Is that a .... neck?

At this point I would like to apologise for the brevity of this week's posts. I will extend this apology to include today.

Have you ever been sitting on a chair, enjoying a cool breeze and a cool glass of lemonade, when suddenly a golid gold giraffe falls out the sky and pins you to the damp grass? Such a development causes stress, pain and a general feeling of confusion.

This is what this week has been like for me.

In more exciting developments [for me] it is my birthday tomorrow. It is something to look forward to [for me].

I have just enjoyed a small sliver of cake. Life is looking up.

Cartoon.

When you woke up this morning, I bet you were thinking "gee, what would my favourite blogger's head look like if it were animated in a style reminiscent of this manga thing the kids are all talking about these days?"

And so, after visiting 15 other blogs, you found yourself here.

BAM

Further proof that I cut my hair

DSCF1390.JPG, originally uploaded by obscene_pickle.

As this picture proves, my hair is short.

Facinating, yes?

It also proves that Leen's sock puppet had no eyes, and that she is gorgeous, but that is a sidebar to my navel gazing.

I've decided I will always let my hair get completely out of control by leaving it unstyled and unattended for 18+ months before getting a haircut.

When people believe you have lost pride in yourself and you prove otherwise is when the real compliments start flowing in.

Stefan Delatovic's Blog: The eXXXciting return!

As mentioned in my last post, my digital life took a rare backseat to my physical life over the weekend.

Because .... of visitiors from beyond! Well, beyond the city limits that is. But when you live in the middle of the desert, that's damn exciting.

I have had many conversations that go like this:

"Hey Stefan, I've had an awesome time here in Broken Hill, even though I never ever would've come here if not for [inciting event]"

"That's awesome! We've had a blast!"

"I can't wait to come back and visit you guys."

"Oh man, that'd be awesome! I would love that!"

"Yeah. So I'll always consider you a friend."

"Why would you say that?"

"We will never meet again."

But not this time! This weekend we rocked it hardcore with Luke and Lou, our bodacious Canberran buds.

That's them over there. Isn't Luke just a peach?

This is a return visit from out dynamic duo. 

They are the easiest-going houseguests on the face of the planet.  This is because they are basically us.

Any pastime we envision, any media we care to digest, they're right there with us. Really, having them over is like just living your life as as normal but in a house with walls made out of mirrors that make you look like you're awesome and can play the guitar.

In addition to the above facts [awesome time was had], here's some other stuff that happened over the weekend:

I realised that I am now very bad at Wii Tennis, and that introducing Luke to it years ago was a mistake.

An impromptu kitchen dance party - inspired by Madonna's Like A Prayer - was a blast, but as it occurred at 3.30am, it sapped the last of my energy.

After being given a set of salt and pepper shakers to use as maracas, Luke used them all night long, even after they were removed form his person.

We watched all the video of Sarah Silverman we could find. Belly laughs echoed through our home.

We ate everything we could find. One afternoon was spent bemoaning the amount of milkshake within.

Wii Games played: Wii Sports, Mario Kart, House of the Dead, Hottest Dance Party, Golden Axe.

Comic books read by various parties: League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Volumes I & II, All Star Batman and Robin the Boy Wonder, Batman Hush, Casanova, Buffy Season 8 Volume I, Fray, Tales of the Slayers.

We strolled the Mundi Mundi Plains. It was great. I am unfit.

Silverton was fun. The cafe serves gigantic meals and the surroundings are breathtaking. On Sunday it is busier that Broken Hill.

Note: Never leave eating a fried Mars Bar until the last day of a trip.

Additional Note: Four-player Mario Kart is possibly the funnest thing ever, even if the digital representation of yourself is a fatty.

Taboo is a great boardgame.

Life ... don't talk to me about life.

The blog may take a hit until Tuesday, as our good Canberrean friends Luke and Lou are visiting us. This is awesome.

Of course, we could run out of things to say to each other by Saturday, so who knows? Content may flow like wine.

We'll probably get by alright though. They brought a Wiimote with them so their Miis could come and live on our console. They are our kind of people.

