Jamison Trumpets

Words an English Teacher Should Know (But Doesn't)

May 27th, 2011 by DanielRGT

I have a friend who is a middle school English teacher. I’ve known him for several years now and there are things about him that never cease to amaze me about him. The one thing that amazes me the most, however, would have to be his keen and almost encyclopedic knowledge of Webster’s Dictionary of the English language, except that I would like to ask that you respectfully replace “Webster’s Dictionary of the English language” with a song entitled “Slaves Built the Pyramids.”

I don’t claim to be some sort of English savant that hangs out with English every Saturday to play poker or some shit, but I do consider myself at the very least above-average at the incredible craft that is English. When one encounters an English teacher, the natural reaction would be to most likely humble yourself in the English department of your life. The main thought that comes to mind is, “This guy’s an actual English teacher, if I try to flaunt my fancy-pants English around he may trump me with the use of intimidating words and these semicolons I hear so much about.”

Thanks to my friend the English teacher (who for the sake of anonymity we will call “Buddy” from now on), I have never encountered that situation. It wasn’t until after I had met and talked with Buddy that it was revealed that he was an English teacher, which admittedly confused me. Talking with someone you can usually get a good feeling about their understanding and grasp of the English language, and my immediate reaction when talking to Buddy is that he was kind of a “bro”. So when the information that he was a middle school English teacher was revealed to me, I was immediately suspect.

“There’s no way,” I thought to myself. Now, I wish that the end of this long story was me being proved wrong and he actually has a shrine to Mark Twain in his closet, but alas life is not like in the movies. Everyday I am only reaffirmed of my initial thought when dealing with Buddy. Don’t get me wrong, Buddy is a nice person and that’s all well and good, but Buddy chose a strange profession for one still attempting to excavate past the meaning of high school level vocabulary and writing.

As such, I felt it only right to present you (the reader) with some of my findings. I shall update this list weekly (or bi-weekly depending on if Buddy’s having a good vocabulary week) with words that I think a middle school English teacher should know but quite frankly does not. This isn’t meant to be a big list trying to make fun of Buddy, except that just kidding it totally is.

The List

  • Solace – As Buddy put it when he had to look it up when I used it in a text message to attempt to demean him in some way, solace means “something that gives comfort.” It’s a very basic word that I knew, when sending a text message using the word, Buddy would have no clue what it would mean. After spending many years being friends with Buddy, it’s almost guaranteed which parts of the dictionary will confuse him the most. The X session probably just looks like mayhem to him, or possibly an MS Escher painting. Actually, Buddy almost guaranteed has no clue who MC Escher is.

  • Parthenon – Admittedly, the Parthenon isn’t really a vocabulary word as much as it is a place. The reason it’s listed here, however, is that Buddy is much older than I am. I’m currently 21 and Buddy is about 26. Not everyone knows exactly what role the Parthenon played in history, but goddamnit if you’re a 26 year old middle school English teacher I would hope that you would know how to recognize and  pronounce the word. Buddy pronounced it “Parthemom”, which brings to mind the question what does Buddy think a parthemom is? It’s got the suffix -mom, which might imply maternal aspects to this building. This might be the club house for moms who like to…parthe…things? Maybe parthe has to do with partitions? It kinda sounds like part, as in to part like the Red Sea. Yes, this makes sense. This is what it is.

  • Intercourse – Get your mind out of the gutter sonny, I’m talking about the literal definition here. Admittedly, this may have less to do with Buddy’s grasp of the English language and more a result of the society we live in today. I would be more inclined to believe this statement if it weren’t for the fact that Buddy is an English teacher. Intercourse literally means “dealings or communication between individuals, groups, countries, etc.” When two people talk with each other, they are having intercourse. This is something I learned my freshman year of high school; this is something that Buddy never learned. This goes back to Buddy’s “brotastic” personality. Buddy’s world revolves around making inappropriate sex jokes and farting every 5 seconds, so it’s not odd that when he hears the word “intercourse” he immediately wants to start talking about his sexual escapades. Except that Buddy is a middle school English teacher. Welp.

Expect this list to grow exponentially (Buddy knows this word) as I find more words that Buddy should yet doesn’t know. It’ll be like a science experiment, except that my thesis has already been proven so I’m continuing it for the absolute shit of it.


Video Game Reviewers: Ask Yourself This Question

May 19th, 2010 by DanielRGT

I read a fantastic article (and by fantastic I mean pile of dog shit) the other day written by a gentleman (idiot) over at IGN (Canada). The article, in layman’s terms, stated that sequels need to die out, and that if you like sequels you’re awful and don’t like games or support games for that matter. He then goes on to say how much he likes sequels, but just kidding they desperately need to die, seriously guys fuck sequels. (“Sequels killed my brother.”)

