Defeat, Thy Name is Mario

Creativity is a bit of a mixed bag to possess. Don't get me wrong, it's great to be able to imagine and create things that are of my own design. I think it may be something akin to penis envy. My theory is that creativity is largely our way of channeling the natural instinct to procreate and sire future generations. I'm male, so I can't make babies; I'm a bit crucial to the process, but in the end, all I do is provide the seed. Also, since no one is exactly willing to mate with me at this particular juncture, I've decided to make due with my musings. Ideas are my brain babies, and the great thing about them is that they don't eat or poop, but they do sometimes keep me up at night because they won't shut up.

I think I may have discovered my kryptonite though. There is apparently one thing that dulls my senses to the point where I suffer from a prolonged case of writer's block. It's not inactivity, because I do that all the time and I'm still able to crank out a little nugget of genius every once and a while. It makes me feel a little dirty to actually admit to this thing, because it has been with me for much of my life, and it worries me a bit that it has this effect on me. I'm going to share it with all of you because it does no good to hide things like a critical weakness, because eventually, your archnemesis will discover it anyway and hit you with it when you least expect it. This way, I get to be paranoid about it and be prepared for an impending attack.

My weakness...is video games.

There. I said it. It's out there all pink and naked for all the world to see. Video games give me massive writer's block. I don't quite understand it. I've been playing video games since I was five years old. Over the years they have given me plenty of joy, but at the same time, one could argue that they might also be a soft addiction for me. Whenever I get my hands on a new game, I have to play the hell out of it. I just do. This usually means going until I beat it, but it also may just mean until the shine wears off, but I usually beat it first. I'm voracious at this. I think it goes back to when I was younger and could never afford to by games, so I always rented them. This meant that I only had five days to enjoy a game, so I got really good at finishing just about any game in that time span. Unfortunately, I now have the scratch to buy, but that impulse still resides within me and rears its ugly head from time to time.

To throw myself completely into something like that robs me of the ability to do anything else. When I game, that's all I do. It sucks, because it's fun, but at the same time, I now know what it does to me, so there is a certain bittersweet quality to it now. I can't ever give it up. I love video games too much for that. Maybe moderation is the key? It seems to work for everything else in my life up to this point. We'll see. Rest assured though that I will be putting down the controller soon and be ready to rock and roll for 2009. I can't tell you what to expect, but what fun would it be to know ahead of time anyway? I'm no seer, but I see some interesting times ahead, and rest assured that all of you devoted followers will be privy to whatever useless bits of my wisdom leak out onto the ol' Mind Munch. I've already got one treat in store, but I'll save the details for bit later...

Channel Wipe-Out

I know that television is no great bastion for people of consciousness. In fact, I find that one of its great appeals is its simplicity, at least when it comes to channels. There is a golf channel, a news channel, a men channel, a woman's channel (two actually, three if you count Soap Net), a science channel, a sci-fi channel, and multiple movie channels. What you see is what you get. You never have to ask, "Oh, Country Music Television, I wonder what that channel is about?" The answer is self evident: crappy music sung by semi-literate yokels.

Lately though, there has been a frightening and disturbing shift in TV: airing programming whose content has nothing to do with the premise of the channel on which it is being shown. I first noticed this phenomenon years ago when I saw "Goodfellas" airing on Oxygen, the Oprah channel. I let it slide because I thought maybe women actually have an appreciation for awesome mob movies, plus I don't really watch Oxygen, so it did not really impact my life. What a fool I was. My refusal to nip this problem in the bud would soon spread to my home turf in the worst way imaginable.

I love History. I study it, I live it (well, we all live it), and breathe it. As a result, the History Channel is one of my personal favorites. I'm not going to say that everything they do is the best history lesson, but at least you get what you expect. Not anymore. The channel, now simply known as "History" has forsaken me, the penultimate fan, in favor of a broader appeal. What kind of appeal? Just today, I saw a show entitled "Sex in Space" that was all about the possible ways to bump uglies in zero gravity. Now I'm not going to say that this is a rediculous idea. I've thought about that scenario since I was fifteen, except for one little problem...IT'S NOT HISTORY! Not a single part of it! This is just the tip of the banality iceberg though. You'll have less success finding an actual documentary in a typical History programming lineup than a myopic amputee would at a braille edition of Where's Waldo.

