From Russia with love.

Afishionados,

Grand Theft Auto IV has been out for almost two weeks now, has brought in over $500 million, and is still buzzing in the media as to how violent it is and how’s it’s ruining America. I recently saw a video on YouTube featuring Glenn Beck talking about GTA IV. In case you don’t know, Glenn Beck is an asshole and a conservative. I know this is redundant, but I want to make this very clear.

Now, believe it or not, there is an even BIGGER asshole than Glenn Beck in the same video. And no, it’s not Bill O’Reilly, but good guess, though. No, it’s Jack Thompson, an asshole lawyer and a bible-beating Christian. I know this is redundant, too, but I wanted to make this very clear. It’s obvious to me that neither Beck nor Thompson have ever played any of the GTA games, which pretty much makes all their criticism null and void. (It’s like saying, “I hate the taste of this food” if you’ve never tried it before.)

Does your mother know you’re here?

Beck rants about how the game lets you have sex with prostitutes and then kill them and steal their money. This must really bother him, and I’m inclined to agree with him. I don’t know about you, but I only have sex with really good prostitutes and there is no way I would kill them when I was done. I mean, come on! If I did that, I’d have to find a whole new prostitute to sleep with and the might not be as talented as the one I beat to death with my baseball bat. Moral of the story: Treat your hookers with the respect they deserve.

If you’d never heard of Jack Thompson before today then consider yourself lucky. He’s an attorney who seems to specialize in placing the blame of school shootings, the pitfalls of society, and violent acts by youths on the gaming and media industry. The truth of the matter, however, is that he’s really just a self-righteous asshole who’s pissed off the state of Florida to the point where he might be disbarred soon. There really aren’t enough bad things I can say about this fucking moron.

BioShock: Arguably the best game of 2007

Further evidence of Thompson’s downright stupidity can be found right here. Essentially, Thompson was upset that a commercial for the game BioShock (a phenomenally great game, by the way) ran during the WWE’s Smackdown show. I know it’s shocking that something like a violent video game commercial would be shown during a television program as wholesome and moral-filled as wrestling, but apparently it got Jack’s panties in a wad. And what did Thompson do? He wrote a letter to Take Two Interactive and Rockstar Games (the makers of the GTA series). The only problem? Take Two and Rockstar had absolutely nothing to do with BioShock. (BioShock was made my 2K Games.) A good rule of thumb: If you’re going to write and send pointless letters about violent video games, at least make sure you send them to the people actually making the games. Dumbass.

Ultimately, what I believe it comes down to is parental responsibility. Games like GTA and BioShock are rated “M for Mature”, meaning you have to be 17 years or older to buy them. (Well, except for Australia. GTA IV had to be watered down for them because they’re softcore pansies.) This has been brought up many times before by people advocating the ESRB and gaming companies. Are there places that still sell to minors? Sure. But I think there is an even bigger point that people are overlooking, and one I’ve not seen brought up on any show or in any of the debates:

The cost involved in playing the games in the first place.

• The cheapest Xbox 360 is $279.00. And it doesn’t have a hard drive, so you have to spend about $20 more dollars on a memory card. The Xbox that most people own is around $349, which includes the 20 gigabyte hard drive (The memory cards and hard drives are necessary to save and play the games).
• The PlayStation 3 costs $399
• New games for each system (such as GTA IV) cost $60 each.
• You need a television or computer monitor to plug the console into in order to play the game. Prices of TVs are relatively cheap, but flat screen HD televisions are still expensive, especially for kids and teens on a limited budget.