His big analogy to wrap up his fantastically written article goes something like this (Author’s Note: I am paraphrasing a great deal here, so this is not what he said word-for-word, but pretty damn close to it):

“I lived in some shithole when I was a kid. This place sucked, you know? Well, you don’t know so I’ll explain it. It sucked, it sucked forrealz. But I liked it, maybe because I was a stupid kid. It had this magical charm that places have when you’re a very unintelligent kid. I went back there years later to visit the place where I grew up, and I realized how awful it was. This has something to do with video games somehow.”

I’ll translate the above quote for you, just so you don’t have to go through all the painstaking work I ended up doing to decipher these hieroglyphics. He equates his shitty hometown to original versions that sequels are based off of (Example: Super Mario Bros.). He then proceeds to equate his “growing up and returning to his awful hometown” as how he, as a supposed “adult gamer”, didn’t quite feel the same spark he felt when he was a horrible child.

Now here are some reasons why this guy is an idiot (other than the fact that he’s blatantly one). First of all, his analogy (in case you didn’t notice) makes no sense. Not even a little really, in fact it’s not even related to what his article is about (which if you forgot, was about sequels to video games). His analogy really states this:

“Old games are great when you are a kid, but when you get older the old games are not as great.”

This would make sense if you were a crazy person, but it doesn’t translate well over here in sanity-land. Old games are great when you are a kid, and the majority of the time they retain their greatness into the future as well. Sequels, while containing similar characters, settings, and sometimes mechanics, are completely different games in their own right and (with the exception of how they relate to their prequel) should be treated as such. Super Mario 64 is astronomically different than Super Mario Bros., with the exception of the characters used.

Eventually, he brings fighting games into his argument bringing up the widely received game, “Street Fighter IV.” In his article, he reminisces of the days he spent playing Super Street Fighter II on his SNES (which if you think about it, falls under his veil of sequels that shouldn’t exist thanks to those Roman Numerals there) and how he had so much trouble doing his fireballs back in the day. Those quarter-circle forward motions were a doozy man, let me tell you.

Now with the newer addition, he says that he still has the same trouble doing those quarter-circle forward motions which, if you knew anything about Street Fighter IV, you would instantly recognize as bullshit because you can’t do much in that game without accidentally doing quarter-circle forward motions. This is one of the game’s actual downsides as it were, but either he has never played Street Fighter IV or he forgot that quarter-circle forward motions involve the joystick part of the controller, you know that stick that moves the character around.

I can easily get on board with what was probably going through his head when he wrote this article (other than the cocaine), and that is nowadays it’d be refreshing to see some original games. No doubt, original games are always exciting to see and they, if done right, bring something extraordinary to the table. The fact of the matter is, however, when an original game comes out the developers and publishers instantly recognize that a sequel would be received fairly well, and even if you put it up to a “poor choice” by that developer/publisher, a lot of the time it is what the fans want.

This stems from the fact that a lot of the time, severe originality is a “turn-off” as it were to gamers. Familiar mechanics, setting, and gameplay put the gamer at ease and create an environment that is easier to have fun in. Games such as Katamari Damacy (which if you haven’t played, is extremely wacky and Japanese) are so vastly original that some gamers may think, “I’m not sure what’s going on here. This is fucking insane.” They’d rather sit in the comfort zone of Mario or Link, knowing easily what to expect from the game: platforms and pigs.

This doesn’t mean sequels are bad though, in fact they’re healthy. Sequels, if done right, bring something new to that series and are either executed great (e.g. Kingdom Hearts 2) or executed poorly and end up falling flat (e.g. Every Sonic Game after Sonic Adventure). These slight alterations to the series open the doors to change and originality, which eventually create great original titles that may not have been able to be received as well earlier, but can now be received with open arms.

So, as the title of this post says, I really wish video game reviewers would ask themselves this particular question:

“What exactly is a game?”

Part of me really feels that video game reviewers end up having to play way too many video games to do their job, and as a result almost get desensitized by it all. They’ve lost touch on what a game really is; a form of entertainment in order to achieve the abstract concept known as “fun.” Nowadays, gamers get split up into two categories: Casual and Hardcore. To me, what type of gamer you are is irrelevant. A game either appeals to you or doesn’t, there’s no such thing to me as a game that is strictly casual or hardcore.

Sequels, while unoriginal, fall under the category of game. You can bring up all the questions you’d like on whether they should exist or not, but the fact of the matter is the only question that really matters is if those games are worth playing; if they are fun at all. If the answer is no, then maybe you could make the argument that the game shouldn’t have existed, or maybe it could have been executed a little better, but if the game is outright fun there is no reason to ever think that a particular brand of games should die out, even if they do seem unoriginal to you.