Some of these shows don't even sound real. I'd expect to find a show called "Jurassic Fight Club" to be a parody on a sitcom, not a legitimate (and I use that term loosely) television program. The most obvious thing is that the channel is attempting to compete with Discovery by expanding the definition of history to include natural history. This leads to shows like the aforementioned dinosaur frag-fest, plus "The Universe" and "Monster Quest," shows about everything under and beyond the sun and things that do not even exist (except Bigfoots). Now I like to keep an open mind, but Natural History is not proper History; it's Science. History is the human historical record started around 5,000 years ago in the fertile crescent of east-central Asia. No dinosaurs. No cavemen. No black holes. No giant salamander monsters that inhabit the jugles of Djibouti. It's simple. And I'm not even going to give "Ice Road Truckers" the decency of a rant, sufficed to say that if I wanted to know what these people did for a living, I'd pick up a job application.

I know documentaries aren't everyone's favorite thing to watch. They are the brussels sprouts of the entertainment world, but there are people who like them, including me. It's a shame to see decent informative material get sidelined by populist trash that has less educational value than watching a chimp jerk itself off (that's the kind of stuff you get on Discovery). Luckily, the good stuff has fled to the relative safety of niche channel History International, but it's only a matter of time until this plague of basic cable spreads to the premium package. And if it does happen, we won't know what to do because nobody will have watched that awesome documentary on the Black Death.

In Hoc Signo Vinces, Suckers

The holidays are here again, and there is a certain magic in the air. I can't quite describe it, but it feels like I need to go out and help my fellow man. So that's what I'm gonna do! How will I do it, you ask? Why, through the gifts of understanding and insight, with just a pinch of my perverse desire to destroy people's preconceptions of reality, of course.

Merry Xmas to everyone out there. Yes, I said "Xmas", not "Christmas", but I could have because they mean the exact same thing. Yep, how many times have you seen people write one or the other and then attempt to justify themselves.

"I always write 'Christmas' because I want to remind people what this season is really about." I guess the true meaning of Christmas is apparently correct spelling. Sorry, Linus, I guess you better put the blanket down and rethink your life.

or,

"'Xmas' is better because it is not exclusive to Christians, so more people can enjoy it."

Of course, these two views will bicker back in forth over which one is more appropriate for the season. Ok, you two, settle down, have a seat, warm up some Orville-Redenbacher, and listen to my warm tale of holiday tradition. To start off with, you're both wrong. Especially you, Mr. Secular-Pants.

Here's a little religious history for you folks. One of the earliest symbols used by the Christian cult (yes, in its infancy it was a cult, get over it) was a little thing called the Chi Rho.

Pretty, isn't it? "Chi" and "Rho" are the Greek letters for "X" and "R" and also happen to be the first two letters in the original redition of "Christos" or as you probably know it, "Christ". This symbol has been around since the third century, and Constantine made it the Nike swoosh of the fourth century Roman Empire.

So, to summarize: in Greek, "Christ" starts with an "X", so semantically, Xmas and Christmas mean the exact same thing. In fact, Xmas might even be a little more pious as it is more faithful to the roots of the Church. Feel duped yet?

So why the confusion anyway? It's because people don't do their homework, or at least not the right assignment. Spend a little less time focusing on Algebra where "X" is a blank interger and try cracking a History book next time. I'm not saying that all people need to just get over themselves and celebrate Christmas, because that's rediculous. Who would work on December 25th? What it does show is that this whole PC sensitive-to-all-people-at-all-times is pretty much a crock of shit. You don't like Xmas? Then don't celebrate it! Just don't try to neuter it because it makes you more comfortable. You can't cut Jesus's balls off, he'll just heal them, and probably make them bigger and made of brass so that he'll have no scruples about kicking your ass for trying it in the first place. And don't think he won't do it because he's Jesus. That whole "turn the other cheek" thing is just a way to make his aiming easier.

