Deep Thoughts by Captain Falcon

Champion of Liberty

Haha! So this post is definitely what I had in mind when I first starting blogging! Nothing too in-depth, not too much about any one thing, just a big collection of random crap. So here it goes. Please fasten your seat belts and put all tray tables in their full, upright, locked position.
First order of business: my new job. I am working as a GSA over at the local Hastings. For those of you who don't know what a GSA is, basically I am the guy behind the cash register. Wait... wouldn't it just be easier to say you were a cashier? No! Saying that I am simply a cashier would imply that I had nothing to do with all of the remarkable bullshit that people demand of you at any retail outlet. For instance: "I am looking for some fucking bullshit Yu-Gi-Oh booster pack... where would that be?"
How the fuck should I know?!? Have you looked at the end of the aisle two feet from your current position where the all the rest of that shit is? No?!? Well you might want to start there, scooter. And being 12 is no excuse. Fuck that. When I was 12 I could shoot a rifle, had read the Swiss Family Robinson, and could name every single animal at the Sedgwick County Zoo. Fucking Yu-Gi-Oh... Go outside and play, you little bastards!
Or how about this little scenario: Is that all? Your total today is $64.85. "OK, well I have a lot of change here, let's see how much I have..." The woman then literally dumped out her pocketbook onto the counter and proceeds to count out $2.85 worth of pennies, dimes, and nickels (no quarters!) as 4 people wait in line. She then proceeded to write a check for the rest. (which, by the way, had rainbows, teddy bears, and hearts in fucking Technicolor all over the check) The worst part? Her 13 year old daughter was sitting there the whole time trying not to be embarrassed out of her mind and looking apologetically at all the people in the line. After I had endorsed the check and finished the transaction the woman suddenly remembers that she was going to reserve the new Harry Potter book for her daughter. The daughter was so mortified by this point that she actually stopped her mom and told me that they would do it another day. I felt really bad for the poor little girl, such an impressionable age... The best part of the whole thing is that Hastings keeps track of all your transaction times and uses them to assess your performance, determine raises and promotions, and in cases of long transaction times, give you write-ups. Total transaction time should be about 30 seconds. This transaction time? Close to five minutes. I had to give everyone in line free drinks because they waited so long, and in order to do that I had to call up the manager so she could authorize them all. Ugh... What fools these mortals be...
I have easily put all of this behind me, however, as I have recently seen a profound little movie which has given me a wonderful new perspective on things. I ♥ Huckabees (haha Matt) is a "juicy, offbeat, idiosyncratic look at life, love and relationships as told through a maze of existential philosophies." Nice life, Lycos. I would say the plot has more to do with not being a phony asshole and opening your eyes to the world around you so that you can discover what it is that truly makes you happy, but that's just me. Directed by the man who produced Anchorman, and fleshed out by some amazing actors, this movie has made me fall in love all over again with Captain Falcon. I think that, as it is technically my senior year again, the ol' captain might have to come out of retirement for one last hurrah. Call it a revisitation, a look back, or whatever they call the Tupac CD's that have been released since his death, but I have a strong feeling that Captain Falcon shall rise again, and right soon. Beware, evildoers. Be strong , noble citizens.

Falcon out

P.S. Splinter Cell kicks more ass than an ass-kicking robot on speed in a manequin factory.

Birthday Extravaganza!

Terry, Celeste, and Pepper

As everyone well knows, a person's 21st birthday is one of the more memorable nights of his or her life. The wonderful Catch-22, however, is that for a person's 21st to be truly memorable, they should remember as little of it as possible. What a fantastic concept.
While my big birthday ending up being quite unassuming, I have been present at quite a few birthdays that were heartily out of control and, whenever possible, I try to do all I can to contribute to others' lack of mental acuity.
My friend Ashley turned 21 on Monday and so I made the trek to Manhattan to help her make it a memorable night. Her roommates did a fantastic job of planning everything out for the night, and by the end of it all she had been driven around town, photographed in potentially inappropriate situations, made to carry a huge sign through Aggieville (Manhattan's main college thoroughfare), hugged by numerous strangers, used as an item on a frat scavenger hunt, and paraded through the streets waving at every car who drove by like some completely bewildered Miss America... all while she was blindfolded. It was a good night, and I had quite a few good laughs by the end of it.
Last night she was in Lawrence for a political internship schmoozing function and decided she wanted to go to the ol' Cadillac Ranch. Hee hee. In honor of this, my roommate Zach and I decided that we would dress the part of idiotic frat boys and have ourselves one hell of a time.
The music ran the full gamut of everything from Pour Some Sugar on Me, to Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy), to Like a Prayer, eventually winding up somewhere between Back That Azz Up and Brown Eyed Girl.
One thing I can say with all certainty is that I never thought that I would hear a room full of grown men and women stomping their feet and spelling "bananas" at the top of their lungs.
Drinks were consumed, rug was cut, and a good time was had by all. And, as you can see from the picture, I experienced it all in a bright pink shirt. Truly a night to remember, and I can honestly say that if I could have had a say in what my 21st birthday was like, I would have picked something pretty close to last night.

