Intellectual Conversation

At some point in life, you begin to realize that some lessons have to be learnt the hard way; my particular realization occurred after I entered into a Facebook-held political argument. For those unfamiliar with this concept and now considering trying this nasty new strand of addictive drug: just don’t – you will regret the shit out of that decision.

It all started, back in mid-June, with this photo:

it makes sense if no one here has actually read the constitution


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50 Shades of Moral Iniquity

The people who know me personally surely are convinced that I am not one to remain silent on highly contentious issues; in fact, while I may refrain from writing about certain issues in order to protect my brain from the subsequent explosion that would most certainly destroy what little intelligence remains post-argument, I never fail to scream at the nearest person without haste about what is wrong with the world today, oh my god?!

Currently, my ire is focused with laser intensity upon E.L. James and her bile-spew of the English language that someone, somewhere saw fit to call a ‘romantic story’ and actually publish, therefore turning everything that I hold sacred, from Reading is FUNdamental to the smell of books to unlikely romance to the art of writing, into a farce so much worse even than Stephanie Meyer could produce. The term ‘mommy porn’ makes me want to simultaneously vomit and tear my out my ovaries (to her credit, E.L. James herself hates the term). I literally sit here now, head in hand, mouth agape, unable to adequately wrangle my thoughts into proper written form, so hindered am I by sheer hatred for this woman. I am not even 1/10th joking; if there is anyone that deserves a message in the form of a dead rat on her porch, it is this woman. With her intolerable trilogy, James has managed to set back feminism – and knowledge of sex, kink and otherwise – at least 30 years. I fear for the younger generation of women growing up on this sludge, assuming that the descriptions of sex and male behavior in this book are true to form; it truly sickens me to imagine the depths of delusion into which this woman will manage to throw these poor girls.

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So Not Tripping the Light Fantastic

In a moment of boredom I went to check out what’s new on xhamster. Instead of the life-changing pornulated experience that I originally expected, I came across…. well, this. It is quite possibly one of the worst unintentionally bad porn videos I have ever seen. You can tell that they were actually making the effort to be as ‘professional’ as possible, however the shiny dew of pure amateurism completely drowned their attempts, and we end up with this abomination. For your convenience, I have compiled a short listing of the tell-tale signs that this (or any) porn has quickly went a bad way:

1. Zebra throw rug splayed ‘romantically’ on the bed. If the idea of a tacky throw rug draped on the bed is your idea of a seduction tactic, you may just want to give up the hope of getting laid without paying for it.

2. Girl refuses to remove ugly, 90s-era gothic boots. I mean, if you’re into Frankenstein, I guess this would be acceptable…

3. Pubic hair shaved into the Starfleet Insignia from Star Trek (or, arguably, a simple arrowhead. However, it’s more entertaining to assume the ST symbol.) Honestly, this wouldn’t be a bad thing were this a role-playing porn or if the ‘actors’ weren’t taking themselves too seriously. Unfortunately, neither is the case here, and seeing this geeky merkin simply evokes raucous laughter.

4. Slew of phrases that are only heard in terrible professional porn (e.g. “I can’t wait to fuck that cock!”) It’s clear with the use of those sorts of phrases that one may be trying just a bit too hard.

5. Worst head-givers of all time. Neither of these people are getting off on the despicable display of oral in this video. This guy takes lapping to a sad new level.

6. Phone ringing at least 3 times throughout the video. Mom, can you call back later?

7. Sexxy Pron Man’s inability to stay hard throughout the video. Cameraman: “Oh, he lost it.” Cut to completely different fuck scene. Clearly all of that head was not doing the trick for this stallion…

8. But anal is just tricky enough. Sexxy Pron Man’s sexxy apendage  is rendered completely flaccid unless he is presented with the magic glory hole. Which shouldn’t strike one with too much confusion when there is clearly…

9.  Major homo-eroticism between the Sexxy Pron Man and the Invisible Cameraman (e.g. the loving hair caress from the cameraman). Maybe this porn would have been better if you’d lost the fag hag, guys.

10. Camera man getting in on the action. You know it’s boring (and amateur) when the man behind the curtain finally makes his appearance.

So there you have it, and let this be a lesson for you. Print it out, stick it in your wallet; do whatever you have to do to keep yourself from suffering as I did.

How To Become a Better Shopper

Each subsequent Christmas season spent toiling away in Generic Retail Store #9,556 has driven me to spew into the psychic atmosphere passionate, rage-driven wishes that every customer who ransacks a store in search of that One T Shirt; strews a fitting room with their fat roll-defining, discarded clothing; pulls out the big guns of attitude with the harried salesperson who lacks the time and ability to be The Personal Shopper; should spend eternity forevermore themselves working in retail.

I don’t believe that the people who actually work in retail truly deserve to work in retail. Every retail associate with whom I have crossed paths has become a better shopper by experience; we know what it’s like to pick up after entitled, All-Too-Busy shoppers and none of us would ever knowingly inflict that torture on anyone else. I believe that every retail associate has something to say and I would like to give them my voice. I would like to make the retail world a better place by passing on our unique brand of wisdom. And so, without further ado, I bring to you ways in which you too can become a respectful, well-liked customer of our wonderful retail establishments!

