepard, but that hasn’t prevented him from being awesome in multiple mediums. Those are your three leads in this awesome film that no one will go see, because the studios have only put a little faith in director Jim Mickle, and writing partner/actor Nick Damici. But that’s okay, because the best way to adapt Joe R. Lansdale material is the low budget, IFC/Sundance route, where actors go to act, and writers go to write, not make big bucks. If you haven’t realized that Michael C. Hall chose this low paying gig because he’s an actual artist and not a businessman, you need to be shot. The same can be said for Shepard, but Don Johnson more or less just does whatever the hell he wants. This film was well suited to him.

The film travels a range of genres. Taking place in the 80’s, complete with station wagons and mullets, this small town film starts out with Richard Dane (Hall) defending his family from an intruder. He becomes a local hero and gets his 15 minutes of fame, until the father of the intruder, Ben Russel (Shepard), decides he wants to play a psychological cat and mouse game in order to get revenge. This is where the conventional film departs and our hero starts having mixed feelings about what he has done, not to mention suspicious that the man they claimed he killed didn’t look the same as the man on the wanted poster. If you expect Dane and Russel to play this game for long and then square off, well, you need to stick with mainstream film.

SPOILERS

Dane saves and kidnaps Russel, then they have a bonding experience digging up the latter’s son’s grave, only to confirm the former’s suspicions. They put aside their differences and Dane is free to return to his normal, boring, small-town life. Enter Johnson’s Jim Bob Luke, the charismatic, southern badass we’ve been waiting for, who helps Russel try to locate his son, who is still alive. Dane is captivated by Russel’s failure as a father and sticks around to help him. The three men bond, and it’s as if Dane was seeking a little excitement, maybe wanting to be more macho, like the two Korean War vets he’s partnered with now. He can’t return to his regular life until this mystery is solved. The investigation reveals some startling info, as it turns out that Russels son isn’t exactly an angel and is responsible for some ghastly deeds. In his absence, he’s created a monster, one that he decided he must destroy. The three set out, in yet another genre switch, to gain revenge and set things right. It ends in traditional tragedy, but that’s all I’ll say.

END SPOILERS

I have ADHD, so the genre switching, combined with the huge number of films I’ve seen, really made this great. Some will complain that Michael C. Hall is unconvincing and you still see Dexter, but I think that fault lies in their expectations, since this character has true remorse, fear, and a wide range of other emotions, more like his character in Six Feet Under; he’s an everyday man, with an everyday mullet and thin moustache, and his actions reflect what a person would probably do, given those circumstances. Sam Shepard and Johnson only overshadow him because they’re playing the parts they’ve been crafting since their start in the business. They did a wonderful job sharing the screen, and as Hall’s character watches the events unfold, his desires are fulfilled and he can finally return to the typical life he now has a newfound love and appreciation for. Also, check out the amazing, synth-laden score that makes you want to snort coke.

I saw the film as an exploration of the changing concept of manhood over the generations. The United States had a big war every decade, where the men came back as heroes, starting in World War II, then Korea, then Vietnam, followed by the remnants of the more shadowy, and less celebrated, Cold War. Men in the late 80’s were still looking for their niche, where they could meet those heroic expectations and utilize the ingrained gun culture, where if you’re not a soldier, you need to at least be a well-armed militia, defending your home and community where others cannot. The film captured a brilliant portrait of the life many of us in my generation knew and loved.  

Bipolar Disorder Isn't a Scapegoat

"People die; it’s as natural as rain on a goddamned Sunday morning." -Oderus Urungus