And, you know, Luke is the main culprit when it come to "where's my daily update" blog comments, so the pressure's really off until he's back in front of his computer.

Society, on the whole, is doomed.

The following video demands commentary.



Sadly, my ability to critique has been crushed under the gigantic cultural touchstone rendered above.

Random thoughts on the Olympics

Sport and I are like chalk and one of those sidewalk artists that used to draw in chalk but paints now because chalk kept snapping and one time a piece of chalk killed his puppy.

So it is with great surprise that I find myself actually interested in the Olympics. I mean, I've been abstractly interested for months, but in a 'spotlight on China' kind of way. I never thought I'd watch any events, but I am.
I think the Opening Ceremony blew my mind open enough that lingering excitement seeped in like clingy bacteria.

I've had the Olympics playing in the background of my life since it began and while I'm already facing the edge of interest, it's been entertaining. I'm particularly drawn to the crazier sports and those I have never seen before.

And so, for lack of a better structure, here are some random thoughts on the Olympics.

Man, I would totally die. I love watching men's gymnastics, partly because of the wow factor, but mainly so I can catalogue all the ways I would totally die. In the average floor routine I can point to five moments in time where I would definitely perish. "I could have pulled that off ... I would sustain many injuries."

Leave him alone! Given their death-defying ability, I can't help but back the gymnasts. When a dude is swinging like a maniac and loses his grip, and a commentator remarks "that was not good" or "that's an error that will cost him", I involuntarily shout at the television "shut the hell up he tried his best didn't you just see him flip three times shoom shooom shooooom." I get invested.

Hubuwha? I enjoy Judo. It washes over me like a warm breeze in a sun-dappled field. I have absolutely no concept of the rules. It makes so sense, and they all look so angry.

Meep meep. Watching the American Dream Team play basketball is like watching Warner Brothers cartoons. People do not work that way. They're like if The Flash and Stilt-Man had a baby. They also wear cartoonishly - although rightfully - smug expressions as they dangle from a rim specifically designed to be out of reach.

The Invention of Badminton.
"Wanna play tennis?"
"Pfffsh. That game is as easy as pushing your grandmother down stairs."
"Hm. Well let's spice it up then. Could we add hobos?"
"Naw, I'm wearing white. Let's just make the court smaller, the racket smaller, replace the ball with an object as aerodynamic as it is attractive, and make sure you have to swing really, really hard to move it three feet."
"Awesome. But dude?"
"Yeah?"
"Please leave my grandmother in peace."
"No problems shuttlecock."

Unsurprisingly, China's regime is brutally efficient. Say what you will, but anyone who can start arresting protesters before half of them have freed their home-made signs from their hemp satchels could probably keep the trains running on time. They wouldn't tell anyone of course, but they would.

Channel Seven's coverage has been really bad. Borderline racism and trivialisation towards Chinese culture on the "Yum Cha" space-filler morning show. The bigger crime? It is boring and lame. Also, cutting away from the Olympics to showthe AFL? Perspective is a wonderful thing, but is not present in this instance.

Comic Geeks Speak as I Ramble.

Have you ever cooked something really delicious, and then eaten it alone at a small table? No matter what your mouth tells you, such an experience pales in comparison to a dinner party with your nearest and dearest. Food is to be shared and enjoyed. A blissful scoop of icecream tastes better when you can look into the eyes of a friend and see your happiness reflected back.

Digesting art and entertainment is the same. One of my favourite parts of the cinema experience is the boistorous, rushed conversation to be had in those ten minutes between leaving the theatre and everyone heading off to their respective homes. Loving something is rewarding, but sharing that love magnifies that reward. I don't know why, but simply saying "it was awesome when that thing happened" fills me with happy.

Why do I labour under the above to paragraphs as they threaten to topple under the weight of their own melodrama?

It's about comics.

Anticlimactic? Maybe. Personally important? Indeed.

I've loved comics as long as I can remember. I have scattered memories of my older brother giving us a stack of old Wolverine titles. I know my twin brother and I wrangled new books from my dad each and every week. I don't recall exactly how I started reading them, but I think it had something to do with some scallywags in Riverdale.

