Guest Blog by El Oso

Overtime it seems many people have forgotten the most important ingredient to a good gaming experience - the good game.
And by good game I don't mean shader effects, high polygon counts, compelling story lines or any of the other irrelevant nonsense that I don't give a submarining fuck about. I mean the actual game play. The part where you control stuff have it interact with other stuff and your brain generates fun. If i wanted a compelling story, I'd read a book. There are only a few million already in existence, the majority of which are written by people whose talents compare to the best video game writer's the same way Kobe Bryant's penis might compare to that of an poorly endowed tit mouse. If 90 minutes of cut scenes dubed with pornography grade voice acting sounds exciting to you I suggest you immediately navigate your web browser to the local torrent site and download something called a movie. Any one really since apparently you are easily satisfied.
Perhaps i romanticize about the past here but I remember a time when most games were about being challenged to explore new game play mechanics. About learning and solving new puzzles about employing your skills against all types of adversary and about feeling proud of your accomplishments.
Now the mostly shiny particle effected vessels guiding any soccer mom caliber gamer through a generally third grade level story where anyone with a brain the size of a steroid shrunken testicle can pretend to be a hero and maintain a fantasy of not sucking balls at video games.
"But...But I need a background story"...do you really need a background story to play Donkey Kong - you twat?? How about poker or football? If the process of playing a game isn't fun for you - maybe you're not a gamer. Not that i am unappreciative for all my free kills in WoW. But lately I've become rather miffed at the notion, that this overwhelming number of noobs has negatively influenced the direction of video game design forever. Instead of humanity persuing the development of the next chess we have an endless supply of 8 hour long interactive B-movie experiences at $60 a pop with unimaginative reskinned sequals announced exactly 3 seconds after the current product is launched.
Congratulations Noobs you've effectively raised an army of consumer gaming zombies who conviently seem to lack no only artistic standards but opposable thumbs. I'd be inclined to look the other way and ignore the thumbless zombie parade but the bummbling whiners have the audacity to hate on us - the gamers that are playing the game for game play. But the truth is the only imbalance is coming from your underdeveloped inner ear you uncoordinated ball of ghey. I'm truly sorry you got your clumsy ass kicked around in gym class like a hacky sack in the 1980's But that's no reason to be a sandy crotch while I'm kicking your ass in Super Smash Brothers. Even more infurinating than the consumer zombie noobs are the noobs whose job it is to play video games then criticize them for mass public consumption.
The champions of mob mentality shouldn't bother me since i've grown rather accustomed to unqualified nitwits performing undeserved jobs.
Within gaming media circles being a noob seems to have become some sort of fucking prerequisite. I know going through life with a lack of a pinch grip may be frustrating but calling a 3 hour single player experience the hight of game design and comparing the dialoge of GTA4 to that of the godfather is nothing less than absolutely retarded.
Here is the unpleasent truth. Your teachers lied to you when they said any one, even you, could be an astronaut. Some people are just naturally better at doing things. There IS something called talent. No matter how hard i try I'll never paint a Mona Lisa or invent the quantum computer. No matter how hard you try you'll never beat Contra without cheating. Many people have a genuine desire to be better this doesn't make them alien or crude it just makes them a gamer. It's no reason to resent them at least no more than you resent John Holmes for his enormous cock.
So the next time you think "I can beat all the pro gamers if I just played as much as them" -Think again. All the basket ball training in the world won't let your pudgy 5''4' dimpled bottom make the NBA. Just like all the Starcraft training in the world couldn't prevent Park Sung-Joon from sticking his golden mouse up your ass.

Agreed

Welcome to History

Thank you America! FOX news has even called it. Welcome to the future.

Dear Mr. President-Elect:
Thank you, you have made history. Please, please, realize how big a deal this and please don't let us down.

Thank you,

America

Worst.Night.EVER

I have just had the worst.night.ever. The fact that it was a holiday just adds to the character of an otherwise lousy week. It amazes me that a night meant as a fun night to goof off became so sucky.

