That is all.
That is all.
Okay, it’s an old one but oh my god still funny.
Jesus fucking christ. Flagged on b3ta last week;
Oh yeah. I’m not sure what I think of either of them, but apparently I’m sufficiently desympathised to find it absolutely bloody hilarious.
In a month in which I’ve posted no, count them, NO articles, my readership has skyrocketed to a massive 33 views per day. What’s the secret?
I’ve had a massive influx of searches for “Doctor Manhattan Blue Penis”, presumably coinciding with the release of Watchmen on DVD.
So I’d just like to add: PENIS PENIS PENIS MICHAEL JACKSON MEMORIAL DISCOGRAPHY PENIS.
That should do it.
I’ve been playing with Google Insight today. True to its name, it held a few surprises for me.
Not least that the fourth most popular Google in the UK this week was “google”. Come on, country. Get your act together. I’m not the most organised, or even conscious person, but I’ve never asked someone to their face where they are. I suppose it’s the next logical step in windowlickery from hunting for my glasses when they’re on my head – so long, sunday afternoon, I’ll never see you again – but on a national scale I can’t help but feel this is unacceptable.
Even more depressing is that seventh worldwide rising search is Jade Goody. The press blitz of coverage of the “tragic” pseudo-celebrity was inevitable, and even the fact that the usually level-headed Guardian gave it front-page reportage stimulated little more than a stifled groan. The press can’t account for this kind of showing though. There’s only one logical conclusion; people of the world are actively searching for news on… her. I’m not going to be overly unkind here. A woman is dead, and her genuine family and friends are grieving. They should stop reading here.
Jade exemplified a subculture of consumers who want nothing more than fame and attention, at the expense of dignity, privacy and wellbeing. It’s worrying that so many people desire it so badly (he said, typing into his unpaid weblog), but ultimately understandable compared to the mass hysteria and schadenfreude that possess those who follow them. My own theory is that these reality stars give the public the opportunity to feel superior to some of these glamourous characters, and illustrate that it could really be anybody – and in being the everywoman, Jade excelled.
Her eulogy and tribute is loud in the press this week, not so much on the lips of the people in my own experience. Maybe this unequal treatment is because her presence in the zeitgeist was the pure result of the media and PR insisting she was interesting, rather than genuine relavence. I’d like to believe that the british tabloids felt some twinge of regret at the way they publically treated a human being, though she was nowhere near the least deserving or worst treated of the victims of ravenous and unscrupulous journalists. I’m fairly certain though that they were just bleeding the last column inches from her life. Jade Goody lived to be a celebrity, and died famous. Now let’s all move on, and read a little less Heat magazine.
Okay, it’s not a stream. Titles are harder than they look. I have listened to some good mashups and put them in a list with a number of the things in the title, because people like to know how many things they are going to read before they read them.
The Ghost That Feeds
Nine Inch Nails vs Ray Parker Jr.
The best mashup of either The Hand that Feeds or Ghostbusters I’ve ever heard. Unfortunately vanished from where I got it from, you can allegedly still download it from the NIN remix page, linked from Nathan Chase’s blog. God bless you, Reznor.
I’m conflicted about tagging this as a game review. Because I’m not completely sure that’s what Puzzle Quest is.
It masquerades as a simple Popcap-esque brainteaser, a little casual gaming sundae laced with sprinklings of RPG-element crack to drag you in. Any friend of mine will tell you I’m a total slug for RPG games, and I do love a good DS-based casual puzzler (plus god knows I loves me some crack). So what’s the beef bringing the savoury spoilage to my delicious ice cream metaphor?
Well, it’s a tasty treat, but critically, it’s by no means a fair one. It repeatedly occurs that I’m grinding my opponent into dust only for the random tiles replenishing the board to trigger some chance hurricane of destruction that maxes out the enemy’s special move gauges, gives the cunt seventeen turns and I lose my shields. This isn’t a bloody game, it’s a device by which I repeatedly provide my opponent a stick with which to batter me. It’s like playing a game of football where every five minutes the referee declares the opposition striker gets to kick you full-on in the balls, and you’re not allowed to guard.
This is repeated ad infinitum, until I’m developing the gaming equivalent of battered wife syndrome. Knowing that any given move could cause the game to smack the shit out of me, I’m paranoid about making any move. My stylus shakes indecisively over the game board, obsessive about preempting the vicious onslaught – but if I don’t choose, I don’t get beaten, right? On some level I recognise that at some point playing Puzzle Quest I have fun, but I consistently come to the conclusion that the only winning move is to put the DS down and make myself a sandwich. Which feels like cheating, because a sandwich is a winner every time.
The most annoying thing about these games is not that they’re bad. Rubbing dog shit around inside my underpants doesn’t make my life a misery – because lacking any incentive, I just don’t do it. Like an abusive spouse though, the good times with Puzzle Quest are good. That glorious weekend at the beach. The time it got me a Mining Laser for valentine’s day. But then, the dinner’s not on the table, and I’m getting my face battered with a sock full of loose change. By which I mean mine tiles and a damage multiplier.
So is Puzzle Quest a good game? Yeah, I suppose it is, in the same way (to make the standard internet comparison) Hitler must have been a charmer – because there’s no way he’d have got those minorities gassed if he’d scrimped on the gameplay.
Or something like that. Anyway, play it for a bit, and tear your own fucking hair out. You don’t need me to tell you this shit.