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We’re A Happy Family

I don’t seem able to remember when it finally hit me that things were different with my family. Possibly in elementary school, when the time inevitably came that Teacher would ask every student to take a moment to tell the class what he or she had done over the summer. I can, however, quite clearly remember the arched eyebrow and confused expression on each teacher’s face as I related my stock answer, “Nothing.” Every other child in the class mentioned trips to the beach or visits to grandmother’s house three states away while I sat, eyes lowered and silently begging my teacher to forget about me. Every summer before the hectic school days gave way to the quiet lethargy of summer vacation I would beg my mother to take us somewhere, anywhere, just so that I, too, would have a travel experience come August. Every time I would be met with the same answer, “You know daddy won’t go anywhere.”

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REVIEW: Resident Evil Operation Raccoon City

I’ve been a fan of the Resident Evil series since 1999. I owe my love of survival horror and serious video games in general (i.e not Mario) to the RE series. So naturally I was uber-excited to learn about Capcom’s new side installment to the series, Resident Evil: Operation Raccoon City, which would non-canonically detail more events of the original outbreak in Raccoon City. Piquing my interest especially was the thought of playing as the bad guys (an idea that as a child I emailed to Capcom – I still have the original letter and response.) My thoughts flew immediately to dreams of local and online co-op, a Heroes Mode wherein I could play interesting side missions as returning RE 2/3 fan favorites, Easter eggs galore throughout the city, familiar locations and events, the option to take down the heroes myself… The possibilities were endless. I entered fangirl nirvana as I watched the trailers, excitement building with subsequent TV spots.

I rushed to my mom’s house to retrieve the game as soon as it was delivered. The box arrived dented; foreshadowing that now seems so clear to me. As I played through the game, I cringed at the controls (shooter controls are not something I get used to easily; it seems so foreign in a Resident Evil game.) I hoped that would be the extent of my disappointment, but alas… I am unable to count the flaws in this game while using both hands – the quickfire ability is terrible, the cover function is horrendous (if you get slightly near the wall your character immediately drops down to take cover), you have to physically look at every item on the ground and be in the perfect spot before you can pick it up, the boss fights are unforgiving and boring, the AI is useless, the weapon choices are hardly varied and item carry is extremely limited, there are always either never enough zombies or way too many, the game lacks local co-op… Most egregiously, this Resident Evil game is simply just an extremely short, boring sub-par shooter; 90% of the game consists of returning fire to the Spec Ops team (Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service soldiers, a choice that should boggle the mind of any true fan – why would two factions of the same team fight each other?) The abrupt nonsensical ending to this game left me with a sadness that I haven’t felt since S.D. Perry’s contract for the RE novels was not renewed.  I have not been more disappointed in a Resident Evil game since I played Darkside Chronicles (as a rail-shooter for the Wii, it  was at least expected to be horrible.)

It is my sincere wish that this game suffered a horrific production murder at the hands of Capcom for a reason: Resident Evil 6 is due out at the end of the year and perhaps they were using all of their best resources and talent instead for that game. I will never be willing to forgive this squandering of my childhood dream for anything less.

“This Would Be So Much Easier If I Didn’t Care So Much…”

My sister broke up with her boyfriend last week, after nearly two years together. It’s really hit me hard; you would almost think that I was the one doing the breaking up. I’ve spent a total of two evenings crying over it; once when my sister first told us all the news, the next time in the car on the way home from taking her to his house to get her stuff.

I couldn’t help drawing the parallels between the sudden ends of my first relationship and my sister’s ex-boyfriend’s (hereafter known only as T Mos – a nickname affectionately given by my mother, as a How I Met Your Mother in-joke) first major relationship. I knew immediately everything that he must be feeling, with what he must be struggling. My heart went out to him, this quiet boy who waltzed so quickly into my family’s hearts after nearly a year of shy keep-away. My stomach fell when I saw the deep purple circles under his eyes. I couldn’t help but cry a little when he kept his half of the Disney cocoa mug that I gave them last Christmas. My heart wrenched when my sister refused his offer to help her carry her stuff to the car. My face fell when he asked me, eyes filled with loneliness, if I wanted to get something to eat, as he hadn’t eaten all day. I felt a pain in my gut when he attempted to touch my sister or share a big dinner with her and she shirked away in response. My eyes streamed hot tears as we told him goodbye and he walked back into the house, alone. And I outright bawled when he sent me a text thanking me for going out with him, that it meant a lot to him and he loved me.

When my first relationship dissolved I would have given anything to have someone who I felt was on my side, someone I could text and thank for being there for me when I needed it most. It would be impossible for me to turn the other cheek when I know this boy’s suffering intimately from my own scarred wounds.

When we were all at the Chinese restaurant having dinner, T Mos’s fortune said to ‘Remember this date. 3 months from now, your life will change for the better.’ I immediately smiled upon reading it, pressed it back into his hand, and told him to keep that one. The significance of that fortune, the only one that’s ever seemed relevant to me in my entire time of eating fortune cookies, practically screamed in it’s red letters, Howler-like: “It’s going to be OK for him, just as it was for you.” Almost as if my slacking healing process depended upon him healing as well, my heart lifted (albeit a little sadly) at this realization, and the bleeding seemed to stop for a bit.  I’m hopeful that we did indeed happen to run across a truly prophetic fortune cookie, and T Mos’s life will indeed change for the better in 3 months, giving him relief from the pain of a broken heart and bringing him hope for his future love.