That’s how they do it out in Modesto, California

At first glance, this looks like a photograph taken inside of any old liquor store.  Jack Daniels, various vodkas, whiskeys and wines available, and then entire aisles dedicated to beer.

This is actually inside of a CVS, in Modesto, California.  A CVS drugstore.

So upon entering this CVS in Modesto, California, it’s the same kind of stuff you’d find at any other CVS across the country.  Over the counter drugs, a pharmacy, lots of toiletries, cosmetics, cheap Taiwan-made knock-off toys, magazines, candy and a small variety of snacks and drinks.  But then you take a sharp right, and then BAM it’s a full-fledged liquor store.

And there’s no segue into it, either.  It’s the same carpeting, shelving and bright, fluorescent lighting.  It’s like cruising the aisles of target and going from baby clothing, sporting goods, sex toys.

The funniest thing is that there really were liquors and whiskeys that were available for discounts if you scanned your CVS Extra Care card.

Sonny Chiba approves, since he loves CVS.

Guess which player Alabamans love?

Brad Coon is a player on the Montgomery Biscuits, and people really love to cheer for him.

The strange thing is that Brad Coon is not a supremely talented baseball player.  Brad Coon is 29-years old, and in his seventh year playing exclusively minor league baseball.  The Montgomery Biscuits are a AA-level minor league team, and the typical age for AA players with legitimate futures is typically anywhere from 20-23 years old.  In years prior, Brad Coon played for AAA-level affiliates for the Angels, Dodgers and Nationals, but upon landing with the Rays, they assigned him to AA.

So Brad Coon is considered way old for his level of competition, but his current statistics indicate that it’s fairly appropriate in terms of skill.  Which is another way of me saying that Brad Coon isn’t exactly the most talented baseball player in the world.

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A pet peeve

Say you’re driving down a very desolate, flat straight road out in the middle of nowhere.  You can see far ahead and far behind you for miles.  You’re also driving with a friend who is driving their own car.  For whatever reason, you wish to drive parallel to your friend, so you hop into the oncoming lane, and begin driving right next to your friend.

Eventually, in the distance you see a car coming.  What do you do?

Obviously, you let off the gas, and get back behind your friend, or space permitting, you apply the gas, and get in front.  Otherwise, you  will end up in a head-on collision, and probably someone ends up dead, or at least severely injured.

If the answer is so simple when it comes to driving cars, why is it so difficult for people to grasp when simply walking?

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What does this Korean kid have in common with Brian Urlacher?

They’re both professionals.

Obviously, I can’t use the term “athlete” for the professional gamer, because there’s absolutely nothing athletic about PC gaming.  No matter how much professional gaming tries to imbue physical statistics into gaming, like how fast a guy can click on a mouse.

I came across this Kotaku article, and going through it it set off a wide range of emotions and thoughts, and here I sit, brogging away about it.  It’s no secret to me these days that gaming is taken pretty seriously back in the Motherland, and even my parents have made the backhand remark that perhaps I should have gone somewhere with my own adolescent gaming habits, regardless of how hard they disapproved it back then.  But it’s gotten to the point in Korea, where I kind of look at how seriously it’s taken, and feel nothing but a wide range of negatively-connotative emotions.

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Unfortunate sequence of burnt out bulbs, right?

This can’t be a coincidence, right?  I don’t really believe that this is a matter of “IFT’s” bulbs all burning out at exactly the right time, as much as it has to be an attempt at a practical joke by whomever works at this store.

My first guess is that it’s whomever has the unfortunate duty of working the second shift at this place decided to do some passive-aggressive sabotage, by killing off the bulbs.  The owner(s), whom I guess don’t ever really see this place with the sun down, never will notice; everyone else, once the sun sets and the lights come on, are effectively granted permission to predictable exclaim that “they found the G-spot!”

Or, it’s some truly meta tactics employed by the business itself, and utilizing the seemingly innocuously coincidental inconvenience of burnt out bulbs to their advantage, and suckering people into stopping by, based on nothing but perverted curiosity.  Personally, I only pulled off to the side, snapped my picture, and ran off.  But as you can see, there is someone emerging from the place, so it could be that it actually works.

As much as I would loved to have said that I saw this in Alabama, given my last two Sundays spent out there, it’s actually here in Georgia.  The interesting and suspicious thing about it is that this photo was taken on a Sunday night; pretty much, in the God-fearing south, most businesses are closed by this time, if they even bothered to open at all on a Sunday.  Which piques my curiosity that it really might be possibility #2, since they might be trying to capitalize on the draw of a funny name and accommodate possible customers.  Also interesting is the fact that I’m pretty sure they don’t sell anything at all remotely sexual.  I always thought it was just a place for stereotypical black womens’ clothing.

I Am Legend, southern style

If you were to tell me that I Am Legend took place in Montgomery, Alabama, I would be inclined to believe you. This is a picture of downtown Montgomery, on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and there isn’t a single soul in sight. I am literally standing in the middle of the street, with no fear at all of any oncoming cars. Because there simply are none. I really imagined that this is what Robert Neville felt like when wandering about in Los Angeles in the story, notating any dark and shady crevices in which vampires could be hiding in.

Apparently in the god-fearing south, and then deeper in, in Montgomery, they fear him just a little bit more, to the point where they go into complete hiding altogether on Sundays outright.

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Abby Wambach looks like the guy from Wanted

Everytime I see this commercial, I can’t help but think this.

I vaguely know the name Abby Wambach, because I look at enough sports websites on a regular basis for osmosis to eventually absorb, or maybe it was during the time when the whole world was fascinated with Hope Solo that some of her teammates names manage to float around or something, but I had no idea of what she actually looked like.  So I really had no idea that the “protagonist” of this Gatorade commercial was Abby Wambach until the descriptors in the YouTube video revealed such information.

But watching this commercial, I’m always thinking that Abby Wambach looks like the main character from Wanted.  That crappy movie which also had Angelina Jolie and Morgan Freeman, where the concept of curving and hooking bullets came from, which I’ll occasionally rage-complain/reference while playing L4D, when I’m picked off around a corner, miraculously.  But I mean, come on – look at the picture; they totally look alike.  The swimmingly-green eyes, the Penguin-like hook nose, and even the furrowing of the brow, in intense agitation.

So now that the comparison is complete, it’s deduced that the guy from Wanted apparently plays professional women’s soccer when not making shitty movies.  Ironically what he does off-screen is reminiscent of the Rodney Dangerfield flick, Ladybugs, which focused around a dude playing soccer on a girls’ team.  And much like the character he played in Wanted was a gigantic pussy, the guy from Wanted waits until his defender is fatigued and feebly weak before exploiting it for the win.  Granted, I’m not above accepting wins no matter how they come, but ideally, nothing is more gratifying than beating an opponent when they’re at their best, not when they’re on their last legs.

But whatever – Wanted was a shitty movie anyway, and I stopped drinking Gatorade for the most part.  Too much fucking sodium.