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Monday, April 19, 2010

Episode 38: Four Days In Hell

I actually got my hands on the PSP game Dante's Inferno recently and let me tell ya something. If you're a God of War fan, you'll love this game.

Each level literally takes you down the path of Dante Alighieri's work known as The Divine Comedy but only the first part. See Alighieri's work focused on three parts; The Inferno, Purgatory and Paradise.

For the name's sake, we'll just go with the Inferno.

I couldn't help but think that it's a sad day for the afterworld when you take Death's Scythe and own his stupid ass with it. I mean, can you imagine what it would be like for Sonic: The Hedgehog to have died only to face Death, kill him off and then run through whatever afterlife a hedgehog goes through? It would be a videogame that never ends. It would be awesome.

That's sorta like dying in a puddle of your own blood and, just as you're about to go, you wrap your hand around Death's throat and start laughing maniacally while violently shaking back and forth rapidly.

I don't know about you but I got a chubby outta that. Way I had it figured, there are only two certainties in life...death and taxes. Well, when you kill Death with his own weapon, that pretty much gives you every right to tell the tax man to get fucked doesn't it?

Did I say chubby? Nah, Meet Woodrow! Boioioioioioioioinnnnng!

Next, you go on your descent into the various circles of Hell. There's Limbo, where the unbaptized dwell and your guide, Virgil the poet will inform you of the one thing you're going to have a huge problem with...babies.

Yep, babies with bladed arms and shit. This game just went from awesome to fucking bizarre. Now, here's the thing you should know outright. You don't just go through Hell ripping and shredding. You have levels of abilities to buy and there's only one way to do it...souls of the departed. Yeah, so you can either choose to punish or absolve those you meet in Hell thus controlling the morality of the game and how many souls you receive to spend on those abilities. In Hell, you get more flies with honey than with vinegar.

So then, it's deeper into Hell with the level known as Lust. This is an interesting one because it's where you start meeting shades...famous people sent to Hell for what they've done and again...absolve or condemn...choice is yours.

Throughout the game you climb craggy cliffs, have to figure out puzzles, find keys and pathways, fight people you knew when you were "alive" and save your girl, Beatrice, from Lucifer. Yeah, she kinda ended up with him while you were out in the crusades...look, play the damn game if you want the backstory.

Through the levels you'll battle Minotaurs, more babies, heretic priests and winged pests as well as Death Jr. s ....lots of them all in a heated journey ever deeper into the pit of this shithole until you finally reach past all the lakes of boiling blood, serpents that want to eat you, waterfalls of lava and walls of damned reaching out for you as you use them to climb around (I'm not kidding) and then...the final circle. Treachery, they calls it.

Unlike what most would think, this level is covered in ice. This means you're going to be doing a lot of sliding around. Lots of ground will break out from under you and you'll have to really be careful.

Look, I don't want to be careful and don't you find it ironic that you have killed the Angel of Death with his own scythe but now you can perish in a lake of boiling blood? Something wrong with that picture? Yeah, I thought so.

So anyway, you finally reach Lucifer, and let me tell you...what a little fucking pussy he turned out to be! I'd have rather taken on some lowlife jobber villain like Dr. Robotnik! After kicking his ass with my spiritual Pimp Hand the first time, all he could do was whine about how God gave him a screwjob to rival the one Bret Hart had been given in Montreal over 13 years ago. Then I had to kick his ass again only to find he'd been cast back into ice and trapped there.

Don't get me wrong, I had a lotta fun with this game, it was one of my faves but look, Lucifer talked much shit about taking my girl. If that were real, I'd have whooped his shady ass in a way that would make God take pity on him. I'd have issued an ass-kicking that would make Chuck Norris go, "Dude...was that really necessary?" For me, this game was less about actually winning and seeing some cutscenes...this was about slaying personal demons and leaving them where they needed to be.

The ending of the game hinted at a sequel...can't wait for that one. Probably a romp through Purgatory but I doubt it will be as awesome. Only time will tell.

Now, to the makers, I have but one request. No more of the timed swinging stages. I was born and bred to rip and shred...or absolve them but I'm not a fucking monkey, okay. No banana at the end for me? Okay then lose the Tarzan schtick. Climbing? Fine. Puzzle environments? Cool but no more of the ground falling away while I have to time that jump so I can swing through the fuckin' air, okay? Normally, if I'm playing a game it's to turn my brain off for a few so it doesn't pop and start pissing others off. It's downtime and I don't want to be stressed that I'm gonna have to start all over if I don't time that jump combo like Octo-Mom plans her parenthood.