Geek tangent: My older brother would grow to regret giving over his old Wolverine titles to us. To him they were rare acquisitions and early black-and-white printings. To our young minds? Not so much. I remember the sound he made when he visited us soon after and found the covers ripped apart and turned into posters. Like a wet branch cracking under the weight of a heart full of snow.

I voraciously read Spiderman and X-Men, 2099 and What-If. My friends did too. My brother cared for and retained his books. I ripped mine to shreds in a re-reading frenzy. A small group of us would talk about all the things we were reading about. More often, we would dream up our own scenarios with the building blocks provided, like all the ways Wolverine could be killed.

Geek Tangent: We decided there was exactly one way to kill Wolverine - exploding bullet to the eye.

Like all the best bits of being a kid, comics were a shared experience. I was too young to notice anything happening below the surface, and growing up in the 90s there wasn't a lot to be had anyway. Maximum Carnage was easily the coolest thing I had ever read at the time, but alas, it did not withstand the test of time.

As I grew up I drifted from comics for a number of reasons. A main one was living in a desert and realising that it was impossible to reliably collect any one title. A few years ago it hadn't mattered, but now I couldn't read a cohesive story and that hurt. My friends and I grew away from comics and things like music and movies took their place at the watercooler.

Years later, when I found a way to get comics again, I did, and set about reading everything that had ever been written by anyone even if it was with their fingernail in a cave one time. I was swimming through amazing stuff. I revisited old friends and met new ones. Much like I re-watched The Golden Girls as a teenager and was struck by the thought: "Gee, this is filthy", I was now able to see themes, recognise artists and identify with writers.

But it was a hollow pursuit. I knew no-one who shared my passion. Walk into a house party and say "Watchmen changed my life" and only the crickets will respond.

Geek Tangent: there is a gigantic exception here. Leen and my shared love of Sandman. Long nights with new trades, rapid-fire discussion and cigarette smoke. She also has the uncanny knack to pick up seemingly random books and deliver brilliance upon our household. She rules.

But as the internet continued to open like a flower seen through David Attenborough;s favourite camera, I discovered podcasts. The idea was immediately appealing. Radio anywhere! Any time! Glorious sound! Power to people!

And I found Comic Geek Speak. Again, I can't remember the circumstances but I stumbled across a few shows and downloaded a few episodes. I played them in the background of my life.
For some reason CGS took up residence in my brain and would not leave. In essence the show is a group of comic fans sitting in a room and talking about comics. I didn't know why but I kept listening.

After a while I figured out that this was what I was missing. It sounds faintly depressing but, despite the obvious listener/broadcaster divide, this was a way for me to talk comics with my friends again. In a place with no comic shops and no fellow readers, that was important.
The reason the show works so well is that, while there's a microphone in the room, it doesn't feel like an integral part of the process. You feel like these guys would be having a discussion about their top ten trades anyway. There's also the natural dynamic that only arises on its own. There's the guy I always agree with. The guy I never agree with and want to shout at. there's the guy who takes all the put-downs. It's real.

I'm thankful for it, and it's a real symbol of the power of the internet. My desire - for a means to discuss comics with a group of like-minded fans, or simulate such a thing - is obscure. But it is possible through podcasting. Through these podcasters.

It's also done wonders for my reading. Some of the more verbose members of the group are DC fans. As a Marvel child, I had long been indoctrinated against DC, but now I realise the truth - the divide is between good comics and bad comics, not publishers. Through recommendations and general discussion I found and read Blankets (which made me cry), Crisis on Infinite Earths (which made me confused) and Crying Freeman (which made me back slowly out of the room before whispering "awesome").





This ... did not begin as the longest essay ever.

Change. It's good for you, but it is terrifying.

My ongoing monkeying around the edges of this blog continues.

I've updated the "Places I Visit Each Day" section on the bottom right using one of Google's new digito-wingwangs. 

Now the sites that support it will show when they were last updated and with what. It looks a little messier, but it furthers my selfish agenda to pump all the information I personally require into one place.