The money to buy those things has to come from somewhere, and I’m willing to bet that it’s from the parents. Or the parents are buying the consoles and games in the first place. Don’t want your kids playing “bad” games? Don’t buy them the systems to play them on. “But what if my kid is exposed to games like GTA at their friend’s house?” I hear you ask. Well, I guess you have a point. In that case, lock your children in the basement and read the Bible together. Or better yet, don’t worry about it. Because chances are (unless they’re really dumb), your kid knows GTA is just a game and will probably turn out fine. And if not, it’s probably something else you screwed up at as a parent and is still not GTA’s fault. It’s probably best that you go and watch Oprah, try to sort out where you went wrong and failed your child, and:

Afishionados,

I’m not a big fan of Hershey’s Kisses. You have to remove a whole roll of tin foil only to uncover a miniature piece of waxy chocolate. They’re more effort than they’re worth. And what’s with the stupid little flag?

I Googled for a photo of Hershey’s Kisses to coincide with my rant, and I discovered that you can buy your child a Hershey’s Kiss costume. Why would anyone do that? This costume is guaranteed to make your kid gay if it’s a boy. The Kiss hat will make him look like a princess. And those saddle shoes? No straight guy wears those. And if you should happen to buy this costume for a girl? It might not make her gay, but it will make her look too dumb to be seen in public. I guess the plus side is that if your child is ugly, you can wrap the dumb flag around their face so no one else is forced to look at them. There’s also good chance that the costume could also make your child a sociopathic killer. Don’t believe me? I offer up this photographic evidence:

Afishionados,

Lotsa folks out there are big supporters of Barack Obama. They’ve all got their reasons, but I’m here to ask you just one question:

Is another black man in Washington D.C. begging for change really what this country needs?

Do the right thing. Vote Polanski.

Click for Larger Size

Afishionados,

Don’t get confused. This ain’t your run-of-the-mill cheap plastic shit. It’s elegant.

Afishionados,

This post comes with fine print. You must agree to the following terms and conditions before reading this post. If you do not agree, click here to go to a happy place.

By reading this post you agree with everything written, said, and/or posted on this blog. By reading this post you acknowledge that you might be one of (though certainly not limited to) the following:

Article I.

1. An Ubercunt.
2. An alcoholic.
3. An Evil Bitch.
4. A drug addict.
5. An absolute waste of human life.
6. A vindictive asshole.
7. A hypochondriac.
8. A liar.

By printing this post or any part of Old Fish and Lemonade and mailing it to ANY attorney you agree to ALL of the following:

Article II.

1. You agree to pay me $15,000 in cash.
2. You’re not worthy of the air you breathe.
3. Everything that I say is always right.
4. You’re completely incapable of doing anything for yourself because you can’t stand up to your parents.
5. I am absolutely fucking awesome.

If you do not agree with ALL of the above you are in violation of the terms and conditions hereby in effect immediately by order of the Awesome King as of this moment on Friday, November 30th in the year of our Lord 2007.

These terms and conditions do not apply to “Fellow Inmates” with the exception of Article II: Section 5.

::Whew:: Sorry about that. It seems that my Fairy Tale post has ruffled some feathers so I had to add a disclaimer for this one. Now, on with the post. And remember, NO PRINTING AND MAILING to attorneys without agreeing to the terms and conditions of this blog. Any similarities to persons or things in real life, no matter how guilty those persons or things’ consciences may be, is pure coincidence.

The Evil Bitch

Once upon a time in Magical Happy Land there lived an Evil Bitch. She was annoying, had short hair, and hunched a lot.

The Hideous and Overweight Scourge of the Land: The Ubercunt

The Evil Bitch could never do anything without the permission of the mentally unstable Ubercunt. No matter how much she thought she was independent, the Evil Bitch was not capable of thinking for herself or making decisions on her own, for fear of upsetting the Ubercunt. Upsetting the Ubercunt would only lead to panic attacks, severe dramatic upchucking, and a fast, albeit pointless, trip to the Room of Emergency.

One day, the Ubercunt got it in her head to continually pester the Awesome King by making shit up and sending him copies of his fairy tales by means of a Loiyar. Though the Ubercunt considered herself a super hero, the reality is that she was nothing more than a fat Ubercunt in really bad tights.

