I don't particularly want to start writing about videogames again anytime soon, since I did that for the past four years and all it's gotten me is a wussy out-of-shape deformed body, a lack of social skills, and an encyclopedic knowledge of totally useless crap. Like who programmed the "Pac-Man" Atari 2600 port and the proper order of entities and triggers needed to cause a "Half-Life" scientist to say "WANNA SEE SOMETHIN' NEAT?!" before jumping off a roof to his death in a custom map. But this week Sega announced that it's giving up on the Dreamcast to focus only on making games as a third-party publisher. Not even the hip-hop antics of the criminally doofy-looking DJ Swirl can save the Dreamcast now. Doh. When I was a kiddie, I used to think videogames were magical and that World 4-1 in "Super Mario Brothers" really did exist somewhere out there. I read and re-read Nintendo Power, and I think Nintendo missed out on a great opportunity in the late 80's: if only they had thought of giving away forty free NES games of your choice in exchange for your lifetime enlistment in The Nintendo Army, Navy, or Air Force. In just a few short years, Nintendo could have built up a huge army of unstoppable force and taken over the entire world, but instead they decide to spend all their money on making "Pilotwings," "Pokemon Mauve," "Banjo-Toolface," and "Yoshi's Temptation Island" or whatever the hell they're doing. Nice going Nintendo… "now you're playing with power" my ass! Nintendo could be in charge of the entire world by now if they only had planned ahead. All they're in charge of now is a mediocre major league baseball team and a huge stockpile of unsold Virtual Boy machines. BOO!!! BONUS VIDEOGAME JOKE: Tony Hawk Pro Skater? More like Tony Hawk Pro MASTURBATOR! Get it? It's like Deus Goat Secx, except it's from the front instead of the back and far less disturbing.
I don't know about you, but I have really, really, cool dreams. When I go to sleep, it's like I'm watching a messed up foreign television station with the most surreal programming you can imagine. Unfortunately, I don't remember most of my dreams, but I thought I'd give you a totally true (seriously) example of two dreams that I've been fortunate enough to remember:
Inside, it's really dark, but I notice an old 13-inch TV and an Intellivision (it's an old videogame system) with some games I've never seen, including one called Rainbow Lights or something. I'm looking through the games when I notice somebody looking at me from the back room as my eyes adjust to the light (this is a really big treehouse). I don't remember what happened, but I think I pissed somebody off and ended up getting back on the waterslide. But the bus had passed me up in the meantime, and even though I sped down the rest of the slide as fast as I could, when I get to the bottom where everything is just one blue, flat, waterslide road, there's the school bus in the distance and a Police SUV with flashing sirens parked off to the side of the road just behind it. The trooper is leaning against the truck and looking directly at me as I splash down, so I know I'm in big trouble. That's when I woke up. Analysis - I think this dream is trying to tell me that a) I like treehouses, videogames, and waterslides and b) I'm too ugly to ride the bus and any attempt to escape the waterslide of life will result in my quick arrest and violent social embarrassment.
Then I figure a way out of this barn without getting scene, only to end up in another building filled with people and their dogs waiting for a lesson or something. I somehow have acquired a dog and I walk up to the desk with it, trying to come up with an excuse for why I'm there. I don't remember what I say (if anything), but I do remember the dog I'm holding starts chewing and biting the face of a dog standing on the desk while everyone else in the room, including the clerk behind the desk, watches on in total silence. After my dog is done chewing on the other dog, I leave a note on the clerk's desk that says something incredibly witty and leave. After I'm gone, the clerk reads my letter aloud and becomes simply aghast at the clever turn of phrase or insult or joke or rhyme or whatever it is I wrote, and I appear to have won, but I'm not sure what, and I don't think I got my bike back. THE END. This could be the same dream where you have to drive about five miles to get out of Wal-Mart's parking lot campground on the edge of a cliff, only to discover you don't have enough cash to get out at the gate, but I don't think it is. Analysis - Writing about your stupid dreams are a great way to fill up space. Also, I must have eaten LSD breakfast cereal as a kid. In conclusion, it is fun to dream! So dream away, you sleepy saps! |
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