The night went something like this:

We started the day with Kevin getting the house ready for trick-or-treaters, he loves halloween and was excited that we would finally have some. During his preparations he threw out his back. GREAT! so after a foray downtown to score him some muscle relaxers (from a doc, don't worry) we dosed him up and decided to go out to party anyway. So we get dressed, Kevin as a firefighter (including fake soot around his nose) and me as little red riding hood. After being stood up by our first plans we called and made secondary plans with another set of friends. Okay, cool no big deal. So the plan was to go down to Frenchman street. Which, for those of you out of towners, is near the french quarter but not in the quarter "proper" so the logic was that it would be less crowded (boy did that turn out to false logic). So we pack up and head out to meet our friends. We pick them up from their house, and drive down to frenchman. On the way we encounter ALL the traffic, apparently the cops thought it would be a good idea to close the quarter to vehicles, so after about a half an hour of creative driving on Kevin's part we get to frenchman. Where we find A PARKING SPACE!!! holy cow, ON Frenchman. Only problem is that there are 5 women standing in the parking space. After asking them nicely to move they told us to shove it up our asses that their husbands' are bringing the car around and are in fact 3 cars behind us and that they "aren't going anywhere and are prepared to stand there all night" We proceed to have a 15 minute stand-off (insert Kevin's spanish machismo) at which point the police get involved and make the women move because they are stopping traffic.
So at this point we are where we want to be with these friends. Turns out that they have pre-gamed it pretty hard. So they are pretty drunk already and I'm sure everyone reading this knows what it feels like to be the sober person in a group of drunk people, not too much fun. So after walking around for a while trying to find a bar that wasn't charging a $20 cover to go use their bathroom, we decided that we are going to go to the quarter proper because at least you can walk up to the bars and order from the street.
As we make the 10-15 block trek down to Burbon we get asked at least once a block by the drunks 1. if there is a place to stop and pee (there isn't legally) and 2. Where we were going.
Once we made it to Burbon, Kevin and I decided to peel off of the group and go get handgrenades which were approximately 2 blocks in the opposite direction from the desired destination of the other people in our party. We told them, "we'll meet you back at XYZ bar we're going to go get drinks".
We go and order our drinks and have approximately 5 whole minutes of calm fun. Then the shit really hit the fan.
When we got back to bar XYZ no one is anywhere to be found. Mind you while we were on frenchman i gave one of our friends my phone to hold in his pocket because i had exactly zero pockets in my outfit. So when we get back to the bar and our friend is no where to be found we call him to ask him where everyone is and he says "I'm done I'm going home." well while Kevin is trying to negotiate the release of my phone and the other hostages I spot this friend's girlfriend walking briskly from the bar CRYING. When i stop her to ask what is going on she says that her boyfriend got separated from the group, and as his side of the story goes "well i walked into the bar, looked around and no one was there so i went home." LEAVING HIS GIRLFRIEND ON BURBON STREET WITHOUT A RIDE HOME! After much screaming and nashing of teeth on my part we establish that he got frustrated and caught a ride home with some friendly strangers/ friends that he knew/ something of that nature. So now we are trying to calm his girlfriend down.
After finally chasing down (literally running down burbon in my heels) and convincing her that she needed to come with us, which took alot more time that it would normally have because talking to a drunk distraught woman is difficult. We decided to bring her home.
Another 15 block walk back to the car, and on the way my graceful ass takes a nosedive. I ripped both of the pairs of stockings i was wearing, not to mention the shit out of my knees, on our LOVELY CLEAN french quarter streets.
Once we got to the car another adventure began. We had to extracate our car from what had become a seething mass of people. Frechman street had become more crowded than Burbon, by far. After 20 minutes of inching down the streets with Kevin's fireman lights and airhorn blaring (with drunk idiots literally leaning on our car while it was rolling) we finally were released from the hell hole. But the night wasn't over just yet.
We decided to go to IHOP to have a cup of coffee and try to comfort our friend. So we go and spend probably a good 45 minutes toward the end of which our friend is crying because she is upset about the events of the night. At one point the people at the next table look over and ask to make sure she's okay and even suggest that she shouldn't put so much energy into a boy. We continue to talk and try to comfort her for another 5 minutes or so. At which point another member (a grown ass man, i might add) of the table next to us yells out "SHE DIDN'T GET ANY CANDY, THAT'S WHY SHE'S CRYING" and starts cackiling because he thinks he's clever. At which point i turn around and remark on how grown up and adult that comment was (hey it was 3 am what do you want?) At which point his girlfriend a rather large woman starts to tell me how i should shut my mouth and how she could beat me up etc etc etc. As Kevin begins to get really angry he looks at me and says "Man they are being such..." and I looked at this woman and said "You're right hunnie they are being assholes" and we began to pick up our belongings and walk toward the door. As we are walking past she remarks on how she should kick my ass for calling them assholes and looks at me and says "...and you are pretty big" at which point i looked at her and said "you mean kinda like you?" Which let me tell you went over really well!
Anyway, as much as i wish i could have actually come back with something creative and better than "i know you are but what am i" it was 3:30 in the morning and i'd had a fucked up night.
So it is now 5:45 in the morning and I have to be to work at 9:45am. Man, my life ROCKS. So here's to hoping tomorrow is a better day!

