Happy trails, Brian McCann

It seems like it was just yesterday, when Brian McCann hit a three-run home run off of Roger Clemens in the playoffs.  And in the metaphorical tomorrow when we refer to next year, the 2014 season, Brian McCann will no longer be a member of the Atlanta Braves, but the New York Yankees, who have historically been known to gobble up players of the highest talents simply because they can afford to.

Contrary to the popular notion that “everyone hates the Yankees,” I actually don’t.  Sure, it’s sometimes frustrating to hear how the rich keep getting richer, whenever the Yankees secure the services of yet another highly talented free agent, but the fact of the matter is that in spite of their organization’s propensity to believe that championships are acquired by amassing the most talent, regardless of how much it may cost, the Yankees are just as subject to the crap shoot of winning baseball championships as would be teams with far lesser payrolls, like the Oakland A’s, the Tampa Bay Rays, and the Atlanta Braves.  They’ve won just one championship since the start of the millennium.

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Cursive is being phased out?

According to this story, cursive handwriting is being phased out of educational standards, with the constant evolution of technology. Some states are fighting for cursive to be retained and/or brought back, for those whom have already deemed it unnecessary for the children of tomorrow to learn.

Personally, in one hand I’m not the least bit surprised that this is the current state of penmanship. Technology is advancing so steadily, and hardly anyone writes with a pen and paper in general anyone, much less write in cursive. But at the same time, there’s that sentimental, nostalgic part of me that is melancholy towards the notion of change and the idea that things that I grew up learning and utilizing are being phased out now and for the future.

Overall, I don’t think it’s a good idea for cursive to be dropped; it’s not a necessary skill in the future per say, but for historical educational purposes, it’s nice to at least be able to read it, even if it cannot be written. One defender of cursive writing says this one poignant point:

“The Constitution of the United States is written in cursive. Think about that,”

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I bought a Victrola

It’s technically a replica that doesn’t actually play music, but the point remains, I still bought a victrola. I found it cheap on Craigslist completely on a whim, from someone who didn’t live far from where I worked, and I decided that I wanted it. I like the way they look, and I’m a fan of vintage-era stuff like victrolas, and frankly, I think it’s cool to be able to have a victrola on display in my house now.

Okay, and I’ll admit that my infatuation with Mafia Jinx and her flapper dance had something to do with this spontaneous purchase. A little something. Just a little.

So who wants to dress up as, and be my flapper Jinx to take pictures with an actual victrola prop?

Not going to lie, I’m actually really pleased with this impulse buy. Even as replicas, they still sell for like upwards of $150+ on Amazon or eBay.

It makes me happy every time I turn around and see it’s big ass gold horn. I’m not entirely sure what I’m really going to do with it other than have it as a prop for pictures and for it to sit there and look cool, but I’m still glad I have it.

It’s not really my place

But man, are things rough, surrounding me.  I can handle unfortunate circumstances headed in my direction; sure there might be some poorly-veiled cries for an ear, and/or some whiny sound brog posts that might emerge here from time to time.  However, there’s nothing but a similar feeling of helplessness when bad things happen to loved ones and closest confidants, and there’s little to really do to help them other than be present and supportive.

We all want to be heroes in times of need, but in most ordinary cases of unfortunate events, there’s really not much that could be done, other than the dreadful waiting game.  And having time to think, reflect and conjure up worst-case scenarios is about the last thing anyone ever really wants.  Still, the martyr complex in me would rather undertake bad things happening to me, than to see it heaped in droves onto those I care about the most.

As I said, it’s not really my place, but the fact of the matter is that there is a residual effect on me, not that there’s anything about this that is directly about me in the first place.  I’m just very weary and exasperated with the way things are going, and feeling like there’s not a whole lot I can do to help make problems resolve and go away.  It’s cliche to say that life is unfair, but when you see negative things happen to people that don’t deserve them, it really makes you wonder just how exactly the world seems to want to operate.

I thought about writing a condensed version of this on Facebook or something, but I didn’t want to be accused of fishing for attention or vaguebooking or whatever the fuck people say to agitate me when I don’t want to hear it.  But on my brog, it’s fair game, and since hardly anyone but people that are a little more interested in my opinions reads it in the first place, I feel it’s more appropriate to elaborate what’s going on in my head during these unwelcome trying times.

Video game health restoration, in general

After I finished writing about herbs and health restoration in Resident Evil in a previous post, my mind drifted off like “yeah, herbs are so unorthodox and illogical, unlike health items in other video games wait”

And so I began to think about health items in varying other games, and then inappropriately applying them with real world logic. Doing such basically takes a lot of fun and imagination out of them in one regard, but in another regard, creates a whole lot of funny theoreticals and imagery.

Like take for example, food. Food is pretty much one of the most commonly used things designated as a health restoration item in a wide expanse of video game genres. It’s mostly because food is awesome, and for all living creatures, a necessary staple for living. But apply some real world logic to how food is presented in video games, and then it makes absolutely no sense at all. If anything, eating food amidst the throes of combat should probably be considered detrimental in the big picture.

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Resident Evil and herb application: can we get some consistency?

I’m not entirely sure what brought on this train of thought, but I was thinking about the Resident Evil series.  Namely the fact that aside from first aid sprays being a way of replenishing health, there are medicinal herbs scattered throughout the fast locations throughout the series.

Seriously, if you apply the growth of herbs to the real world, then herbs are pretty much the most versatile plants on the planet, as they’re able to grow/exist in not just Raccoon City, but as well as in the Spanish countryside, Chinese ghettos, African shantytowns, war-torn Eastern Europe, as well as extreme climates such as Antarctica and an active volcano.  Oh, and pretty much 2,000 leagues under the sea as well.

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Has there ever been a story of such eternal ownage worse than Michael Jordan over Patrick Ewing?

I’m reading this article where Michael Jordan is asked if he can name the greatest dunk of his career. Keep in mind that in spite of the two fake retirements, Michael Jordan played in over 1,000 games over 13 NBA seasons, which is the equivalent of 41,000 minutes or 683 hours and is arguably the most prolific scorer in his generation. That’s a whole lot of basketball played, a massive number of points scored, and most definitely a whole lot of dunks thrown down. You’d have to think ol’ MJ would have to stop and think for a moment about what his greatest dunk was.

Nope. Apparently, MJ has thought about it a lot throughout his life, so he has an answer prepared for when there is any time people want to know what he thinks his greatest dunk was.

He zeroes right back to 1991 in the Eastern Conference finals or semi-finals, where it was the Bulls and Knicks, and declares this particular dunk, the greatest dunk in his entire career.

The dunk was on Patrick Ewing, who has never been a stranger to the concept of getting dunked on, but the bottom line is that throughout his entire basketball career, nobody has tormented him and continues to torment him like Michael Jordan does. There’s not even appropriate words to describe it; Patrick Ewing is Michael Jordan’s bitch; Michael Jordan owns Patrick Ewing.

The subject is a serious question; has there ever been a case of one guy owning another guy as long as Jordan has owned Ewing?

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