I understand that with reviewing gamers comes great difficulty, as well as timing issues. Reviewers are often playing lots of games in a short period of time, and this brings up whether or not they can fully appreciate the game or not. Sure, you can have a “first impression” as it were, but I don’t think you can fully enjoy the game outright having a deadline impending.

I don’t expect for this article to change much of anything (especially considering the audience for this blog being to people I know), but it’d be nice to see less articles proving how asinine video game reviewers can be, and more showing how they truly understand what a game really is.

Castlevania: Haelp I'm Confused

May 19th, 2010 by DanielRGT

There’s a lot to be said about Castlevania. There are castles, certainly, and on top of that some obscure and unidentifiable substance known as “vania.” On top of that, there’s Dracula (or his surprise twist of a son, Alucard), Death, zombies, ghosts, zombie-ghosts, ghost-axemen, axemen-zombies, medusa heads, and fishmen.

It was certainly an original game when it came out for the NES, but when people go around spouting how good these games were, I get a little confused. The first source of my confusion stems from the fact that all old castlevania games, without fail, are fucking awful. I mean it, they’re really bad. Like any movie with Pauly Shore bad.

The old games, using a mixture of brilliant game design and mechanics, bring together the best parts and memories of falling in pits of water (and subsequently dying), attempting to hit some unreachable enemy (Spoiler: He can hit you), getting hit by random flying medusa heads or other related projectiles and falling in previously-mentioned pits of water, and attempting to jump across a chasm that was specifically built to harbor your doom.

Actually the only thing these games really have going for them, which is probably why people enjoy them so, is because of their exceptional music. It’s actually beyond exceptional, but I don’t want to spend several lines having a figurative boner over these tunes, so suffice to say the music is excellent. Which brings me to why I believe people play these games.

Good music in a game has a powerful effect on people. There are games I have played longer than I really should have (such as Castlevania) because of their music. Hell, I will sometimes even leave the game on, not move my character, and go and do something else because I want to listen to the music.

This does not, however, tell me that the game is good. If the game is a piece of ass, the music will not suddenly turn the game into a masterpiece. On the contrary, I feel pity for the game because it had such good music but was left to be a miserable pile of shit that not even its own mother could love.

This does not explain, however, why people like old Castlevania games. Pretty much everything before Symphony of the Night is an awful game and should feel awful, but you will see over and over again how much people liked the first Castlevania, how Castlevania 4 is the best game ever to have existed ever always, how Richter would look so cool in my apartment.

I’ve got to tell you I’m sick of it. Good music does not make up for poor gameplay and horrible jumping mechanics. Actually the only old Castlevania game with okay jump mechanics IS Super Castlevania 4, which is probably why people tend to enjoy it so much. It’s not a very good game, but even a pile of dirt will shine gold if compared to the previous piles of excrement you saw earlier.

Narrative Writing and J.T.'s List of No-Nos

January 25th, 2010 by DanielRGT

Don’t like writing? Think writing is for weenies? Do you pick up books and base their chance of being purchased based on the ratio of half-naked women on the cover to sexual euphemisms in the title (The most successful known ratio to date has been 10 to 1 belonging, of course, to The Bible)? If you said yes to any of these questions, then the following post is probably not for you. Why you may ask? Well the reason being is that you may confuse my list of what I believe to be trends of bad writing (and all bad writing related incorporations) for being exceptionally good writing. The confusion that will settle in your brain will be enough to kill you ten times over and then an eleventh time on top of that.

Writing has been around for ages (almost 4 years now!) and as a result of other people’s success, many have tried their hand at writing. They think to themselves, “If a story about gay vampires and personality-less women can be hugely successful, then my story about gay vampires mummies and personality-less women will be just as successful!” Unfortunately for the human race, they are probably not far off the mark. This doesn’t change the simple fact, however, that with new rookie writers comes a lot of new rookie bad and horrible writers.

The main offender would be those darn teenagers and their rap music, always stomping all over my begonias on my lawn. This isn’t to say that all bad writers are teenagers, but almost all teenagers are bad writers.

What makes bad writers so horrible though? To me, there are different types of bad writers. There are the bad writers who generally realize that they are not fantastic writers and want to improve. These people may or may not be good writers in a couple of months/years/decades, but the fact is that they have the right idea.

Then there are bad writers who write the worst shit in the world. The type of writing that hurts your brain to read it, the type of writing that you think to yourself only one word (“WHY?!”), the type of writing that absolutely needs to be buried very far underground so as to not harm other people with it’s harmful UV rays. Then when you say that their story could use some improvement, you are somehow at fault for not “understanding their vision.” Well yes, I suppose you’re right. I couldn’t understand your horrible, awful, atrocity of a vision. I apologize that when I read stories I expect to be entertained, not in physical pain. My bad.