The Ubercunt on its cell phone.

One of the claims of the Ubercunt and the Evil Bitch was that the Awesome King had been “text messaging derogatory messages” to the Ubercunt’s phone. This was not at all true, however, and the Awesome King would be MORE THAN HAPPY AND WILLING to submit the last few records of his cell phone statements as proof. After all, the Awesome King only gets 200 text messages a month with His Majesty’s Service Plan, and why would he waste them on the Ubercunt when he’s since met so many beautiful women at college and work?

The Ubercunt and the Evil Bitch also feared that a specific line from the Awesome King’s Fairy Tale was a threat to their life. “If only they could be silenced forever”. The Awesome King was confused by their reaction to a fictitious tale, and certainly never planned to take the lives of anyone. Especially not with gas at $3.15 a gallon. Sadly, the Ubercunt and Evil Bitch were gravely mistaken if they thought that the Awesome King cared enough to travel so far to do such things. No, children, the Awesome King would never do that. The Awesome King never meant it as a death threat. But no one ever said that the Ubercunt or the Evil Bitch were intelligent and that the Awesome King’s schedule certainly did not revolve around them and their guilty consciences.

The Ubercunt, after learning that the world does not, in fact, revolve around her or the Evil Bitch.

In the end, the Awesome King also reminded the Ubercunt and the Evil Bitch that there existed, even in Magical Happy Land, the Bill of Rights. The Bill of Rights happened to include the First Amendment, which states:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

This gave the Awesome King the ability to continue to write his fictitious stories and share them with his followers and admirers throughout all of Magical Happy Land.

And so, the Awesome King continued to live a happier life with his newfound friends from school and work and the memories of much, MUCH happier times.

Afishionados,

I spent yesterday afternoon with some family members and one weird Wisconsin fan watching the Ohio State game. I am not a football fan and never really have been. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know most of the rules. I will also be the first to admit that I also don’t care what the rules are. I am pretty sure that football would still suck, even if I did learn everything.

I’ve watched a lot of football games, but they have never entertained me. Usually it’s a Super Bowl party and I am just there for the free food. I just don’t understand how so many people can be so infatuated with something that is nothing more than homoerotic male bonding + ballet.

First, the uniforms. Must they be so tight? I’m not saying you have to run around in robes and shit, but come on. Nobody likes when a fat woman wears spandex. But it’s okay for a herd of 300 pound men to wear tighter-than-tight pants? And what’s with all the ass tapping? I don’t want to pat a man on the ass, but it seems like a requirement for football. Blatantly placing one’s hand (or any part thereof) upon another man’s butt cheek is a homosexual act. And that’s fine if you’re into that sort of thing.

The game primarily focuses on these huge guys running around, sweating, and hugging each other. That’s pretty much it. And nothing exciting ever happens. Sure, one of the players will grab the “ball” (which it isn’t) and run hundreds of yards to score a touchdown.

He might be a fast runner, yes, but he’s just gotta outrun those huge gargantuan guys who are trying to fondle tackle him. What is so special about that? Even a New Beetle can outrun a Semi. Plus, a lot of those football cheerleaders are really hot. Why not run after them instead? Why chase the fat dude in the tight pants?

The game also takes hundreds of hours to play. Here’s how this is broken down: The whole ballet team huddles to talk about their next move and how awesome everyone is doing with their toe point and dance routine. Then they form a line, which they hope to touch, grab, and hug other members of the opposing ballet squad. A magical clock is started, runs for 30 seconds or so, and then stops. So even though football has four quarters around 15 minutes long, the clock only runs in 30 second increments.

In between these increments, former ballet players talk about their own glory days, what the new dancers are doing wrong, how great the new ballerinas are doing, and who they think is going to win and why based on their dance routines. A great deal of time is also spent nitpicking video replays of everyone, just in case you missed anything that happened within that 30 second window.