I shall continue the manufacture of blog content - a byproduct of the above motive - tomorrow.

Today I made the mistake of typing Elseworlds into Wikipedia and throwing my day down a deep, inescapable hole of endless browser windows. Somewhere in the multiverse Superman, who is also Batman and Lex Luthor's russian son from the future, is laughing at my predicament.

Dreamtime

I just woke up from a dream where I was a stand-up comedian. I only told one joke:

"What did the barber say to the skinhead?"

"Get the hell out of my barber shop!"

Everybody booed, and I was dragged from the stage as I yelled that barbers could hate hairless racists for any number of reasons, and thus the funny.

Huh. Trying to explain a failed joke never works.

Easy TV

I have been convalescing in bed over the last few days, with my body producing fluids quicker than I can expel them. As such, I have been watching a lot of television.

As previously discussed, I love TV. While I tend to fall head-over-heels for shows that are difficult, demand attention and reward a lot of brain power, I also like to maintain a reserve of Easy TV.

Easy TV shows are those I have on DVD that I can watch over and over again. Whether I'm hung over, sick, or simply moving through a lazy Sunday, these shows are the comfort food my eyes demand. I'm sure everyone has their own particular Easy TV, as mine are a combination of shows that are easy to digest, and those that I love so much that I know them by rote. Here they are:

Futurama: This meets every item on the Easy TV checklist. Cartoon? Check. Comedy? Check. Endlessly watchable? Check. I watch all four seasons of Futurama about once a month. This can play endlessly in the background, allowing me to tune in for the odd gag. For some reason I'm burned out on the Simpsons, despite a vaster field of episodes to choose from.
"You watched it, you can't unwatch it!"

Arrested Development: The funniest show I have ever seen. Like Futurama it was cut down too soon. I can watch this over and over and it's always hilarious. It's densely written, so repeat viewings never fail to reveal new running gags, allusions, and sight gags. Brilliant.
"Illusions! Tricks are something a whore does for money ... Or cocaine!"

Law and Order SVU: The reason I gravitate towards the most messed up of the L+E franchises escapes me, but I do. The 'done in one' nature of this aids ease of viewing.
"Sexually based offences are considered especially heinous."

Twin Peaks: Brilliant craziness. Hardly an 'ease of viewing' show, but the unrelenting wave of strangeness never fails to entertain. So damn fun.
"That's some damn good coffee, and some damn good cherry pie."

Buffy: If my love for a show was measured in terms of how many hours of enjoyment they had given me, Buffy would have to be the winner. I have watched this thing to death. Love it. I have watched the musical episode countless times, and generally go on to watch all episodes after it, and then wrap around and watch those before it, and then continue on a few more times. One of my all time favourite shows. Don't watch it so much any more, but absence makes the heart grow fonder.
"Anya! Anya?"

What are the shows you could watch forever?

Summary

Yesterday I took the day off from the internetz to spend time with my dad. It was a good time.

As always, we managed to dodge topics of all importance and instead took in various eating establishments and the cinema. It was a fun, all-to-rare occurance.

Today I am full of sickness. While I am not approaching a Leen level of incapacitation [get well soon!] I'm felling pretty damn ordinary.

For some reason, this blog tends to revolve around the thoughts that spring out of my brain rather than the significant events that orbit around it, leading me to review shite movies like Hancock and omit all references to important events in the life of me. I'm entirely cool with that, as I'd hate for this to fall out of the realm of entertainment [which I strive for, even if I do not succeed] and become a glorified family newsletter.

Having said that, some marginally intresting stuff has occurred. I've been wanting to write about it for ages and just never did. As way of excusing myself from writing at length so I can instead smoke my way through a head cold and then maybe win a Brain Award for Immense Smartness, here's some stuff that's happened.

We bought a car. Leen and I bought a shiny Hyundai i30. After a lifetime of barely-operable vehicles and emitted strange noises and periodically decided 'nope, no driving today', the lack of driving-related stress is indescribable.

I got a tattoo. Leen and I both got a tattoo on our left wrist. I love it. There's a story there and I'll get to it sometime.