Chris Crocker Can Finally Shut the Hell Up!

At the risk of sounding like a total whore for the entertainment industry, I feel the need to give some serious props to someone: Ms. Brittney Spears.

Doesn't it feel like yesterday when we were all convinced that we'd see her bald, bloated, drug-addled corpse lying on the floor of a seedy motel room on Entertainment Tonight? Well guess what, America? The bitch is back...with a vengeance. Her new album sold over half a million copies in its first weekend; not too shabby by most measures. She's been running the entertainment circuits and making appearances with Madonna at the annual Who-Gives-A-Flying-Fuck Awards (sadly, there was no making out this time).

I am genuinely happy with how well that chick has turned her life around for a few reasons. One is because, even though I love a high profile train wreck as much as the next person, I actually felt bad for her. I mean, there are psycho hose beasts who get off on that kind of negative PR, but it really seemed like the media was trying to kill her. But we backed off. We let her fade away for a while. I don't know if it was Dr. Drew who made us aware of her problems, or Trey Parker and Matt Stone for pointing out how absurd the whole scenario was, but we gave her some slack to get her shit together. That gives me hope that maybe we aren't quite as morally bankrupt as those preacher folk lead us to believe. As a culture, we've gotten past watching people get mauled by lions to satiate our bloodlust; at least now we don't have to actually go any where to get it.

Another reason Brit's turnaround warms the cockles of my heart is because she holds a special place in my heart...or maybe that's my crotch...I'm not exactly sure. She reached the zenith of her career during my adolescent years. As a young boy on the cusp of becoming a man, I would have sold my own mother for one night with Brittney Spears. C'mon, if you trace her career, she'll appeal to just about any guy with a pulse. Innocent girl with a dirty mind? Check. Teenager whose chastity is questionable? Check. High class stripper? Check. Heir apparent to Madonna? Check. She even appeals to gay guys who wear way too much mascara. Seriously, that cat is the one who needs a doctor, or at least the number of a good beautician. Did the whole of Male America really want to watch one of its greatest sex symbols go out like this? Rule three of The Sex Object Handbook clearly states, "Leave a beautiful corpse."

Finally, now that the Brittney cosmos has once again realigned, there is void in the fabric of public ridicule, ripe to be filled by the giants, he-shes, and bearded ladies of generations past. Now is the time to say farewell to reality TV and welcome back to the ten-in-one from the days of old. Give it back to people know how to exploit a crowd of rubes. All thanks to Brittney. Thank you, Ms. Spears. I do not know you (and desperately wish I did), but thank you.

Reindeer Beats Essay

I don't know why I'm writing something right now. By all rights, my brain should be shut down to the point where only my brainstem is still functioning in order to keep my basic biological functions. I'm not here to bitch about how much final exams suck though, because I get enough of that crap in people's Facebook profiles. Tell me if this sounds familiar: "So-and-So is [insert stupid generic statement about how tough finals are for you]."

Don't get me wrong, a lot of people are under a lot of stress right now and need a way to vent off, and that is perfectly fine and healthy, but do me a favor: exercise, get laid, cry, or whatever, and move on. There is a lot of sympathy from peers in college about this time of year, but try and look at it another way. From the outside looking in, finals have to be one of the most rediculous looking rituals in society. You have young people at their physical and sexual peak, and instead of going out and grabbing life by the balls as is their job, they cloister themselves away for a week, stop sleeping, and do nothing but work. Does that sound normal? Does that sound healthy?


That second question is easy...no it's not healthy. I've seen people do things to themselves this week that most rational individuals would never even consider. When else does combining Red Bull, amphetamines, and Colombian nose candy actually sound like a good idea? It makes me almost wish that I were a drug dealer, they must look forward to this time of year like it was Christmas...in addition to actual Christmas that is. I'll bet a drug dealer's Christmas is sweet.

Everything we do right now goes against what our bodies want us to do.
The body says, "Go to sleep, you need rest." And you respond with "Fuck you; I need to study." So then your body says, "No, fuck you!"

And then you go, "Fuck you!"

And your body is like, "FUCK YOU!!!"