Considering that it only took me four days of intensive playing to leave Hell wishing it hadn't heard my name, I traded it in at my local GameStop for a buncha movies and Metal Gear Solid Portable Ops.
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Monday, April 12, 2010

Episode 37: Before You Realize It, It's Gone...

On April 7, 2009, I moved away from Louisiana. I left everything that I knew, everything with which I was comfortable, everything which was convenient, everything that made me miserable and everyone that I knew and cared about. I left behind a lot of what I worked for. What I left behind wasn't much but it was mine. There was no doubt that I had worked my ass off for every bit of it.

I'm not much of a gambling man but I decided it was time to actually do a little. I didn't go to the boats though. I didn't roll up into the casinos with a gigantic wad of cash and start playing the blackjack tables or the slots. No, I decided that I'd waited around long enough. I'd done what everyone else thought I should do. I'd done what everyone else thought was right and safe. I'd never once done what I wanted to do. I pissed away every day since I was 22 years old because I thought that I needed to stick with what was safe. Everyone else had this fear of failure...no, I shouldn't say that. Everyone else instilled THEIR fear of failure in ME. I've experienced failure in some things, success in others. Maybe that's the story of everyone's life at different points. I won't hide that it was mine.

When I moved, I was as scared as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rotating gears. I had all those "what ifs" running through my head and not a goddamned one of them was mine. It pissed me off. As much as I loved what few friends I had and my family, many of them seemed bound and determined to keep me in a place I knew I didn't belong. Maybe I have the right mentality for a small town. Maybe I do have some simple values but what I also have is this deep desire to get out there and accomplish something. The way I had it figured, my 20s were over and, if I didn't do it, no one else was going to do it for me and I'd never do it. I've beaten smoking. I've beaten people's ridicule (more on that later) and I've beaten all of the odds put against me at getting here.

I got here on April 9, 2009 and you had best believe that that road was long, hard and unforgiving. I laid that hammer down and never looked back.

Speaking of roads, it's now April 12, 2010. Am I where I want to be? Was it everything I'd hoped for? Well...not quite. I can say that I'm not miserable. I can say that when I wake up and go for my morning walk, seeing all the cherry blossoms and the things that people plant and keep up really makes getting up worth it. I can say that I've met some of the rudest people and some of the kindest people here. For every rude, knuckle-dragging, mouth-breather, there's always someone happy that I'm here. For every person who laughed at some weird one-off idea in Louisiana, four people up here want to know how they can help further it here. I can say all of that. The road has been hard. It's been rough. It hasn't been easy. Then again, what good thing is ever easy?

I can honestly say that there were days that I thought I'd go under tomorrow. There were days where I knew I couldn't live with myself if I didn't extend a helping hand to someone. I wouldn't be able to look in the mirror and like who I am if I just didn't go for it. Some days, it didn't pay to get out of bed. Some days, there was nothing I'd rather do but get out there in the one thing that would blister the hell out of me and normally send me packing ass back indoors...daylight.

It's hard for me to even believe how little of it exists here during the winter. By four-thirty in the afternoon, it's gone and night pretty much makes it's presence known.

Here, I've shared a family's triumph and I've shared in their grief. Mom, Pop, if you're reading this then I know that what I believe is confirmed and I want you to know, I still miss you both.

And that's the other thing...the biggest thing. This family has a tendency of taking in people but more importantly than that, this family also has a tendency to take care of those they take in. It doesn't stop at, "Okay, you're one of us."

I'd like to thank every one of you who supported this move individually but my greatest fear is that I'll forget someone and I don't want anyone's feelings hurt but all of you, you know who you are...thank you so much. Without you, I don't know how the hell I'd have done it.

I have to thank Anne Marie, someone I've only ever met on paper. A lot of support and cheerleading came from a place that I don't even want to imagine. It's probably one of the darkest places on earth and for someone to throw an energy that positive my way...I can't thank you enough. But damn right, I'll spend a lot of time trying.

To Stu, man, I still remember you and I loitering outside of a Circle K when I was a young punk kid verbally abusing all the drunks on Saturday Night, keeping the clerks up at night. Without your encouragement, I probably wouldn't have some of the rather unique perspectives on life that I do now.

