Recently, maybe about the beginning of the summer (of 2015, for you future readers. Get off your damn hoverboards and get back to work.) Charlotte started showing an interest in reading some of the untouched books in her collections. Hand-me-downs from me or my brother, or other books from that era I picked up years ago, before she could read. One of these books was “Mickey’s Christmas Carol”. She loved it.
Yesterday may have been Video Game Day–as confirmed by nothing less of a source than daysoftheyear.com--but today… today is the 30th Anniversary of one of the industry’s most ground breaking accomplishments. Super Mario Bros. turns 30 goddamn years old today.
There is seriously nothing that I can add to the conversation about this game.
I could marvel at its design–so innovative that its high water mark has only ever really been topped by other games in the same franchise. I could talk about it cementing Mario as a pop culture icon. I could share personal anecdotes about trying to reach The Negative World, or playing the game while looking at the TV in a mirror, or wrestling the controller away from a superior Player 1 shouting “Hurry up and die, so I can play!”. Something Something Iconic Soundtrack, etc., etc.
But everything… everything–good and bad–has been said better by someone else. Go read and/or watch their stuff. It’s good, really.
Instead, I’m going to be a lame dad, and share the names my daughter, Charlotte, gave the Goombas (and Koopa Troopa) found on World 1-1. That’s right, I’m turning a review of an unparalleled gaming classic into a shitty Facebook post.
I’ve often wondered how I should handle the “bathroom stuff” when I’m flying solo with Charlotte out in the real world. When she needs to go, obviously I need to drag her into the men’s room with me. Do I let her solo the stall right out of the gate? Obviously I should close the door, right? Could she fall in? When do I let her handle the ladies’ room on her own? What if she wants me to go in with her, but insists on using the ladies’ room? All of these questions have been floating around in my head from the moment I realized that there was at least a 50% chance that I could be fathering a girl. They popped up more and more in recent months, as potty training became more and more of a focus.
One question I hadn’t ever considered, though, was what I should do if I needed to go. That’s what happened about 5 minutes into our retail excursions one evening a few months ago.
…and the award for Least Thought Out Licensed Product goes to…
For me, it’s the cup-holder clenched fists that turn this from innocent to kinda creepy. Maybe… maybe… if they hadn’t chosen a character that has faced horrible, creepy allegations for almost 60 years–Nope, it’d still be a kid sitting on the likeness of a super-dude’s crotch.
I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with the product itself. If you want–or already have–one, I’m not making any judgements at all. It’s probably more of a comment on me that the first place my mind went when I saw this was straight in the gutter.
I had to debate whether this was Found On the Internet or Fat Dad With Glasses material. What am I supposed to do with all these emotions? I haven’t felt like this since that goddamn trailer for Dead Island came out a couple years ago.
Pulp Fiction’s Facebook page shared this today. I enjoyed it.
Not surprisingly, the 265 comments or so were largely full of people pissing, moaning and crying. Wah wah… the kids aren’t swearing. Wah This is inappropriate! Wah wah John Travolta is white! wah! Shoulda done DNS scene! Wah. Won’t someone think of the children!?! Wah wah wah One of my favourite movies ruined! Fucking wah.
The best three that I saw in my quick glance:
I was hoping they’d shoot Marvin in the face.” – James Partington
Wrong scene, asshat.
“this is terrible and a disgrace to pulp fiction. vincent vega isnt not a little mexican. get the races right before you make a li’l anything” – Scott Schober
That’s some really choice racism, sir.
“I don’t think Jules was mexican but ok.” – Morgan Shaffer
Also choice racism. Even funnier to me is that you’re so upset about this detail change you felt the need to comment on it… without realizing that the character Jules was indeed played by a young man of African decent. How do you get so worked up about one detail, when you don’t even know the character’s fucking name?
Bike lanes anger me. I know, it’s hard to imagine me being angry about anything… but bike lanes definitely do it for me. Especially now that the world is in an energy crisis of catastrophic proportions, and my municipal government seems to think bike lanes will answer all the world’s fucking problems. But, of course, I can understand their logic. Suddenly, somehow, altering the flow of traffic in already heavily travelled areas will clearly turn oil into a clean burning renewable resource.
Pictured: All Your Problems Fucking Solved.
No. No way in hell.
Before you start crying to me about how cars are ruining the Earth, and we all need to recycle everything before we start living in the world of Soylent Green, I need you to understand something: I get that the theory is that with more bike lanes more people will use bikes, and that would mean less people would use cars. I get that the future is now. I get that we need to seize the day. I get that every little bit helps. I also get something that, in my opinion, is much more important to realize… at least when it comes to fucking with heavy traffic areas–and slowing down traffic flow–just to put in bike lanes. And what I get is this: Everyone who is going to ride a bike anywhere is already fucking doing it.
At this moment, there are now enough bike lanes in place on my trip to work that I could use them for all but one short block of travelling. I’m not going to. My wife’s not going to. Trying to rationalize paying road crews to paint new lanes and/or widen existing streets by saying more people will leave their cars at home is a flying crock of monkey shit.
