Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Does this count as a guest blog?

My girlfriend sends the weirdest e-mails...

To: Sully
From: Cait
Subject: My Life has been changed

Hi honey! I know I'm going to see you soon, so I really could wait to show you these images, but I think that they're important. I was leaving class yesterday at about 5:15pm and as I walked past a random board in the Biological/Geological Sciences Building (Lapham Hall), I happened to notice a very interesting booklet tacked onto the board. Seeing as I never, ever noticed any booklets like this until this past Hallowe'en, I was amazed that so shortly after having my own eyes opened and my life changed completely because I accepted Jesus, I saw a real-life example of someone witnessing to the godless, college-age masses. It was a wonderful experience. So wonderful, in fact, that I decided that I had to document it and pass it on to you...I know that you'll do the right thing with these pictures, Sean. I like you and all, but nowhere near as much as I love Jesus.

(Does this count toward my 'witnessing for Jesus' points to get me into Heaven?)

Hmm... It seems that my girlfriend is broken and needs a replacement. I've had her two years now, meaning the warranty is up, so I might be as well off to try and fix her myself rather than going through the expensive process of acquiring a new one...

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Smut - Nintendo Style

In a few weeks, Nintendo will be releasing Animal Crossing: City Folk for the Nintendo Wii, the sequel to the Gamecube title released in 2002, a game on which my college housemates and I passed many an hour.

The game is a unique experience, one that could best be compared to The Sims, as there are no 'goals' per se, save for amassing furniture, expanding your house, and interacting with the computer-controlled locals of your town (who get very crabby if you fail to lavish them with attention).

As the release date for the next instalment approaches I've been trying to decide on whether I should spend €50 for the same game again, with only a few new bells and whistles. Of course, one factor swinging my decision in Nintendo's favour is the prospect of sharing the experience with my 12-year old sister and 7 year old brother.

To make sure that nostalgia wouldn't cloud my judgement, I decided to fire up the old Gamecube and go through a typical day in the town of Sultonia [dumb names are a prerequisite for beginning your cities].

6.48 PM: I exit my house and check my mailbox for first time in 8 months...

... and find a strange umbrella attached to note from one of my housemates.
The caustic tone of the letter makes me think of happier times. I weep softly.

6.49 PM: I take a gander at Town Bulletin Board...

... only to realise that the vicious rumours about my sexuality are still in circulation. More soft weeping ensues.
6.50 PM: I decide to pay a visit to Mitch's house, taking note of the reminder he left not to pilfer from his peach tree...

... making sure to read the note he left on the door.

6.51 PM: I stop to marvel at Mitch's new carpeting and giant watermelon.
6.55 PM: I take a quick trip down to my basement to ensure rocketships are safe. Once I find something explosive in this game to combine them with I'll bring this town to its knees!

6.58 PM: Finish practising evil laugh.

7.00 PM: I go to pick some pears, but get a sudden craving for poultry instead.

7.03 PM: I pay a visit to the tailor's to try on the latest threads.

7.04-7.08 PM: I frolic in fields in a carefree manner, proudly displaying my new attire and matching umbrella. Attract odd looks from villagers - this look must be out of style already.

7.09 PM: I hop a train to neighbouring town. Forced to make conversation with mentally-impaired cat-looking-dog.

7.10 PM (Sultonia Time): Arrive at Mitopia, which despite being a 2-minute train journey away is six hours behind, so sun is shining. Much like in Ireland, the public transportation is run by monkeys (har har).

7.11 PM (Sultonia time): Meet up with Hank, the inappropriate chicken...

... and Chuck, my old white-supremacist neighbour. He invites me to a 'meeting' of some description, I opt out.

7.24 PM: After returning to Sultonia, whilst walking through the woods, I spot Mitch's prized cherry tree...
... which I take an axe to...

... "Timbeerrrrr!! Bwahahahahahahahaahahahaahaaaa!!!" That practise earlier really paid off.

So here's what I leart from my visit to the world of Animal Crossing: If you give any drawing tools to unimaginative males, they will invariably draw phalluses, swastikas, and anything else of a crass nature. It doesn't mean they're gay, or anti-semetic, it just means they're stupid.

I think I will get the next game, even if it's the same as the last, purely because the ability to visit my little brother's town will facilitate the scientific undertaking of discerning at what age a boy's motor-system will be overpowered into leaving electronic dicks all over an imaginary village.