I got an XBox 360. Through a somewhat strange turn of events our Wii-loving household ended up with the console, and I have been working my way through the catalogue of games I'd missed since launch. I want to give my impressions of the console at length. In short? Biggest lesson so far is Halo still Halo, XBox is louder than an airplane.

I've written some great stuff. I don't talk about work here, but recently I've written some articles I'm really happy with and proud of. They will passed unnoticed by everyone.

I still don't like racism. It is everywhere this week. Lame.

I fell in love with the ABC. Again. The iView service is exquisite. It allows me to look with fondness at a media outlet in Australia, which is something that never happens. I thank them.

I am digging the Olympics. The Opening Ceremony was amazing, and the enthusiasm vested within me has transferred into the actual watching of sports, which is unheard of. I'm digging all the sports I've never seen, but still lose interest immediately when a sport I've seen before appears.

Hancock: A Review

Hancock: Short Review

No good!

Hancock: Longer, non-spoiler review

I saw this film under what are generally ideal filmgoing circumstances: uninformed save for having seen a teaser trailer 12 months previous. No outlandish expectations. Open mind.
The premise was of Will Smith, the titular Hancock, as 'Superman who doesn't care' is intriguing.
A man with Superman's abilities but with his morals and resonsibilities replaced by alcoholism and indifference promises much. It is fresh.

The first act follows this thread and is entertaining but slight. Hancock saves people but destroys much in the process. He saves a PR Executive (Jason Bateman) who seeks to brighten Hancock's image.

From there the film takes off in a different direction - explaining the amnesiac Hancock's origins and his road to redemption. The ideas are energetic and exciting but there are too many and they have no space to breathe. All told, the film plays like the Wikipedia entry of a fantastic film trilogy. Afterwards I considered the events depicted and thought "that's an awesome idea, I wish I'd seen that". the movie is all the more disappointing for what it could have been. There's real brilliance here, but it's smothered by sloppy, truncated writing.

Bateman is great as the put-upon, well-meaning schlub - he always is. Charlize Theron handles the role of wife and a later shift well. Will Smith is entertaining, and there are some great depicitons of his superpowers at work. The overarching mythology of what Hancock is is intriguing, and I would have liked to see more. I applaud it for its risks.

On reflection much of the plot makes little sense. The villian is shoe-horned in and unneccessary, and the film thinks we fear and awe him when he arrives. We don't.

Hancock: Final, Spoilery thoughts

When Charlize Theron arrives, after the revelation that she has superpowers, she is suddenly a leather-clad vamp. Why? Her outfit matches Hancock's but we saw Hancock receive the sut with no input. Lame.

The villain is stopped from robbing a bank by Hancock. He arrives late in the game like Hancock's nemesis and we do not care. He shoots Hancock while Hancock is depowered. How did this man know he would arrive at the hospital at the exact moment Hancock was without powers, when Hancock himself did not know it would happen? He didn't. He couldn't.

"Don't call me a [blank]" is repeated seventy bazillion times, by a number of characters. It grates.

Hancock literally shoves a man's head up another man's ass. It is shown. Shown for laughs. It pulls the film out of the reality is is striving for and robs it of tension. "Oh, it's a cartoon now. I don't care."

Hancock and Theron apparently lose their powers when they are close to each other. This only happens after effects-heavy super fights though.

Hancock saves the day by running away. Well ... he leaps away, with the powers he does not have.

Shameless

Today I made my Amazon Wish List. It was surprisingly fun. Have a look if you wish to capture a snapshot of my subconscious mind through the smudgy lens of consumerism.

On an unrelated note, it's totally my birthday this month.



Just sayin'.

Top Five

The saturation of society by the Olympics is upon us again.

The whole shebang kicks off in a couple of days, and all thought of oppressive communism and human right violation is being swept away on the tide of sporting pride.

And why the hell not? As Australia's favourite sons and daughters race to secure Olympic gold, any censoring of the media will be obscured by heavy fog, and all in the vicinity will be too weighed down by humidity to care.