But what about safety, you ask? How can you put a price on that? I’ll tell you how. It’s easy. Actual bike lanes are no fucking safer than unmarked ones, non-existent ones, or the fucking sidewalk. I say this because ever since I saw the first goddamn bike lane pop up in this shit town of mine, I’ve been watching. Every day… every single fucking day this summer… I’ve seen one or more of the following:
Assholes riding on the wrong side of the road.
Assholes riding without a helmet.
Assholes riding on the white fucking line that makes up the bike lane.
Assholes riding just outside the fucking bike lane.
Assholes completely ignoring traffic lights.
And one glorious asshole who was riding outside the bike lane, on the wrong side of the road, in the middle of traffic, into an oncoming traffic lane that had a green light.
Even the most safety conscious looking people, wearing helmets, pads, vests, and all sorts of shiny flashy shit, have been driving on the wrong side of the road, and/or ignoring general rules of traffic. You know, those tough calls that none of us know, like “What do you do at a red light?” and “Can I cross this intersection diagonally, because suddenly I think I’m a pedestrian now? I know the intersection isn’t even marked as a diagonal crosswalk, but it’s still cool, right?”
Safety is Job #1.Unless the light is red.
I’m mostly pissed about the whole thing because a road I frequent was formerly 4 lanes, 2 each way, until recently. You were able to pass any slow idiot, school bus, or car turning left with the greatest of ease. There was more than enough room in these wide lanes to have accommodated bikes.
Obviously, for the 30 or so years the road had been this way, it must have worked too well. This summer they decided to add bike lanes, one on each side. Now instead of 4 lanes, there’s 2 and a half. One in each direction, and one of those genius dual left turn lanes. Let me tell you… the people in this area are just not smart enough drivers to figure out a dual left turn lane. There’s been some form of accident every week since they changed the lanes.
Also, now that school’s back in, you can get stuck behind a school bus stopping every quarter mile, and have absolutely no course to legally pass them. Most people travelling this road travel it for 15 to 30 minutes with no traffic… If they were to get stuck behind a school bus, and are headed out to the end of the road, their commute will double. If the dumbasses I share this road with get frustrated at that traffic, something terrible is going to happen, I’m sure.
I’m not normally one to advocate stupid government red tape (except in the case of Machete Licenses), but I do think that the g-men should step in here. I need to write a test to get a shiny piece of plastic so that I can drive my vehicle that could get someone killed in between the pretty painted lines they made for me… Why the fuck is it okay for some kid, or dumbfuck adult for that matter, to drive down their pretty painted lines on a vehicle that could get them killed without a shiny piece of plastic test of their own? And it should cost an arm an a leg to get, too. All the fees could go to the roadwork, and maybe the police force, so that they could afford to police the (as far as I’ve observed) near 100% rate of infractions per bicyclist in this fucking shitburg.
I’m sure all of you out there living in areas with millions of people, who deal regularly with the idea of taking 2 hours to drive a quarter mile, are laughing at me. Well… you probably need to push bike lanes. There’s, like, 6 million of you fucking idiots in a close area and you’re each driving a car. If you throw together this “city” the 2 towns and 2 villages that make up my “Greater Metropolitan Area”… we might break 200k people. We don’t need your fancy environmental solutions. We still have fucking trees. Although we do have a bunch of people bawling their fucking eyes out because we have one less tree now. But that’s a different story…
So now that my darling little rugrat is approaching a year and a half old, she’s getting smart. She’s also starting to show interest in things on TV. She’s noticing how we’ll play certain ways with certain toys. Because I’m slow, and not very bright, I’m just starting to realize how unimaginably quick she is to notice things, remember things and repeat things. This means it’s high time to start exposing her to awesomeness in all its forms.
She hasn’t got a chance.
Over the past few months, with a little help from Mom & Dad, she’s started to develop several different favourites. Her favourite animals at the moment are raccoons, horses, frogs and bunnies. She absolutely loves reading any books. She now loves the classic cast of Sesame Street (Pre-Elmo, that is. Elmo can go tickle himself, for all I care.) She also likes Yo Gabba Gabba.
But thanks to yours truly, she’s also in love with stuff that is fucking awesome. One of her favourite toys is a Hulk action figure. When she picks it up, she shouts “HULK! RRRAAAARRRGHHHHH!” Her favourite cartoons are ’67’s Spider-man and She-Ra: Princess of Power. She practically loses her shit when their theme songs start. I tried getting her to watch He-Man and the Masters of the Universe first, but she had nothing to do with it. Maybe once she’s more interested in She-Ra’s origins… Also, on that sheet up there, she likes to point out Yoda. Why? ‘Cause he’s Yoda. Duh. Kids fucking love Yoda.
It’s February 2nd. The Groundhog saw his shadow, and supposedly we’re in for lots more winter. But today, it was surprisingly mild in the afternoon. Mild enough that apparently a trio of teenagers forgot it was still winter and ventured outside. I saw them on the sidewalk as I was driving home today. Granted, I probably saw several people on the sidewalk as I was driving home today. But these three idiots stood out.