Dear Technical Support

Dear Technical Support Lackey-
When i called you to tell you that I had a virus on my office computer you were perfectly kind and understanding, thank you for that. However, when you told me that i needed to reimage the hard drive and that you were sending me the disks to do so, it was UNFAIR to send me three disks when only 2 of them were going to function. I have now BRICKED my office computer and my boss is SO happy, so thanks.

Kindly,
LongStory

Etyology

I have been thinking recently, about the phrase "bless you." The phrase originates from the idea that when a person sneezes their soul escapes through their nose (some say it is because your heart skips a beat.) So my question is, since we now know that your heart doesn't skip a beat and i believe that most people don't think your soul leaks out of your nose when you sneeze. With that said, why do we all still say "bless you"? Is it just some human compulsion to be 'nice' to other people, even strangers? Or is it just something we have been taught that has developed into a human-kind neurosis?

Wow

So here i go...Today i got my letter accepting me into Tulane University's Medical School for the class of 2013. Here's to the parabolic flight that is med school. Maybe it will make my blogging become more interesting. Maybe it will just make me crazy who knows. While it feels really good to know what's going to happen in the next 5 years or so but, boy, it kinda sucks that i have to wait until June to actually start. Thanks you guys, for believing in me!

Requiem

Ruthie the Duck Girl dies of cancer at 74
by John Pope, The Times-Picayune Friday September 12, 2008, 10:36 PM
Ruthie the Duck Girl, a French Quarter eccentric who zoomed from bar to bar on roller skates, often wearing a ratty fur coat and long skirt and trailed by a duck or two, died Sept. 6 at Our Lady of the Lake Hospital in Baton Rouge. She was 74.

Ruthie, whose real name was Ruth Grace Moulon, had been suffering from cancer of the mouth and lungs when the residents of her Uptown New Orleans nursing home were evacuated to Baton Rouge as Hurricane Gustav approached, said Carol Cunningham, a close friend who watched over her for nearly 40 years.

"I've always looked at Ruthie like a little bird with a broken wing, " Cunningham said. "She was always so dear to me."

Miss Moulon, a lifelong New Orleanian, became a French Quarter fixture, achieving legendary status in a city that treasures people who live outside the mainstream. Along the way, she acquired a coterie of people like Cunningham who found places for her to live, paid her bills and made sure she got home at night.

A tiny woman with a constant grin, she frequently sported a bridal gown and veil on her forays because, people said, she considered herself engaged to Gary Moody, whom she met in New Orleans in 1963 when he was a sailor.

Moody showed up at a 2001 birthday party for Miss Moulon at Mid-City Lanes Rock 'N Bowl, but the two never got to the altar. According to a Times-Picayune interview that year, Miss Moulon had a stock reply whenever anyone asked if there might be a wedding in her future: "I got engaged; that's enough!"

In 1999, Rick Delaup made her the subject of a documentary, "Ruthie the Duck Girl."

Miss Moulon's daily routine consisted of roaming from one watering hole to another, mooching drinks and cigarettes. She could be sweet one minute and unleash a torrent of profanity the next.

Although people deemed Miss Moulon's behavior unconventional even by French Quarter standards, no one ever diagnosed her mental condition because she refused to see a doctor, David Cuthbert wrote in The Times-Picayune in 2001.

"She's not out of touch with reality; she's just not interested, " photographer David Richmond told The Times-Picayune.

Miss Moulon's mother, who put her daughter's hair in sausage curls to make her look like Shirley Temple, came up with the idea that little Ruthie should be a duck girl, Cunningham said.

"She dressed her in evening dresses and bought her skates, and she skated through the Quarter with these little ducks following, " Cunningham said.

Miss Moulon's mother, who grew up in rural Louisiana, initially let the ducks live in the house, although the two women sometimes fought over them, according to eccentricneworleans.com.

On that Web site, Myrl D'Arcy, an artist, described a visit to the house: "The duck's living in the bathtub, and the mother wanted to take a bath. Ruthie didn't want the mother to take the duck out of the bathtub because it would upset the duck."

In the documentary, artist George Dureau recalled a conversation with Miss Moulon after the death of another French Quarter character, Eloise Lopez Arollo Samakintos, who always carried a cross through the Vieux Carre.