Justin, I gotta tell ya, you showed me one thing that's huge...if I fail, I let no one down but myself but if I just lay down and die...then it's all on me and that really does hurt the most. I can't thank you enough for reviving that level of fear of THAT sort of failure.

To my family back in Louisiana. I'd have taken you with me if I could. I'd have happily left behind EVERY material thing I'd ever worked for if you had just come with me. I know that you bug the hell out of me at times. I know that you make me nuts when I really don't feel I need it but that's what family does, I suppose. Without it, we wouldn't even know what the hell else to do with each other.

To all my friends out there, Mikey, Lenny (Cap'n!), Ron, Linda, Biggie, Sammy, Paul, Mark, Angie, Herbert and all of the other people I had the pleasure of working with over the past eight years plus. I've never met anyone like you guys. I probably never will again. I gotta say that the times we worked together, fought together, cut our teeth together, hell those were scars I don't mind bearing. They're stories I don't mind telling. The best part is I'm glad that I got to work with characters instead of just people. I got to hang out with folks that no one could make up if they tried. Sometimes truth was stranger than fiction but most times, it was better than anything I could have read, watched or listened to. Without you guys, I wouldn't have been well-rounded by that series of experiences.

To Lycan and Zeph, thanks for just plain being there. I know at my worst periods, nothing could scare you two away. I can't put into words how much that meant to me and I'll spend the rest of my life trying to figure that out.

To Pet and Bara, had it not been for you two, I wouldn't have believed that this type of arrangement was even possible. If not for watching how you two interacted, I probably wouldn't have attempted it myself.

Finally, to anyone else who reads this blog and supported me and my decisions, who listened to me rant, rave and carry on like some weirdo at times. Forgive me, folks, it's 11:49pm and I'm about to go to bed. I'm not the most brilliant guy at times but give yourself a round of applause and do a little dance. Celebrate because you had a hand in this too.

Now, this is where I don't mention names because I don't want my Thank You List getting dwarfed.

For all those who thought that I'd just be back in a month or two, you thought I wouldn't make it, tried to scare me out of it, told me that I'd just end up failing...you get the idea. I've earned the right to say what my heroes say ...I've Got TWO WORDS FOR YA!!!!

SUCK IT!

Now that that's over, there is one question that's been on a lot of minds. I still talk to some of you via comments to your blogs, email, IM when I can get on, Blackberry and even here in my immediate vicinity and one subject keeps coming up...will I do the show again?

Well, that's still hard to say. Scheduling has a lot to do with it and everyone knows I like the instant gratification that comes with live webcasting. Now would even be a great time to do it because if I were on ShoutCast again, I could be streamed to your phones, patched in through your car stereos...yep, mobility is no longer an issue with Internet Radio. It's, in fact, commercially viable now. Which leaves podcasting, since my schedule is far too erratic for live webcasting. That, I could do.

The biggest question remains...will I ever do The Genocydal Empyre again? The answer is a resounding "No."

The Empyre has fallen. Brought down by mine own hand. It's dead and buried and that is exactly where it should stay. What I started in my 20s can't be maintained in my 30s and shouldn't be. By the time we ended it, we had an alien for a mascot. That should have been a huge clue that it wasn't going in the direction I'd originally dreamed for it. I'll be the first to admit, the soundboards were pretty funny and I'd still keep those around.

No, it would have to be something different. We could take all the stuff you love and build something new with it but it's going to be awhile. I'm not sure even IF I want to do it again just yet. Time will tell. If a new show does come up, best believe the music will still be loud and hard, the topics will be discussed and my opinions will still be as blistering and unwavering unless I change them. Until then, only time will tell.

Before I realized it, a year just blew past me but there is one person I haven't thanked yet...well, make that two.

First, thank you Misty. If it hadn't been for you, I'm not sure that I would have had a goal and I'd have spent the rest of my life doing some stupid "coulda, shoulda, woulda" bullshit. Thanks to you, I'll never think that. I already know what the outcome would have been if I had stayed in Louisiana. I'd be a pile of potential in a pool of piss. I know that, you knew that and I'm glad you took a chance on me when no one else did.

Now, the last one I have to thank...this isn't going to be popular but I want everyone reading this to ask themselves when that's ever stopped me before. I really don't do much talking about what goes on beneath the surface, spiritually speaking. I've run one end of the gamut to the other. Sometimes it's been one extreme to the next but the end result is always the same.