This is supposed to be a list though, right? Then let’s get a-listing (not to be confused with A-Listing) on trends of bad writings and things that if you want to be a better writer, you’ll avoid.

Number One: Character Naming

If you’re writing a story, you probably have characters in it. Characters are a key part of any story (unless it has no characters, then it’s really more of a poem) and as a result these characters have names. Naming characters is a difficult thing to do, and trust me I am well aware of the difficulty. I can’t name characters for shit, so trust me I know your pain.

So there you are naming your character and you start going through names in your head. “What should I name my protagonist? Should I name him Randy…maybe Henry…what about Johnathan…or Candy. Yeah, maybe he’s a stripper. No wait, that’s not right…” You’re desperately trying to come up with something decent, so you start thinking of names of other characters you enjoy.

This may or may not be you, but this is a lot of other prospective writers. Confused as to what I’m about to talk about? Well, what I am saying is that there are people who thoroughly enjoy watching japanese animation. As such, the characters in these stories have japanese names such as Sakura or Me Llamo Biscuit. Then it hits you like way too many bricks falling on you (Any number greater than zero bricks is way too many bricks); what if you were to name your character something cool like that?

It’s perfect! You’re writing a story about a kid who grew up in the suburbs of Arkansas, he’s lived with his mother and father (Julia and Bobbert, respectively) and it’s only natural that they would name their child Ichigo. All normal American parents name their pure American child born in America on American soil in an American hospital living in an American city with their American relatives something  as un-American as possible.

Number Two: Setting, Setting, Setting

Your story has its characters now, but these characters have to interact somewhere right? What’s a story without a setting, a place for the action to take place? Now it’s time for you to make that difficult decision, so you think to yourself what’s the easiest place you can write about. Unfortunately, this is probably your thought process: “Hmm, so I go to school. I could make my character be a student and then something ca-razy happens that turns his life in school into being way ca-razy.” You are of course well aware that ca-razy is a sub-branch of plain old vanilla crazy.

Your idea of writing about a character that goes to school, however, has been overdone. It’s been beaten to death, been turned into the worst type of “new writer cliche”, been beaten to death by Colonel Mustard with the candle in the living room. It’s understandable that people would choose a school as their setting, because what do teenagers know better than the angst-filled public education institute that they are currently presiding at. So they’ll place their character in their “made up” angst-filled public education institute where they will undergo many angst-filled public education institute situations, possibly they are shunned or embarassed by other angst-filled students at the angst-filled public education institute.

I’m here to tell you that your idea is boring as shit (if you hadn’t caught that already). What’s the way to remedy this? It’s very easy, avoid writing angsty stories about angsty teenagers at angsty schools with angsty teachers. This is not to say that your setting couldn’t be a school, but think to yourself whether or not it really has to be a school. Your story is about a teenager (possibly filled with angst) who is seemingly normal. Your character meets a “suspicious” person and suddenly their world is turned “upside-down” because now they have all these special powers and the government is very racist against special-powered people and they don’t believe they should be married because they feel that marriage should be between a man and a woman…

Whoa, whoops! Got a little side-tracked there! What I am trying to say is that your setting doesn’t necessarily have to be in a school. For example, your story could be just as effective if performed in (why not?) the Sahara Desert! Your character could be a teenager (possibly filled with angst) who is seemingly normal in the desert. Your character meets a “suspicious” cactus and suddenly their world is turned into nothing new because they still live in the desert. This might sound different than your original idea, but the plusses are that it takes place in the desert.

Number Three: Pitiful Attempts at Humor

You probably think you’re a funny person. You remember very clearly that time you were out with your friends and you did something that barely qualifies as mildly amusing and suddenly you’ve decided that today you’ll work on your life-long dream of being a stand-up comic. This is nothing like yesterday where you decided to fulfill your life-long dream of being an artist, no this is completely different. Now it’s the next day, and you’ve figured out that your life-long dream since you were a small child has been to become a writer (duh). Why not combine the best of both worlds though? You want to write stories but you want to make people chuckle to themselves in the process. Maybe your story is very serious (possibly in the desert?) but there are openings for humor.

So you begin to write in a blaze of poorly written fire. You start writing your story and also try and add a few “chortle-startles” as you call them when not in the vicinity of anyone you know to breathe oxygen. You take a look at your first chapter and you think to yourself (possibly in the desert?) that you are the most hilarious writer to have ever existed. Unfortunately, your first chapter has almost no content at all and is simply just a sea of poorly written jokes, horrible punchlines, unhumorous situations, and (if you took my advice) the desert.