So I thought, why shouldn't I get into the spirit as well? Even I, sport-despising devil, fondly recall* the lighting of the Olympic Torch when our proud, wide land hosted the olympics. Much of the Aboriginal people don't, as they were shipped out, but I do!

I wonder how the torch - the mighty, burning symbol of human excellence - may end its round-the-world relay and be delivered in Beijing. That's what we're waiting to see right?

1. It will be swept into the stadium atop of a wave of blood, spilled by the violent regime of the Dalai Lama.

2. It will fail to arrive, as it was been detained in a small, windowless hotel and beaten after wandering too close to something conceivably newsworthy.

3. It will be carried in by a robot made of solid gold, which will have been paid for my resources mined out of the Australian outback. Australia will gain custody of the robot in 2010 through a free trade agreement that sees the continent given over entirely to rice and cotton production to make ends meet. It will soon be the only resident, as it does not require water.

4. It will simply be there. No-one will witness the arrival, but it will be reported as "extremely successful", as the Government will report it as such, and no-one will have any other evidence to go on.

5. Terrorists will steal the flame and it will never be seen physically again. It will be remembered always however, as banners displaying it's grand image will adorn buildings that spring up around the world. These buildings will be called "looking at everything you do all the time and making you stop in the name of Freedom Centres". 

* this is a lie.

Superman

Superman is a dick. Don't know if I've mentioned that before, but go there.

I have been reading through the Graphic Content blog's dissection of the Superman 2000 pitch, in which writers Mark Waid and Grant Morrison sought to take over DC's Superman comics. It sounds awesome.

As a Marvel kid through and through, I always found Superman to be pretty bland. This was, of course, at the young age where I felt comfortable labelling something as crap without ever having laid eyes on it. Superman seemed vanilla and dull, so he was, even though I'd never read a Superman comic.

In more recent times I've read some Superman stories that are great. All-Star Superman in particular. But any run-of-the-mill issues I've read seem to reinforce my misgivings.

Superman is somewhat of a dull canvas. Some writers have painted amazing pictures on it, but just as often you end up with a Year 8 student* drawing a 2D satan and saying "it's about how hard it is to grow up" to cover up their lack of talent.

Anyway, if you're interested, read through the Superman 2000 analysis and join me in thinking of what could have been.



*totally me.

I can see my house from here

Street view pictures of Broken Hill went live on Google Maps today.

I'm sure there'll be some use for this coming down the line. At the moment, it allows solely for people like me to go "Gee! That's totally my house! Open ups to the interwebz!"

Reason for post brevity follows:
I spent the morning splurting 1000+ words all over Hordelings, flinging a harsh spotlight onto the lack of support Wizards of the Coast provided to GenconOz.

While this is an issue of burning importance to myself, one suspects the general population will be capable of going on with their lives unhindered.

Grand Theft Auto IV: Togetherness.

After I spent my first hour with GTA IV I decided I was done. Despite the amazing effort that had been put into world-building - and the pay-off that oozes from the screen - I just wasn't having any fun.

Sure, the city around you seems to live and breathe, and that's spectacular, but all I had managed to do was take a woman bowling and drive my cousin around, all while dealing with some D-grade titty jokes and wishing I could throw my in-game mobile phone in a dam to shut it up.
But some time later Leen and I restarted the game and things started to sing.
It's a unique situation: I don't think either of us would play this game ourselves, but together we're having a blast. My poor, strained eyes are the proof.
See, as a duo this game is perfect. Leen loves maintaining our friendships, buying awesome clothes and performing the more cerebral missions, whereas I love careening around trying to escape cops and performing tasks that require explosions and shooting hundreds of people.

Between the two of us, we wipe the platter clean.

And in giving the game a shot I've grown to enjoy the hell out of it. There's a few missteps in the writing early on that makes it feel heavy on the exploitative, 'offensive for offensive's sake' style of humour. But once they set the tone they're probably locked into by now, the writing is actually really good. It's adult, but the characters are well-drawn, likeable, memorable and distinct.
The writing's a lot more important here than in many games, as Rockstar Games sets this thing up as a playable movie right from the introduction.
The missions are the same old story, but enough is new to freshen up a very good formula.
The use of a mobile phone as the central mechanism for controlling the game is a masterstroke. Really, compiling most menu options into a mobile phone is how we're living our lives anyway.