Thank you to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Without you, I know full well I wouldn't be alive today. I wouldn't have made it through the tough times. Maybe I don't know how to formally go about the praying thing these days but I do my best. Thank you always for thinking about me, I'm alive and doing fine.

"I used to dream about
the life I'm living now
I know that there's no doubt
I made it! I made it!"

-Kevin Rudolph "I Made It"
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Thursday, April 01, 2010

Episode 36: Thanks For The Memories

WrestleMania 26.

The main event was set to start. The most anticipated match of the Millennium. Shawn Michaels vs. The Undertaker. One. Last. Time.

Shawn came out dancing as usual, sorta reminiscent of the old entrances we'd come to know and love. Then, everything went dark and that funeral dirge sounded. The Undertaker had come up through the floor of the stage and was ready to make his way down the ramp. Everything was washed in the color blue. It was the only light in the packed stadium. When Undertaker was in the ring and shed his robe, he and Shawn stood face to face and Shawn taunted him. The open act of defiance sparked WWIII, Judgment Day, Armageddon and Hell Unleashed all rolled into one thermonuclear event that would threaten to shred the Universe. Heaven and Hell were about to collide in a contest that would make even Chuck Norris say, "Whoa, hey...that's fucked up!"

Undertaker and Shawn traded blows, threw each other into corners, over ropes, into ringposts and nowhere was safe. At some point early in the match, The Undertaker botched a landing and screwed his knee up. Shawn, ever the opportunist, put the screws to the weakened knee.

Something you have to understand about The Undertaker, they call him "The Dead Man" because he doesn't register pain like your or I do. This match was different. Shawn made that beast of a man scream and howl in agony. Still, true to his word, Undertaker opened the gates of Hell and unleashed pure unbridled fury. Shawn. Still. Kept. The. Pressure. On.

Damn Straight.

The most memorable maneuver included Shawn's moonsault off of one of the ropes from the ring apron and onto Undertaker's injured knee as he lay helpless on top of the Spanish Announcers' table, splintering it in the process. After Tombstone Piledrivers, Last Rides And Chokeslams, Undertaker finally managed to put Shawn away.

Multiple Sadness.

Everybody knows that the fight is over...everybody knows the good guys lost.

Even I couldn't believe it. I'd purposefully stayed the hell away from all the backstage news sites because I didn't want to know the end until the damn match ended. Now, it was over and the arena was awash in blue light again with an exhausted Undertaker barely able to stand and celebrate his victory and his now 18-0 continued undefeated streak. Shawn lay there, probably unaware of what had just happened.

Unaware, that is, until Undertaker helped him up, shook his hand, thanked him and made his exit. Shawn's very sad walk back up the ramp would begin and a farewell would begin. Not a farewell to just a man but to an era and a breed of showman that will probably never be seen again.

Monday night, Shawn said a tearful goodbye to all of us through chants of "Thank You Shawn" and "Please Don't Go" and even "One More Match." Undertaker even came out to tip his hat to Shawn and leave. Undertaker doesn't even tip his hat to the likes of Chuck Norris. You have to be something and someone to have Undertaker tip his hat to you.

So Shawn Michaels is now retired for a second time. Damn shame but he deserves it. Time to take that time off, enjoy the money and the family in the process.

Shawn, I know you think you owe your fans a word of gratitude but I say that's total bullshit. You don't owe us anything you haven't already given us. If anything, WE owe YOU a huge word of thanks.

Thank you for putting your well-being on the line for our entertainment.

Thank you for literally catering to pseudo-bloodthirsty masses in matches that were nowhere near WrestleMania status. Every night on Raw was like tuning into a WrestleMania for free.

Thank you for being the cocky and arrogant bastard you were and the determined individual you are. Without it, not one damn fan would have had any standard to which we could have aspired.

Thank you mostly, Shawn, for not just doing a job but making that job MEAN something. How many of us can go to work and say we love our jobs to the point of actually going all in and balls out for it. We should all be so lucky and thank you for showing us that not one of us ever has to settle.

Those are just a few of the biggest reasons I can possibly find for thanking you for the performances you put on out there. Now, go enjoy retirement. Go enjoy yourself and your family. Go out there and reach out to some of those former wrestlers that didn't have the storybook career. If anyone can do it, you can. They need you more than we do. We'll always have the memories of the cocky founder of D-Generation X.

One more thing, Shawn, for all those memories and the moments forever immortalized on YouTube, I have two words for ya...Thank You!