Hollaback Girl

Falcon out

Nine Days Later...

V600

Once again I have neglected my blogging duties and I have to apologize. It's been over a week since my last post... a new record! Luckily there has been quite a bit going on to distract me.
School has certainly swung into high gear as the semester reaches its death throws. Fortunately, as of Thursday, I am done with all my major tests until finals.
I got a new phone recently, a handsome representation of which resides to the right of this post. It's a Motorola V600 and I like it quite a bit. I had used the same phone for almost three years previously, and although it was an unstoppable juggernaut of telecommunication prowess, it was simply starting to show its age. As it started to reach the end of its proper functionality, I finally conceded that I was going to have to get a new phone. I eventually decided upon T-Mobile because they had the coolest phones and no one I know has ever had a complaint with their service. This was again a bit of a gamble because Alltel had never let me down and I actually felt bad switching to another company. But T-Mobile gave me one hell of a deal on the phone and service and, blinded by their glittering gifts, I simply could not refuse.
I was wracked with guilt for quite awhile, but as soon as I got to play with my new phone those feelings quickly subsided.
When encoded properly, I can transfer mp3's to my phone through the magic of Bluetooth and use them as ringtones. In other words, if you hear someone's phone start to play America, Fuck Yeah or Grandmaster Flash, take a quick look around, because it's probably me. No one else in the universe would be so audaciously obnoxious, a fact I take great pride in. It also has a camera in it, a fact that I am going to start taking advantage of on a more regular basis.
I have also realized that my blogging schedule seems to be based on the concept of binging and fasting; I should have a few more posts up within a day or so about some of the other events that have occupied so much of my time lately. Then, I am sure to go silent for a few days. Binge and fast. A vicious cycle.

Gotta Get Up

Falcon out

Hello faithful readers...

So recently I read my own blog and was startled by what has developed here over the past month or so. Apparently at some point, this has become less of my personal thoughts and more of a review column. I had originally intended for this to be a dumping ground of sorts for my thoughts, rantings, and day-to-day activities, but at some point I started saying nothing about myself and everything about the things that occupy a bit of my time; games, movies, music, planes, etc. An unexpected development that occurred at about the same time as my switch to a frickin' magazine format was that people actually started to read my blog. A few people. Yesterday I rolled over the 500-hit mark on the site.
Wow. Like I said, originally I was just writing this for the hell of it. I didn't expect people to actually read this drivel. But I suppose that since you're here, I'll try to keep this thing worth reading. So thanks to everyone who has been reading this for the past few months. And if this is your first time here... Hi! Especially if you're a lady...
Hey girl.
Hey.
But I digress... I also realized that the few entries that weren't devoted to reviews of the newest splatter-fest were centered on what I was going to do in the future. So I had an idea. Instead of wasting precious (that's right, PRECIOUS) space on telling you what might be coming in the future, I am going to overhaul my bar on the right to relay that info. I know that might cut down on the number of posts, but hopefully it will simply boost the posts' substance rather than cutting down on their frequency. Hopefully... So stay tuned for further updates.

Close to Me

Falcon out

Those Four Special Little Letters...

Alas, poor Yorick!

When I think about the roots of my addiction to video gaming, a few specific video games immediately come to mind. Super Mario Brothers 3 made me fall in love with platformers. The Legend of Zelda taught me patience. Mortal Kombat taught me that even if a game is amazing you should always stick around to the bitter end... that might just be the best part. Mega Man taught me that by slaying one's enemies, you become better, stronger, faster than before. NFL Blitz taught me to talk shit.
And then there was DOOM. DOOM taught me one of the most important lessons of all: Shoot anything that moves until it ceases to move. In other words, KILL! But that was over 10 years ago. The video game industry has undergone something of a makeover since then. But although the heart and mind of the industry have both made great strides in quite a few different directions, somewhere out there the spirit of run and gun has survived. Where you ask? At id software, friends, at id software.
Objectives... *pfffff!* Checkpoints... *pfffff!* Plot... *pfffff!*
KILL!
DOOM 3 is quite an impressive game. The graphics are astounding. The Dolby Digital blows the doors off the game. And that's right, you guessed it, you kill anything and everything that moves. The controls feel a bit gawky at first, but you can configure any button to execute almost any function and once you get used to the way the game moves, you are off and running and murdering hellspawn like a human buzz-saw. Which makes wielding the chainsaw something of a poetic metaphor... a very bloody, frightening metaphor.
This game really captured the spirit of the original DOOM while bringing it into the 21st century with a huge bang. Just as Quake III was one of the first games to require 3-D Hardware Accelerator support, DOOM 3 required just about everyone in the PC world to go out and buy a new graphics card. This game squeezes out every last drop of graphical power that the Xbox has to offer and makes me really wonder (and marvel at the thought of) what the next generation of hardware will be capable of. With that thought, I have to go curl up in the fetal position and prepare my ass for the kicking that it will receive in about a year. Have a nice day.