Every news article I hear now where some deranged psycho goes on a murdering spree, or some teacher fucks half the students in her class, is instantly blamed on bipolar disorder, as if all of societies evils are the result of this mythological beast known as mental health. I hate a lot of people and think a lot of them are stupid. I’ve been dumped, lied to, let down, etc. but I didn’t go around murdering people. As a man, I want to screw everyone, too, but I don’t, because there are consequences for my actions. Whatever happened to labeling people psychos and whores and not blaming it on a mental health issue they probably don’t really have. Bipolar disorder sucks for the 3% of the world that has it, and while they can have mania and depression, which leads to poor decision making and a lowered quality of life, they’re not out murdering and raping people. It used to be schizophrenia that everyone had, until they realized most media portrayals of the condition had created a huge misconception of what it actually entailed; schizophrenics don’t have multiple personalities! But I guess bipolar disorder, which can come with hallucinations and voices in your head, is easy to blame for every retarded thing you’ve ever done. Hell, sign me up. Sorry, officer, I ran that stop sign because voices told me to. Sorry, boss, I punched you in the face because I was suffering a manic episode. People with this disorder know when shit isn’t right and they check their asses into the hospital, or get medicated real quick to chill the hell out. The media is stupid and so are you if you really don’t take a second to look into what bipolar disorder really is. Mania and depression, look the rest up yourself and stop being fucking lazy. 

EVP Is Stupid (Or Is It?)

Maybe I’m making a sweeping generalization, but I just can’t buy it. For thousands of years, people have done everything from reading coffee grounds to taking a steaming pile of shit on ceremonial rocks and claiming they can speak with the dead or see the future. But the interpreter is the only one who can understand. Now that it’s the age of technology, you play back a recording and you hear voices? Right. I’ve had cellphone conversations with strange voices on them, but I’m pretty sure it’s T-Mobile’s crappy service.

The paranormal shows use Electronic Voice Phenomena as a go to method for contacting the dead, primarily when you don’t have an overly theatrical medium. Notice The Dead Files, where you have an investigator and a medium, doesn’t resort to fancy high tech stuff, while Ghost Adventures does. Of course, GA also has regular demonic possession, too, though, so…. Yeah. Similarly, those who contact the dead tend to make some kind of exaggerated action, like contorted faces, grinding teeth as they speak, or overly excited eye movements. They then charge a hundred dollars an hour, while dropping 30 advertisements for their services while on camera. You can buy a digital recorder for that price and use it for years, so I guess if you actually pick some strange sounds up and let the audience decide what they hear, it’s an excellent cost-cutting measure.

But no one lets the audience decide what is spoken. Whenever they break out the recordings, or even that stupid Spirit Box thing that mimics the relaxing sounds of a cattle prod being used next to your eardrum, I close my eyes and ask myself what I am hearing as the “voice” plays. The answer to that is almost always inaudible noise. It’s not until the show tells me what they heard that I actually recognize anything, i.e. I didn’t. At all. Now there have been a few that I was impressed with, but for all I know they are the result of post-production.

Anyone can shoot down a paranormal method in order to sound superior, so I won’t end this here. Instead, I’m going to dig out my old digital recorder and plan on conducting a test. In the event I actually get something, anything, I’ll upload them and ask people to submit what they think they are hearing, after I have written down what I think I am hearing. That sounds like an even better test to me. I’m putting my money where my mouth is. This week, or next week, or sometime soon, expect a response.

Morly Grey

Morley Grey are my kind of psych music. Rather than play a handful of specific songs , they instead encompassed the wide variety that made their music almost sub-genreless. You got a little of everything, from psych, hard, garage, etc. Both sides of their album, The Only Truth, featured a different lineup, but a three-piece each time, with three different singers on different songs. Some people mistakenly thought they were from England, but they were from the heartland, Alliance, OH, here in the United States. Some people also mistakenly thought this album came out in 1969 instead of 1972. 