And then there is the mystical flag. At the start of the play, someone always fucks up. It doesn’t matter who or what, but it’s inevitable. You will know when someone fucks up because the Hamburglar comes out of nowhere and throws down his all-powerful flag. He then stops the clock, walks onto the field, and does the dumbest mime impersonation that you’ve ever seen. A lot of people can’t pat their head and rub their stomach at the same time, but the Hamburglar does this on a regular basis. And then, of course, because the clock is stopped, the television has to flash over to the middle-aged commentators arguing about who did or did not fuck up and was the Hamburglar’s call valid.

Eventually, one of the dance teams will win and the crowd will go apeshit. Some TV reporter will then find a dancer who made a great play during the game and ask them the same, retarded questions that are always asked:

“Ballet Man, you guys looked tough out there today! Why do you think your team won?”

The correct answer, of course, is this: “Because our team scored more points than the other team.” But the ballet squad is not allowed or is otherwise incapable of simply stating the truth, so they must reply with bullshit.

“Well, TV guy, our opponents really brought it today and they played a great game. Our team has been working hard and we’ve been really focused, and I think we just came together today and really pulled through. We’ve got some great players on our side who have a lot of talent and we have a lot of great coaching, and I think it could be a good year for us.”

At least the Super Bowl has entertaining commercials.

Afishionados,

Wash your hands because the claptrap is spreading…

Afishionados,

There are many of you out there bitching about the Cleveland Indians mascot being racist. I’ve even gotten comments about it here on my own blog, but I’ve deleted them and decided to do this post because:

1. The Cleveland Indians are awesome, even if they did lose to the Boston Red Sox. I don’t give a shit what you say.

2. For some of you, your fucking team is goddamn laundry.

3. You are retarded.

Therefore, I’ve made my own goddamn team. Since several of you have bitched, moaned, whined, and cried that there’s an abundance of professional sports teams that are “racist”, I’ve decided to pick on Whitey. That’s right, the crackers are gettin’ their own racist team. Suck it up.

The new team is the Honkies. And we bring our own bats. Don’t come crying to us about racist sports teams, because we’ll just smack you upside your ignorant head. We haven’t settled on a city yet, but are open to suggestions.

There are much bigger and much more important problems in the world than “racist” sports teams, so please do the world a favor and just shut the fuck up.

UPDATE: Due to a request from a faithful Honkies fan, I’ve made a small button you can proudly display on your own blog or website to show your team spirit. It’s a transparent .PNG file, so it should look okay on your web site no matter what color your background is. Enjoy, and Go Honkies!

Afishionados,

In the spirit of Mike’s excellent Myth vs. Reality blog, I offer my own submission.

Myth

Reality

Afishionados,

I had to write an article for one of my classes about some element of design. I chose a really interesting article from WIRED magazine that discusses a psychological study on beta testers that played Halo 3 prior to its public release. Bungie Studios hired a psychologist to monitor where people were dying, how they liked the levels, monitored their ammo, etc. to work out bugs and kinks prior to the final release of the game (It’s an interesting article, so you should go read it).

We had to explain to the class the topic of our article and why we chose it. The WIRED article does not mention anything about video game violence and its impact on people, it just discusses the psychological method behind Halo 3’s BETA testing. I made this quite clear during my presentation, but, as with any class, a moron raised their hand.

“Uh, yes, does the article go into any detail about how video game violence affects children?”

It was some annoying, middle-aged woman and apparently a mother of two teenagers. I think she said her kids were 15 and 17 or something but who the hell cares. And I let her in on a little secret: Games come with content labels! If you don’t like the content, then don’t buy the damn game.

Does video game violence cause real life violence? I don’t believe so. I think it’s got more to do with shitty parenting. I mean, I played DOOM, Quake, Half Life, BioShock, etc. and I’ve not killed anyone yet. Does asking a stupid question in class after making my point abundantly clear cause violence? Someone hand me my BFG 9000…