And you're like, "I'll sleep later!"

And it's like, "You sleep now!"

And you're like, "Later!"

And it goes, "NOW!!!"

So you go, "Fuck you!"

And it's like, "FUCK YOU!"


Repeat ad infinitum until you realize that it's 6:00 AM and all you've done is argue with your body all night rather than work on that twelve-page term paper. Nobody wins. Is that what we've come to? Is this what life is about? No. Who else gets to piss away 90% of his time and then blow his whole energy load on a single event? Wait...I know who: Santa Claus.

If you think you've got it bad, think about Santa. This guy is old and out of shape, and he has to do everything in one friggen' night. And nobody give me that magic shit either. St. Nick may be able to bend the laws of our physical reality, but you can't tell me that that doesn't require some degree of effort. Even Jesus broke a sweat once in a while, and he is at least as powerful as Santa. All of you students should drop to your knees and thank God that you're not Santa! At the very least, you should at least have a renewed appreciation for the crap that he does for us. Don't just dismiss him as corporate America's whore; Chris Kringle does more than that. Thank Santa! Love Santa! Worship Santa!

ALL HAIL SANTA!!!

Chunkhi Sighting?

This photo was taken in Eureka, Missouri just a few days ago.

The victim was a family pet that had recently gotten out of its home and was wandering about in the woods. The family launched an extensive search: signs, phone calls to both local police and animal control, and looking both by car and on foot, but with no results. After a week of searching, the family's seven year-old daughter finally gound the body in the forest just a few hundred yards behind the main house.

What sort of monster would do this? There was one witness who, although she was not able to provide any solid details, described hearing two animals struggling, a terrible noise that sounded like howling cluck, and then saw a figure leap into the trees and swing away.

Sound familiar? It is my expert opinion that this poor animal was the victim of a Chunkhi. I had hoped that those reports from a few months ago were hogwash, but unfortunately it seems that they weren't. It looks like a Chinkhi might be around for the holidays.

Lock your doors extra tight this Christmas.

Ranger Rick: Terrorist

It has begun. There is a threat to America greater than any other we have ever faced. Smarter than fascism, more intimidating than communism, and more cunning than Al-Quaeda. Indeed, this group knows no boundaries, no nationality, not even religion. It doesn't even regard species as a concern, save for one: Homo sapiens. To this organization, humans are the scourge of the earth and must be eliminated at all costs. The animals of the wilderness have united to destroy us.

Don't believe me? Have a gander at this:

http://www.kmov.com/video/topvideo-index.html?nvid=310682

Chilling, isn't it? Oh, sure, you may laugh at the seemingly rediculous nature of the story, the scorched racoon prints on the metal plate, and the electric company's light-hearted take on the whole thing, but don't fall for it!

Read between the lines, people! The largest power outage caused by a single animal; fifty-one thousand homes without power. Schools, government offices, and hospitals closed because of it. And this wasn't the first time it has been done either. Isn't it obvious what's going on here? The animals are banding together in a consolidated effort to destroy human society and usurp our role as the dominant force on the planet.

They know that we have superior technology and infrastructure, but that without them, many of us are sitting ducks to the harshness of mother nature. This is why they target our power stations. Taking out our electricity is the fastest way to level the playing field. The frightening thing is that they do not rely on advanced tactics, they survive because of their numbers, and are not above sacrificing one of their own in order accomplish their goal, hence the string of crispy critters found near exploded transformers. That racoon is now in heaven welcoming his seventy-two open dumpsters filled to the brim with refuse. And there are plenty more where he came from willing to give their lives to the cause. Right now, there are caves filled with baby animals being conditioned to follow the animal extermist doctrine.

Not that we humans are passive victims in all of this. There are those among us who fight in the underground against these furry foes. You think zoos are research and conservation facilities? Wake up! They're the prisons where captured animal terrorists are incarcerated and interrogated for information, but so far not much has been obtained, the largest obstacle being that animals can't talk. Why do you think every time a tiger or an elephant escapes from a zoo they go totally apeshit and start killing visitors; if they are going down, they're taking as many of us with them as possible. Chimps aren't trying to be cheeky when they thow poo at you; that's biological warfare.