Capitalizing God Makes You A Religious Fanatic (Lessons In Life)

The other day I responded to someone’s ridiculously outdated and historically inaccurate meme on Facebook. The meme’s main goal was to bash organized religion and promote a non-working scientist to heroic status by blaming the fall of Rome on Christianity. I merely responded that it had less to do with God than it did the high oil prices and a recall of certain chariot models at the time. I assumed she would get my joke, but she didn’t, and instead pointed out that Christianity and a more general belief in “god” has been the cause of the decline of civilization everywhere it went. I countered, again joking, that she may have been confusing Christianity with the British Empire and that they even colonized religion, creating their own version of Christianity in the name of “God”. At this point, she realized I was a “close-minded, ignorant, fundamentalist,” with “little to know knowledge of history,” “probably Republican, homophobic, racist,” and she went on in her rant, so I stopped counting all of the typical bulletin points that define her two-sided categories people fall in. I apologized for only having a minor in history and openly admitted that I only took a few courses in world history and that my professors, and the books we read that were written by historians, were obviously incorrect and disproven by the meme she found on the internet. I went on to include that the fall of one of the largest, most powerful, and probably successful empires of all time obviously only had one cause for its collapse, since there is usually only one cause for pretty much everything, like wars. Then I was also labeled a war monger, which went hand in hand with my worship of the “christian god.” When I asked how she gained such powerful perception and insight into me, she responded that she could tell because I capitalized the word god, and Christianity. Before I was blocked, I merely asked her if she was aware that, in the context she presented it, God is a proper noun, just like Christianity, and the basic rules of English grammar demand they be capitalized, like the first word of a sentence, which she also repeatedly put in lower case.

I’m not really a grammar Nazi, and I get that some devices don’t auto capitalize (or that you’re a fan of e e cummings), but your grammar, spelling, etc. is a measure of your level of education. I’ll ignore typos and even the fact that you can’t type complete sentences, since grammar and education may not be your thing. No judgment at all. But do us all a favor, especially if you’re going to rewrite history, and learn what to capitalize. Also, making assumptions based on nothing at all makes you look like a complete ass. The world is a large place with lots of people that don’t fit so neatly into groups. The only assumptions you should have made about me was that I am a smart-ass, dislike, or at least don’t take seriously, poorly researched memes that have been posted way too many times, and have been classically educated in both history and English. Or maybe I’m wrong?

The Dungarvon Whooper

There is nothing I like to do better on laundry day than watch TV shows and maybe cook something to eat; I hate cooking. So I had some chili on a hot ass day while I did laundry, making it even warmer. In contrast, I watched a TV show, can’t remember what it was called, and they mentioned the Dungarvon Whooper. I know, that looks like a Burger King whopper made out of a pile of shit, but it’s actually an old ghost story from Canada, New Brunswick I believe.

In short, this Irish kid works for a lumber camp, which apparently gets snowed in and they are running out of food. The kid, Ryan, is presented as a hard worker who saves his money to help pay for his mother’s medical care and I assume alcohol, since he’s Irish. One day, some of the men threaten the boss of the camp because they’re hungry, letting him know they’ll have his ass when they return from work if they don’t have any food. Once they leave, the boss decides what better way to feed them than to kill the kid and cook him, (because hunting in the woods, or fishing on the river, is apparently not an option and has never crossed any of their minds.) When the lumberjacks return, they brush their beards, tighten their jeans, downvote pre-2000 psych rock on reddit, and spin the latest Tame Impala album; lumberjacks love the manly sounds of Tame Impala. That night they hear the whooping sounds in the woods. The ghost of Ryan apparently calls out, something he couldn’t do before his death. Or maybe he was cooked in a kettle, like tea, and that was the sound he made when he was done?

Unfortunately, the Wiki article isn’t as entertaining and what little research I did on the internet also didn’t have such a revealing story. The kid dies, sure, but him being made into stew isn’t really covered. I also just now remembered the name of the show. It’s called Hauntings and Horrors and it’s on Destination America, which explains why half of the details were made up for the show. Still an interesting story.

Dungarvon Whooper Wiki

Stop Buying Inconvenient Vinyl

I hardly buy CDs these days because for one, you can take MP3s and make the CD yourself, and two, it rarely comes with anything that makes the physical media worth purchasing. I’m a fan of them not using the plastic cases as much, but the cardboard ones don’t protect the CD worth a damn, so what can you do. If you’re not going to include a booklet, you can at least make your packaging something to look at. And why the hell do people include a booklet with no damn lyrics? Who does that? Instrumental bands and that’s about the only ones with an excuse. It’s pure laziness, like me not writing blog entries every day, cramming on a work day when I’m bored and have nothing to do, only to then backdate them like you are the one not paying attention (or Blogger has some weird server issue and isn’t releasing my entries.)