How do you remedy this? There are some ways to do so. The first and most obvious remedy is to stop trying to be so goddamn funny you horrible excuse for a comedy writer. Not everyone can write humor, it’s not a skill that every writer is capable of. It’s not easy to write in a way that’ll produce a chuckle, and then on top of that there’s always the possibility that the type of humor you are writing does not appeal to the reader. Trust me when I say this is a real problem, especially when you are deciding whether or not you want to attempt a certain type of humor. “What if the reader doesn’t enjoy it? What if they hate it? What if they get offended?” These are things I used to ask myself before I said fuck it and decided to write the type of humor that I wanted to write (specifically, good humor).

The other way to remedy this is to put humor but don’t put the amount of humor you initially forced in there. There’s a second part to this remedy as well, and that is to ask several people to read over your work and ask them whether or not they think the humor is good, helping, or detrimental to the storyline. Slapping in a joke in the scene where a pair of camels are ripping the protagnist’s best friend in half is not a good idea.

Number Four: Novels of Description within the Novel

Confused by what I am saying? You won’t be as soon as I explain it to you. I want to ask you if you have read any bad stories lately. You probably have because it’s staring back at you on your computer screen. Let me ask you this then, does this look in any way familiar?

“Becky entered the room desert walking pretty fast-like and stuff. She had golden blonde hair with curly pigtails with blue ribbons in her hair. She was wearing a red t-shirt that says ‘Show me da money’ with white squigglies on the sleeves and her pants were faded blue jeans that were bejewled to say her name only the person who bejeweled it misspelled her name as ‘Bucket’. She was wearing white sneakers with rainbow laces and she had painted on them to make them look prettier. Her skin was tanned because of the hot sun and now she was sweating and she had this look on her face like she didn’t really want to be in the sun but now that she was in the sun she sort of had no choice. There she was, there stood Becky.

Becky is also about five foot, eight inches tall and she was sort of lanky with a lot of freckles on her face…”

There is one question that comes to mind when you read this “excerpt” that I just wrote up right now: “Who gives a fuck?” Is Becky that important that we have to care so much about the excruciating detail of her apparel? That next paragraph better end in, “Then Becky was stabbed by fifty muggers Saharan thieves and she died what experts would call the most painful death that any human could ever experience,” because that is what everyone was hoping would happen the second Becky’s stupid face was mentioned.

Ease up on the detail when describing characters. Detail is good and all, but too much detail and every single one of your characters is going to have to end up like Becky for your story to even survive past Chapter Three.

So what now? I’ve explained some things you should avoid when writing, but your story probably still is lacking! Well, unfortunately I can’t help you in this one post alone. So what is Jamison Trumpets going to do for you? We’ll keep you in suspense (just like any desert-themed book would do) and continue with our insights on writing and how to improve it.

Do you have any suggestions or ideas that writers should generally avoid or be cautious around? Want to see your idea on this list come to life with my own personal brand of horrible writing? Shoot me an e-mail at jamisontrumpets@gmail.com and if it’s spot on or good enough, you’ll see it in an upcoming post (with your name in “da credits”) and you can brag to all your friends how you showed up on a no-name blog written by somebody who nobody really knows!

Welcome to the REAL Miami

January 6th, 2010 by DanielRGT

Heat! Sand! Ocean! Scantily-Clad Women! These are the things that people think of when they think of living life in Miami. Well I’m here to tell you that there are still also people who think that the world is flat.

Miami isn’t anything like this. I don’t know who started this clearly flawed rumor, but I would like a refund on my purchase because my life could definitely use some more scantily-clad women. People probably get this misconception of Miami from a place called “South Beach.”

I’ve only ever been there once, but as the name implies there is a beach and it is somewhere in the southern part of someplace that can exist as the southern part of something. Re-read that sentence if you didn’t quite get it because it makes perfect sense.

As I was saying, South Beach is exactly what people want from Miami. There is a beach nearby which, one would assume, has sand and an (Information still waiting to be verified) ocean. As for scantily-clad women, this information is still false.

“It’s a beach though, aren’t women wearing their super hot bathing suits?” Well, you would be right except that they aren’t wearing their bathing suits. How does this make sense? Let me repeat that for you. They would be wearing their bathing suits but they aren’t.

That’s right, I’m talking about the luscious fruit that men so frantically desire. I’m talking of course about ponchos, because unfortunately for people’s now shattered dreams it rains a lot in Miami.

When it’s not raining though, it’s what you think. Scantily-clad women as far as the eye can see, except that you’ve now clamped them shut because the wrong women are very scantily-clad.

Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not being insensitive anything. I’m not saying, “Oh man that girl is ugly so I don’t want to see her in a bathing suit.” I’m talking about moms, moms in their late 40s. Moms who have had upwards of four to seven children within the past hour. These are not the type of women you want to be seeing while cruising for chicks, booze, or bags of fattening potato chips. These are the type of women you want to be seeing in parkas, layers upon layers of parkas. Even when they go to the hospital suffering from parka induced heat-stroke, you want to see at least a minimum of three parkas on her when she’s lying in her hospital bed.

But wait! I’m missing something aren’t I? That’s right, I mentioned something about heat at the beginning of this didn’t I? Well, that part about Miami is painstakingly true. It is hot in Miami, it is very hot. It is hot as fuck.

When it comes to Miami though, there’s one thing you can take comfort in. If you haven’t heard, people in Miami are dumb. When I say that, you are probably imagining a dumb person in your head. What I need you to do is imagine a person who is eight to ten times dumber than your idea of a dumb person, and then multiply that by eighty. That’s how dumb people in Miami are.

Most of this idiocy is transported directly into Miami’s driving skills. People are shitty drivers here, and it has everything to do without how dumb (and ignorantly arrogant) everyone is here. Stop signs mean a very specific thing (To stop). In Miami, the word “STOP” means a completely different thing. It means “put the pedal to the metal”, it means “GO, GO, GO”, it means do everything in the world except for the very action of stopping.

This is just a look into what Miami really is, and I wholeheartedly apologize for crushing your naive Miami-based dreams. However, if you were to donate some money you could be the one to put some parkas on those mothers.

Happy New Trumpets

January 1st, 2010 by DanielRGT

It’s the new year friends. The year 2010, it’s been 10 years after the dreaded Y2K which so rightly “fucked our shit up” when all of our systems failed, our computers fried, our babies had babies, and Linkin Park was named “best band of all time.”

Whoa! Calm down there sir, there’s no need to start hyperventilating. You need not worry, none of the shit I just said ever happened. Y2K didn’t happen, all of our systems were fine (their blue screens shining as blue as ever!), our computers didn’t fry, our babies decided that abstinence was the way to go and put on their chastity belts, and Linkin Park was still fucking awful. This is something you can take comfort in.

It’s been a whole decade after that ordeal, and there are a lot of things racing through your mind. The first and foremost most likely being where can you get yourselves one of those dope ass segways. I can’t answer that question unfortunately, because for me to reveal that secret would be condeming you to a life of solitary confinement in which you would be forced to watch me ride one around. You’d probably ask me something like, “Can I get a turn?” and I’d simply scoff at your ridiculous question.

Of course you can’t have a fucking turn it’s my goddamn segway.

With this new year you’re probably thinking of some resolutions. Most people often have resolutions that sound realistic and achievable, but the person never ends up completing them. You’ll be sitting there on the couch pondering your New Year’s based fantasies and you think, “My resolution this year will be to lose a little weight and exercise a little more.”

Sounds reasonable right? You would think so, but in fact the complete opposite happens. The person, instead of eating less, hires a group of burly men to drive forklifts of delicious food into your mouth. Instead of exercising more, you lead a political campaign proposing that treadmills should be made to work in camps and should be stripped of all rights. The end result is that you end up buying several plots of land just to contain your fatass to property you own.

You can be a complete jerk sometimes.

I think instead of making reasonable sounding resolutions, you should strive to make your resolution as inachievable and farfetched as possible. At the end of the day instead of owning your own mobile cheese-grating robot companion, being president of the nega-universe (a different yet equally related sub-division of what is referred to as the “regullah ol’ universe”), and opening one of those ridiculously hard to open protective packaging that comes with shit you really want to use right at this very moment but you can’t because it is currently being protected by like 8 super-layers of plastic and titanium, you will instead have found a quarter on the ground, own one of those cool yet still sort of lame dog robots that breaks within 2 days, and have acquired a box of already used batteries.

A year well spent I would say.

New Species Discovered: Wolfpires

November 20th, 2009 by DanielRGT

Jamison was hard at work in his office just last night when suddenly an anonymous phone call came in. Of course, this was very suspicious so just to be sure we recorded the conversation. Here is a transcript of the conversation:

Jamison Trumpets: *brap*?
Anonymous Phone Caller: I have some information that may interest you.
JT: *brap*
APC: Your recent article on John Donahue and his love for vampires has brought about something bigger than you thought.
JT: *brap*
APC: I know what you’re thinking, but this information is legit.
JT: *brap*
APC: How can you trust me? Don’t I sound trustworthy?
JT: *brap*
APC: Well I don’t see how she has anything to do with this…
JT: *brap*
APC: Well…I suppose…
JT: *brap*
APC: Low blow man…low blow…
JT:
APC: Since you seem so eager to get this information, how about we work out a deal? How’s $100 for this information sound?
JT: *brap*
APC: How is that unreasonable?
JT: *brap*
APC: But I enjoy my kneecaps…
JT: *brap*
APC: Fine, fine, fine! How about I lower it to $75?
JT: …..*brap*
APC: Well no, I’m not particularly fond of dying…
JT: *brap*
APC: Ok! Fine! You win! $25!
JT: *brap*
APC: You still won’t take that!? What else do you want? I’m not giving this away for free you know!
JT: *brap*
APC: Oh…well I guess that technically isn’t free… though I don’t see how me paying you 20 dollars for this information that I have is in any way fair.
JT: *brap*
APC: You’re more informed than I thought… I thought nobody knew about my love for antique toilets. I’ll give you the 20 dollars later…do you want this information?
JT: *brap*!
APC: The John Donahue story has brought to light something even more disconcerting. You thought he was only delving into the forbidden fruit that is vampires, when you couldn’t be more wrong. Not only is he into vampires, he’s into werewolves as well.
JT: *brap*?
APC: I’m not lying! I have photographic evidence! The man we knew as John Donahue is no longer a human…at this point he must have evolved into a new species: the wolfpire.
JT: *brap*
APC: I know it sounds ridiculous, I know! But listen, you need to check your e-mail. I’ve sent you the photograph on there, I expect you to expose the wolfpires for what they really are: a bunch of big gay neenies.
JT: *brap*
APC: I’m not a wolfpire.
JT: *brap*
APC: No really, I swear I’m not a wolfpire.
JT: *brap*
APC: Fine I’m a wolfpire. Except not really.
JT: *brap*
APC: Fuck you.

CALL ENDED

The conversation was suspicious certainly, but the facts check out. John Donahue has ascended to wolfpirehood, that is to say he is both a werewolf and a vampire. His status as a human is long since lost and such should be considered extremely dangerous! If he offers to check your neck for any cancerous moles or offers you a moonlit stroll on the beach, JUST SAY NO! Alternately, you can Stop, Drop, and Roll to safety. Wolfpires have been known to find this action confusing, and as such you have ample time to flee.

To prove that Donahue has achieved this special status, we present to you the conclusive evidence that he’s delving into what other wolfpires would refer to as “sweet, delicious, werewolf lovin'”.

K-I-S-S-I-N-G

K-I-S-S-I-N-G

You see this filth? This news writes itself, John is no longer safe to be with. You see the flash drive in his hands? It’s not holding school data as we once thought, it’s in fact holding the love letters sent between him and Jacob during his night class on Tuesdays. You may be thinking we know a little bit too much about John, but that’s our job as a news reporter. We must report the facts, even if they can sound stalkerish and creepy.

To give you a little understanding on how Wolfpires make sense, let’s have a little explanation. First, Wolfpires originate from the two words: Werewolf and Empire State Building. The reason for the latter is because vampires love tall buildings. John has spent time with both Edward and Jacob, and as such his DNA structure has changed entirely. He no longer has innocent thoughts of becoming an astronaut, or of dressing up like Batman and masquerading around town in a hilarious montage.

Instead, John now spends his time daydreaming of wearing dark cloaks and his fake vampire teeth (until he grows his own pair of course) and sneaking up on Edward and Jacob to play “innocent” pranks on them. All of these pranks almost always end with vulgar results. That’s right, you guessed it: they begin to do each others taxes. It’s sickening really (Taxes that is. I guess vampires too.), having to watch them sit there with their graphing calculators.

After spending time with Edward, John will sneak out and go to his favorite spot in the woods to meet up with his love on the side, Jacob. Once there, John gives Jacob legal advice. This is just gross, and as such I will not go into further detail.

Now that I’ve exposed John for what he really is, you may be worried that us here at the Times will be in danger ourselves of the oncoming onslaught of wolfpires. That’s ok though, because we have knowledge of a wolfpire’s one weakness: not giving them a high five.

That’s right, wolfpires are desperate for high fives, to the point where they will whore themselves out just to get a high five. Odds are if you’ve ever purchased a “street walker” (which we here at the Times certainly do not condone, especially on the corner of 24th and Palm) and she/he asks you for a high five right after they are probably a wolfpire and as a result you should run the fuck away.

After all, if you don’t they might start doing your taxes.

Convenience and Escalators

October 20th, 2009 by DanielRGT

I live in Chicago at the moment (for school, normally I’m in Miami). Part of living in Chicago means having to use their public transportation. I’m not going to write a blog post about Chicago’s public transportation, that would probably take several pages of internet that I don’t have.

What I’m going to be talking about is escalators, and by association elevators, and the pricks who ride them. When I see an escalator, I see (no frontin’) the word “CONVENIENCE” labeled right over it. Escalators are meant to stand on and they push you upwards (or downwards) free of charge, that is to say you don’t have to do any actual exercise to get up.