As with every game though, it all boils down to one question: Am I having fun? The true innovation of this game is in the city around it. People live their lives independently of your actions, and react realistically to the unexpected. At first this felt like empty window-dressing, but when carnage unfolds, it adds to it in unexpected and exciting ways. It provides you with those "Holy shit did you just see that?" moments that give these games reasons to live.

Here's my most memorable example, the moment I decided that yes, I was going to forgo lunch to keep playing [one of the highest honours I bestow upon anything]:

I was on my way to a train station, where a man was waiting on the platform. My mission was to kill him.
On the way there I drove through a toll booth without paying - to my mind a minor infraction - but nonetheless I soon had a police car tailing me, asking me to pull over from a sedate distance.
When I reached the station I called my boss on my mobile, who told me to go ahead despite the police presence. I ditched the car and ran up to the platform.
I spotted the man and opened fire, felling his associates as passengers all around scattered and ran for cover. The target jumped the tracks and sprinted away. I gave chase and sprinted into the street. I placed a bullet in the man's brain as cars sped away and pedestrians screamed. Suddenly there were police everywhere. As a squad car pulled up I shot the driver and jumped behind the wheel. Suddenly I'm screaming through the streets in a stolen police car as six squad cars try to ram me off the road.
Taking a corner at speed I turn onto a highway but oh noes! It's under construction and before I can react I've reached a large gap in the road and I'm flying through space. The car falls and smashes heavily into the opposite edge of the unfinished road - I fly out through the windscreen and land heavily, rolling into a pile of bricks on the otherside of the gap.
As I get unsteadily to my feet I see my car followed into the watery abyss by three of my pursuers. I sprint in the opposite direction as fast and as far as I can. Unable to follow the remaining units give up and leave. I manage to sneak my way back into the general population and escape.

To summarise: I shot a guy, escaped in a police car and escaped only by launching through my windshield during a fatal crash.

Awesome.

Locked up with all of my people

There's been some cool commentary crawling out from underneath the posts that I've scattered around this mossy blog garden.

Honestly, I have no idea how many people read this thing or if they are reading the comments, but I'm a big fan.

I thought I'd put these ones up here because, well, it's my blog!

Tmofee weighed in on my last post, about Nintendo being a money making machine, with his own view of this console war malarkey:

"A lot of sony and ms issues are the cost of the tech. the system and games probably cost a lot more than what they're selling them for. luckily these a big companies who can afford the losses.

I think The Bluray will help sony, and if this i-tv thing comes out in Australia as well, recording free to air tv? i think it will be for a lot of people more of an all in one entertainment system as well as just a gaming system.

I just hope nintendo survive gen 7. there's only so much you can do with the wii. yeah its fun but all these big games are being left out for them. I don't own a wii, but I have a lot of fond memories with the snes and 64 systems."

After I exposed the world to some of my crazier childhood moments, Luke shared this gem:

"Happily, Lou and I still play similar games. Both our cats have jobs - and we invent reasons why whenever we see them, they are not actually at work. "Frenchie's doing nightshift". "Pete's on a break" "The union doesn't let cats work the same amount of hours as humans", etc."

I think we can all agree that that's one of the funnest thing ever.

Jay did not explicitly share my love of the Pussycat Dolls' new single, but he did share belief that they were singing about their wide-eyed hopes for boobies.
I stick by my comments that "I wanna have boobies", in the context of the group's "grrl power" aesthetic and "exxxtreme" attitude, would've made a superior lyric.

And poor B chimed in to call me a boob over my recent bank mishap, but was felled by a misplaced e. His Class A burn was thus consumed by a debate over the difference between a typo and a spelling error.

FYI:

Spelling error = stupid brain.

Typo = stupid fingers.

I myself am guilty of both, with regularity and with gusto.