But the inflated price of vinyl is pissing me off even more. I get that they cost more to make. I also get that they cost more to package and ship. Also, with so many small shops trying to compete with the larger ones (and failing, because they don’t pick up a niche,) it makes it rather difficult to get what you want, especially at a decent price. The internet helps with that, to a degree, but I’ve noticed certain bands from the United States, small ones that no one has ever heard of (the bands, not the states), releasing vinyl albums in other countries and that’s that. You heard me right. A lot of bands will release their album on vinyl in a country like… we’ll say Turkmenistan. We’ll pretend that they’re more into vinyl, have a factory there that can produce them cheaper, and they sell better there. I’m find with that.

What I’m not fine with is these bands not putting forth any effort to get these records here in my own country. I don’t live on a remote fucking island; I live in the country that more or less invented pointless consumerism, and I’d like to buy your vinyl record for a reasonable price. Instead, these bands put links to the label that produced the record for them. In this example, the band, who I will not name, but am certainly tempted to, wants me to purchase their album for 20 euros. Sounds like a decent price. Okay, no, it doesn’t, since this is their debut album and comes with nothing special (not even a gatefold, and it has one, two-sided insert).  20 Euros is damn near 30 dollars, and it’s going to cost me almost 17 to ship the damn thing here, and a lot of countries love FedEx, which doesn’t ship to PO Boxes, or my door, half the time, so I’m not paying 50 bucks for a crap shoot on getting a record from some nobody band that doesn’t have the decency to hook up with a domestic distributor. Take your CDs and shove them up your ass.

Of note, however, is the fact that I can get the album I want for about half the above mentioned price from a few markets. I’ll take this time to single out a few of them. Rarewaves-Imports can be found on Amazon and eBay. And Marvelio can be found on their own site and Amazon. These guys had the album I mentioned above for a reasonable price, and usually do. You’ll get no hipster inflation here. 

Amphicars

Here on Motor Monday I like to discuss vehicles of all types. Today, I’d like to make an appeal to bring back the amphicar. They were a German product sold in the US and UK back in the 60’s, a civilian car that could also be a boat.

I’ve only seen one twice, and I’ve never actually driven or rode in one, but the concept is amazing for people like me, who grew up near the river and always found bridges inconvenient. My hometown is currently debating a bridge toll because the bridges there were not designed to handle the influx of traffic across pretty much  the entire Eastern and Midwestern United States. What better way to pay for it than making the locals, since, you know, they have a huge hand in bringing millions of people across those bridges thanks to the interstate, since there’s not a single legislator that can get our reptilian president to cough up some money? With amphicars, we wouldn’t need bridges at all, except for trucks, but we could just make giant, floating trucks, too. 

LBJ wasn't scared.

ATM Fees

I made the mistake of forgetting not only my lunch, but also one of my bank cards at home, on top of not having enough time to eat breakfast. We have an ATM at our work which is  for a specific bank, like most are, but unfortunately, it was for the same card I left at home. I was forced to use another one. I knew I was about to be ripped off, but I wasn’t aware of how bad. A text popped up and said that the ATM was going to charge me $2.50 for using a card from another bank. Then the text popped up again, talking about the $2.50. I assumed it was the same charge, so I agreed to both of them. When I checked my bank account later that day, I realized it was for two separate charges. Not only did an ATM charge me to take money out of it, my bank did the same thing. My bank, the guys who I bank with charged me. I don’t know much about banking, but I find it weird that both fees were for the same amount, as if a bunch of dicks who run banks sat around and agreed that they should screw people over for the same price, twice. The worst part is that I only withdrew $10. I had shitty lunch and paid a lot of money for it. Hang the bankers. 

ATM fees are usually marked up 600%.