"There ain't a whole lot of us left, George, " she said.

A Mass will be said Monday at noon at Jacob Schoen & Son Funeral Home, 3827 Canal St. Visitation will start at 10 a.m.

Burial will be in Greenwood Cemetery.

Sabrage + Boys + Dull Knife - Skills = Mess

You have GOT to be kidding me

Okay, so we have been back to new orleans less than 3 months. Last weekend we had a "tropical storm" hit the city and we got rained on pretty badly. With the anniversary of Katrina on friday, Kevin and i were planning on taking our labor day break and going over to Houston to visit mom. Well thanks to Gustav (what a fuckin' name) it is looking like those plans are definately goin to change. Tonight we are having a pow-wow between all the medical professionals in our family to decide who is taking the dogs and high-tailing it out of town. Which almost always ends up being me. Off to plan for a hurricane, keep your fingers crossed for us.

By way of pictures

I have begun a puppy blog and updated with new pictures http://dogimusprime.blogspot.com/

if you're interested

Welcome

So some of you may not know that Kevin and I are welcoming a new edition to our family. Our new child will be arriving on Wednesday. I figured I would debut him to the world here. Everyone this is "Colorwork's More Than Meets the Eye" or "Prime"

Umm...ouch

Yeah so apparently the kid who had the javaline through his leg took this picture. Pretty impressive i think.

Update

Well as you all know from Dr. Shouldagonetolawschool's blog, it has been pretty busy around here for the last week. Last Saturday was her graduation, when she officially earned her MD MPH & TM...yes she gets that many letters. Much pomp and even some circumstance. Sunday we had a party at Teather's house (thanks you guys!) and it went very well considering all the different personalities we tried shoving into one room together. So that was good. There was this



much crawfish (actually there was twice that much, we made the crawfish man go mid-party and cook some more) and a good time was had by all.

A day later, back in the Thib., we were trying to convince ourselves to be useful and start to pack since we are moving on the 15th of June. That's when the fun started. Apparently, Kevin was walking down the stairs when the kitty decided to chase him. This usually is not a problem, however, on this particular morning the kitty misjudged his trajectory and tripped over kevin's foot. He also disobeyed the famous cats-always-land-on-thier-feet axiom and fell on his side on the corner of the bottom step. Again this wouldn't have been a big deal except the cat started to favor that leg and when kevin picked him up to check on him and touched his leg it went CRUNCH. "Shit..." so we call around to all of the vets in the area and finally get an appointment with our normal vet for a few hours later. He takes an xray and it turns out it is a spiral tib-fib fracture. In other words, the cat has managed to break both of the bones in his bottom leg and because of the nature of the fracture will need surgery to insert a pin. So now, we have a kitty who is 1/4 shorn and not to happy with a wicked set of stitches.





And I still have to find a job and pack the house so we can move!!!

Congrats

I felt the need to say congrats Dr. Shouldagonetolawschool. Heather has officially finished medical school!!! Nice job, it sucked but it's over now.

even better

For ted...

Does anyone else see the problem with this?

Caption Contest?

Peep Show...hehe

I take it back

This is a hound dog...


see more loldogs are funny dog pictures!

Discussion Question

While listening to the radio the other day a song by TLC came on. Before i could quickly change the channel i caught a line that i remember singing along to when i was younger but actually listening to it - and thinking about it - i realized exactly how fucked up the line was.


"What ashame your shootin' aint for someone else's brain"

I appreciate and respect that they were trying to discourage suicide but once you think about it, they are endorcing homicide as a replacement for suicide. Which i can't say i approve.

So the question on the table.

What is the most fucked up lyric/movie line can you think of?
Bonus points if it's only fucked up once you think about it

What The FUCK!?!

For those of you who (luckily) aren't infiltrated by the media. Today a video showed up on the interweb of a US soldier throwing a puppy off of a cliff. If you feel like you can stomach it you can find it here http://my.break.com/content/view.aspx?ContentID=463231. If this is not the most blatent suggestion for the arguement that our soldiers have PTSD and that stop-lossing them is a bad idea then i don't know what could be. What the hell kind of world do we live in?

Nutin' but a Hound Dog

Happy V-day my Lovelies

My favorite Super Bowl Ad

The Cowboy Monkey, Seriously

Hamsters

Total waste of time...but fun.

http://www.digyourowngrave.com/flight-of-the-hamsters/

For Ted...

moar cute puppy pictures

Another Sighting

There has been a new sighting of El Oso.

Artsy Pic of the Week