We have made strides in other areas as well. Some animals do not agree with the doctrine of woodland radicalsim and have defected to our side. This is why we cannot simply go out and kill every animal we see (please, please, don't do that!). The greatest among these is Coco, the gorilla that can speak sign language. She is the Enigma Machine of the war between Man and Animal. Other animals try to avoid conflict entirely; like pandas. Pandas are the hippies of the animal world. They are stupid, lazy, and spend all of their time chomping on leaves and don't give a shit about anything else. They are just as bad as the enemy. Fucking pandas!

Some animals have even infiltrated into our culture and have formed splinter cells on the inside to unravel human society. Some are high profile, like Smokey the Bear and Tony the Tiger. What scares me about these guys is that they are dangerous animals in their own right, but they have become sophisticated enough to gain our trust and respect. Don't be fools! Pets are the same. They pretend to care about us, but they are just biding their time until the Revolution happens. Some may have in fact succumbed to Stockholm Syndrome and do generally love you, but only in a sick twisted terrorist-relating-to-his-hostage kind of way.

With so many critters on earth, how can such an organized movement actually take place? It is because their leader is the most cruel, cunning, and manipulative beast to shuffle about on four legs...Opossum Bin Laden. For years, this crafty marsupial has been pulling the strings of the animal attacks through his various cuddly lieutenents. He is in all seriousness the most dangerous creature on the planet. He will not rest until all humans have been killed and dominated by the beasts of the forest. If you see Opossum Bin Laden, report him to the Department of Homeland Defense so that he can be captured and tried by professionals. Do not attempt to aprehend him! He must be considered armed and dangerous at all times.

Anyone out there who doubts my words with claims of, "Awwww, but they're so cute, though," you are already lost to the enemy's propaganda. You Vichy pussies just better get out of the way once the final atack begins and this goes from an underground terrorist movement into total war. You've been warned.

The Perfect Stocking Stuffer

I'm usually of the opinion that current advertising has never been worse or more oversaturated in our culture, but I saw something today that may have changed that. Traditionally, PSAs have been infamous for their rediculous messages and even more rediculous production quality, but this was unlike anything that I have ever seen, and I feel compulsed to share it with others who are sure to appreciate it. I have struggled to find the commercial online, but to no avail, so I'll simply describe it to you:

"A woman in her thirties is seated in a warmly lit room with hints of holiday decorations, the camera tightens in on her face.
'This year, give your man the gift he really wants. Schedule him for a regular prostate exam.'"

I didn't hear the rest of the commercial because I was too busy gasping for air between guffaws. It's every man's dream to wake up bright and early on Christmas morning, scamper down the stairs to see what Santa brought you for being a good boy this year, but instead of an Xbox 360 or a new bike, you find a doctor with a rubber glove under the tree. It's a Christmas miracle!

Not that I'm against proper health care and the importance of regular checkups, but this has to be the worst Christmas gift ever. Worse than that piece of shit sweater that your myopic aunt gives you every year. I don't even know how it would work. I've tried to figure it out, but I just can't put my finger on it. Do you get a doctor under the tree as described above? Does Santa do it? Sweet Jesus on a Unicycle! That's right, you go to bed tonight with the image of Jolly Ol' Saint Nick pumping your grundle with only the light of the yule log and the Xmas tree to guide that finger that shoots him up your chimmney. If that happens, you might want to forgo the milk and cookies and just leave a box of latex gloves and a bottle of K-Y Jelly. I don't even think prisoners deserve that, and they are used to being sodomized by fat guys with beards.

The commercial was dead serious, but I pray to God that nobody treats it as such. Never before have I been so happy to be young and single. Fellas, if you have a woman and she suggests this to you, kick her ass to the curb! If you think you've got yourself one of the good ones and can't bear with trading her in for a different model, then respond to her in a way to let her know that you respect her opinion and wishes:

"Ok, honey, I'll do this because it's Christmas and I love you, but you have to let me do it to you on my birthday."

Compromise is one of the cornerstones of a healthy relationship after all.