This notion, however, is far gone to some people. When people see escalators, they don’t see something that depicts laziness and convenience, they see rocket steps. When they get on an escalator, they shoot up those goddamn stairs as if their life depended on it. Stairs? Fuck stairs, escalators are super stairs motherfucker. They want to incorporate the convenience of escalators with the exercise of stairs.

This is something I can get on board with. If you do this, by all means keeping rocketing up those stairs. Me? That isn’t my scene. When I see an escalator, I stand still and let it glide me to the heavens (also known as the end destination of the escalator).

So you might be asking (you’re definitely asking this, disputing me is useless I can read your mind), “What happens when these two views of escalator usage clash?” I’ll tell you what happens; what happens is I get Jason Fucking Stavin’ Angry. When I’m standing on an escalator and letting it just take its course while I think of stomping puppies, I don’t want to hear some jackass behind me going, “GOD WALK UP THE ESCALATOR STEPS PLEASE SOME OF US ARE IN A HURRY.”

Some of us (mainly me) are not in hurry motherfucker, so I could give two shits about your goddamn hurry.

The same thing happens to me with elevators. If you haven’t figured it out (actually, if you really haven’t maybe you should stop reading cause you’re fucking stupid) I’m a lazy person. So if I want to get to the 2nd floor, and I am given an elevator to use; I’m going to use the elevator. It’s encouraged that I use the stairs, but it’s also encouraged that I don’t kick puppies and you don’t see me not doing that (For what it is worth, I don’t actually kick or stomp puppies, unless they aren’t barking or playing ball).

I will get in that elevator, I will hit the number 2, and I will get off and say “fuck ya’ll” if you give me a dirty look. Alternately, I’ll get my ass kicked by angry turbo stair users.

Now See Here Whippahsnappah…

October 3rd, 2009 by DanielRGT

Whippersnapper is a word commonly used by old people to refer to young people that are, purportedly, “on their lawn” or “ruining their begonias.” Why am I even telling you this? Because yesterday, while in my dorm, I got into a row with a guy (I’m a college student, so of course he is in fact a college student as well). The row had nothing to do with anything important, I simply got the last bag of chips that he wanted.

Anyway, short story even shorter, he called me a faggot. I’m used to this as I call people faggots all the time, so it’s not hard to imagine what being called one is like. I told him that I’m sorry but I got there first, blah blah blah, I was super polite.

He then said this exact phrase, and I assure you I am not shitting you:

“Stupid whippahsnappahs taking my fuckin’ bags uh’ chips.”

I was in disbelief because I couldn’t really believe he called me a whippersnapper. Nobody in their right mind calls another fellow college student a whippersnapper. Hell, the whippersnapper phase is making its way out for old people even. If you were to go to an old person and say the word whippersnapper they would most definitely say, “Whippersnapper? What are you some sort of faggot (fagget)?”

This also verifies my theory that old people are getting cooler and cooler as time passes.

EVO Finals, Fighting Games, and Me

July 22nd, 2009 by DanielRGT

So I wasn’t at Evolution 2009, but goddamn every particle of me wanted to be there. I was at Evolution 2008 which was probably one of the greatest things I’ve ever been to, and I only know that Evolution 2009 would’ve topped it easily. I’m personally pissed that I wasn’t able to go, but hey when you don’t have enough money there’s not much you can do other than suck dick (I didn’t do that in case you were wondering, it’s pretty much just your only option unfortunately).

My friend Andres (nothingxs) qualified out of his HD Remix brackets in order to make the semi-finals for it, which is a first for him and I’m really happy to hear that he got out of the pool especially in winners. Unfortunately, he had to play Lag Fighter HD Remix and ended up losing after that. It sucks, but shit like that happens.

Quite honestly, EVO always inspires me to become a better player and I really feel like I want to work hard at the games and get good enough to be at least slightly known. Odds are that won’t happen for awhile though, but as long as it happens one day I’ll be happy.

Speaking of EVO, the final match (and the whole tournament for that matter) between Justin Wong and Daigo Umehara were hype as shit. Justin Wong picked Abel against Daigo’s Ryu, and unfortunately lost every time (Daigo ended up knocking Justin to losers this way). Then, when Justin climbed through losers and got into the Grand Finals he picked Abel for a round, lost, and picked Balrog (Boxer). As soon as I saw that he picked boxer, I knew there were going to be some hype matches. Justin’s Rog was on point, and gave Daigo a ton of trouble for what would be the hypest grand finals for any game I’ve ever fucking seen.

Also, no joke, EVO cured my acne. That’s whats up bitches.

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