Be Yourself

Falcon out

A Return to Kicking Ass: Part II

Hello again, everyone. Sorry I have been so lax in my updating schedule, but with the sheer quantity of cool things happening right now I simply have been too busy living my life to find time to comment on it.
A few nights ago Apollo 13 came on TV, and Matt and I started to watch it. Matt was so filled with awe and wonder that he decided to stop putting off buying the 10th anniversary DVD and just bite the bullet. After our late-night excursion to Wal-Mart, we popped it in and watched some of the documentaries and started the film with the director commentary. Matt already gave a pretty good play-by-play of the whole thing over on his blog, so I won't rehash it. Needless to say, being slapped in the face by what a paragon of outstandingship America used to be, the pollution-advertisement-Indian tear welled up in my eye. You know the one. You see something that used to be pristine and tremendous wallowing in bloated decay and you just can't understand how it has come to this. Astronauts used to be rock stars; everyone knew their names, interviews with them were shown on TV during prime time, kids didn't want to just grow up to be an astronaut, they wanted to grow up to be Jim Lovell, Fred Haise, Jack Swigert.
I challenge you to name one modern astronaut. Go ahead. I bet you can't even name one of the astronauts who died in the tragic Challenger crash. But I guess when you're busy following Johnny Knoxville, Jessica Simpson, and Jerry Springer are you really don't have time for much else.
Come on America, we used to kick so much ass. There have been enough moon missions that have left enough shit up on the surface of the moon that we could have an intergalactic garage sale if we wanted to. It only took us 66 years to go from the first manned flight to landing on the moon. And what have we accomplished in the 36 years since then? Nothing, other than combining a satellite with a remote-controlled car. Wow... pretty impressive.
Don't get me wrong, America still kicks ass. In fact, an argument could be made that we are the greatest empire ever in the history of the world. But we don't do anything that kicks ass anymore. Now we only make things that kick ass. And believe you me; there is a huge difference. Ponder that for a while.
On another note, I should have a few posts coming up here in rapid succession. Look for DOOM 3, Splinter Cell: Chaos Theory, and Sin City to all make appearances in the next few days. Until then, take care and do something that kicks ass just for the hell of it... that's what made America great.

For the Nasty

Falcon out

Funky, Chain-Smoking, Robot Cowboys with Synthesizer Keys for Teeth

Kickin the dust diggin thru ditches

Initially I didn't want to get my hopes up too high for Guero. Beck’s last album was a bit lackluster, to say the least. Don't get me wrong, there were a few good songs on it and Beck can make incredibly beautiful sad songs, but the album was just soooo damn depressing. But more importantly, it simply wasn't on par with the amazing albums that Beck usually puts out. I simply couldn't afford to get my hopes up, only to have them dashed to pieces on the jagged rocks of failure. My fears were rendered null, however, when I read an interview with Beck conducted while he was mixing his album. His exact quote was, "There's definitely a lot more jokes and kicking cardboard boxes and rattling chains and playing slide guitar. This album is full of raggedness."
Muhwawhahahahaha!. That's the Beck I know! After that kind of claim, my fears seemed laughably ridiculous.
Another quote that caught my attention ran thusly: "In the past I spent a lot of time rejecting sounds that were similar to what I'd come up with before just to purposefully try to get away from anything familiar. But at a certain point you just decide not to second-guess it."
It suddenly occurred to me that Beck has never made two albums that sound alike. His range of styles is possibly the most diverse in the world today. He has made gutbucket albums, dance-party albums, and "what the hell is this?" albums. He has rocked out with ritmos latinos calientes, put humor into hardcore rapping, played harmonica and sang about the devil and robots more than any other human on Earth. And now he has done the impossible; he has brought all of his myriad styles together into one big, happy family that resides on a single disc.
This is not only a great new album, but also a kind of walk down memory lane. There are songs that explore all-new realms and add new entries to the Becktionary, songs that mirror Odelay, echoes of Mutations, and a few fat beats straight out of Midnite Vultures. The only albums not really represented in fine form are Beck's first three offerings, but considering their appalling lack of interest to anyone except fans of unkempt, tattered bullshit, that's probably for the best. The picture of the car up top is my dedication to those missing three.
Don't miss this album and if you can, pick up the deluxe edition. It comes with a DVD that has two music videos, a 5.1 mix of album, a really cool visual remix feature that appears onscreen as the 5.1 mix plays, and a few other fun things worth a look. The main disc also has 3 extra songs and 4 remixes. The 5.1 mix is amazingly clear, crisp, and masterfully mixed to take advantage of all the speaker channels. And while it is worth paying the extra money all by itself, the extra tracks are just as impressive. The three original songs are just as good, if not better, than several of the songs on the regular album and the remixes were all created by outside talents such as Dizzee Rascal and Boards of Canada. The bands' styles are paired wonderfully to the songs they are remixing and they all sound great. In other words, go buy this album.

Falcon out