Sunday, November 09, 2008

In touch with my base...

(This is what the Internets would call an epic win)

Thursday, November 06, 2008

Ruining it for the rest of us

There are many forms of stupidity on this Earth, but no form of stupidity is as frequently, proudly, and ebulliently broadcasted as religious stupidity.

Speaking of stupid, let's talk about my girlfriend. My girlfriend is great, not only because she recognises what stupidity is and shies away from it at every possible opportunity, but also because she occasionally points me towards the kind of stupidity that I find somewhat entertaining, and says something along the lines of "Go get 'em, tiger". Before I continue with this story, it's important to note that this woman, who willingly identifies herself as my girlfriend, lives in the United States of America. Which as we all know, is the stupidity capital of the world.

Anyhow, this not-at-all-imaginary girlfriend of mine went trick-or-treating with her niece in celebration of the pagan festival, Hallowe'en, with the intention of acquiring sugary snacks from altruistic neighbours. Many of these neighbours obliged the little urchins, providing them with artificially-sweetened sustenance, but some seized the opportunity to pontificate to these diminutive-doorstop-denizens.

A colourful envelope arrived in the post today, and inside were the following documents and a card that read:

I thought you'd really, really enjoy these wonderful treats that Rosie received in her trick-or-treat bag last weekend. I grabbed them before she had a chance to look at them (Thank GOD!) [At which point she drew a smiley-face to drive-home her facetiousness - she's thoughtful like that]

Have fun tearing the people who pass these things out to shreds!

Here are the contents of the envelope, bear in mind that each one of these bears a heavy-handed religious message:

Allow me to espouse Richard Dawkins' oft-jeered position that religion often manifests itself as child-abuse for a moment. I try not to entrench myself in any position too much, but I'm very much of the opinion that distributing this insidious mental-poison to a child who is expecting (a different kind of poisonous) delicious treat is an utterly reprehensible and indefensible act.

My concern is not for the atheistic kids - they have probably been prepared for over-zealous attacks on their emotions by their rationalist parents - my concern is for those children who practice a moderate form of religion and are being targeted to embrace a fundamental, evangelical form of Christianity motivated through fear.

The inherent dishonesty of these pamphlets is astonishing. No parent could object to an apparently cute (though patronisingly simple) maze puzzle, a seemingly patriotic pamphlet fostering interest in the democratic process, or what looks like a spooky ghost story making their way into a treat bag, only to mentally molest [tabloid-style exaggeration for the fun of it] the child once they're alone with their spoils. This cowardly trojan-horse approach is reprehensible [hang on a tick - I've used that word already... Let me consult the thesaurus...] opprobrious!

Flight 144 is a particularly evil story, in which a chap who killed a guy in a drunken barfight meets two old philanthropists (who have dedicated their life to alleviating the suffering of thousands of fellow humans in Africa) on a plane that goes down. The murderer (manslaughterer?) gets to enjoy the spoils of heaven because he preached at his cellmate, whereas the elderly couple are cast into a fiery pit of some description because they didn't harp on about Jesus enough. (I will henceforth point to this example to show that Christianity doesn't necessarily equate to moral guidance 100% of the time, often getting too mired in the worshipping of idols)

I tend to yammer on about things like this for far too long, and I'm sure my feelings on the matter are somewhat evident, so how about you just erase the last 600 words from memory, and take away the summarized version, from the intrepid trick-or-treater’s father:
You have no idea what religious spoil-sports do on an otherwise great holiday for kids in costumes.

Do things like this happen in Ireland? My mother never let us trick-or-treat when I was younger, so I’ve never gone door to door for demanding sweeties like some kind of Jehova’s witness who only has "one heathen's soul" left on his scavenger hunt no idea of what kind of bullshit the good people of Ireland try to pull.

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

Is it wrong that this no longer surprises me?

It's amazing to think that about half of the time I find myself standing at an airport baggage carousel waiting patiently for the bag containing my clothes, toothbrush, contact-lens solution and razorblades (materials outlawed within the cabin thanks to those industrious terrorists), I invariably find myself leaving with some light reading material instead:

On the bright side, however, this does provide an almost-valid excuse for looking and smelling like a hobo. Almost...