Top 5 Favorite Video Games and Controllers

This is an "application" that I constructed over the course of two days for a local video game store. The manager's instructions were simple: list your five favorite games and controllers. As you are about to see, I did far, far more than was asked...

My Top 5 Favorite Games of All Time:

5. Ninja Gaiden II: The Dark Sword of Chaos

This 1990 release represents the pinnacle of NES platforming to me. It is the quintessential product of an age in gaming that demanded memorization, timing and, to a certain degree, luck. Its punishing difficulty couldn't be surpassed by the haphazard button-mashing that is so commonplace today, but by the almost devout study of its level design and structure, sprinkled liberally with a heavy dose of patience.

While many often complain about its difficulty, I find this to be its most endearing trait. This was at a time before Achievements or Trophies, in which the actual achievement was simply beating the game. Hell, it was more than a game – just like the Tower of Lahja upon which Ryu prophetically looks in what is possibly the coolest video game still of all time, it was an obstacle to be conquered. It took decisive pattern recognition and a thorough understanding of the game's mechanics. Instances such as Stage 2-2's alternating snow currents and Stage 3-1's frequent absence of light added an impromptu depth that furthered the importance of this learning. In a way, the most important character wasn't the Ninja of the Dragon Sword, but the environment, the stages with which you become so intimately acquainted that their passing becomes a reflexive effort. I remember more about those annoying hawks and where they occur than exactly what the nefarious Ashtar's “plan” entailed (besides utilizing said hawks in ways that would probably provoke PETA into being a more deadly adversary than the titular warrior).

What also makes it stand out is its innovative use of cinematics which, in spite of their decidedly anime-esque aesthetic (I lost count of how many times “what the...” was indiscriminately spoken) add a narrative flair that was largely absent at the time in the medium. The levels were even broken into “Acts”. Admittedly, I didn't understand in the slightest what was going on, but I what I did understand was that ninjas were awesome. Perhaps even jawsome, to use the vernacular of the time.

Ninja Gaiden II taught me many things: patience, a sense of accomplishment and, most importantly, self-reliance. After all, you won't always have two ghost ninjas to help you through life's problems (unless you're really, really good – in which case you probably don't need them, anyway).

4. Shin Megami Tensei (series)

I picked up the first “real” U.S. release in the series, Nocturne, based upon its promised inclusion of Devil May Cry's Dante (1995's Virtual Boy release of Jack Bros. doesn't really count, seeing how the Virtual Boy itself doesn't really count). I had no knowledge of the series previous to this, aside from reviewers popularly touting it as “Pokémon with demons”. While it was an accurate assessment on a very base level, it was far from a fair one. Megaten is probably the most mature series I've ever played, not only because of its explicit use of adult themes and imagery (phallic symbols abound), but because of its extreme difficulty, unapologetic use and engagement of religious iconography, and reliance on player choice and consequence. It's not a series that sadistically punishes poor decisions – it merely makes the player take responsibility for them. These choices are present in both its narrative and its turn-based combat engine. In every entry (with the exclusion of 2005's Digital Devil Saga), even one deviation from a character's affiliated path (be it chaos, neutral, or law) could make the difference between saving the world and serving as the harbinger of its end. In SMT II, the player may even choose to confront YAHWEH, God Himself, resulting in the protagonist's damnation to an eternal cycle of excruciating death and rebirth for his heresy. If that's not ballsy of a developer, I don't know what is.

The combat engine, though not as dramatically, also relies heavily on consequence. Where in the aforementioned Pokémon (as well as most other JRPGs) the strategic use of elemental magic may exploit enemy weakness for additional damage, Megaten also rewards this with affording the player an extra turn (alternatively, a turn is taken away for hitting an enemy with its elemental resistance(s)). This simple yet crucial inclusion drastically affects the play style, forcing you to not only use common-sense tact, but to accommodate for the various, frequently unforeseen circumstances that you will face. You may be conclusively winning a battle, yet suddenly stumble and lose a turn, entirely reversing the encounter. Though improbable, it's not entirely impossible for a pixie to defeat Odin, the Father of Norse Gods (it's on my “to do” list).

That's another thing – you have to have a working knowledge of the demons that you encounter to have any success in defeating them. Thankfully, the demons are not only interesting on a stats basis, but on an aesthetic one, as well. Over 30% of my overall playtime is spent documenting these creatures, which range from fairies, like Atlus's very own mascot, Jack Frost, to religious deities, such as Lucifer. Many of these creatures are obtained through Megaten's “breeding” system, in which the endeavors of mad scientists and eerily stoic clergymen replace al naturale lovin' as the preferred form of making sweet little demon babies like Surt, Destroyer of Worlds (d'aww...).

It is also by far the most atmospheric series I've ever played. This is thanks to Shōji Meguro's scores, which range from haunting symphonies to piercing techno-pop, and Kazuma Kaneko's signature character designs and art direction. Their combined efforts give Megaten an identity unique not only to JRPGs, but to contemporary video game artistic design, as well.

Lastly, I am drawn to the sheer variety that each individual entry represents. While principle titles such as Nocturne and Strange Journey are turn-based, others experiment with genre, such as real-time action in the Devil Summoner sub-series, dating sim the Persona sub-series and tactical role-playing in 2009's Devil Survivor. There is a Megaten game for every role player's denomination.

The Shin Megami Tensei series is one that demands involvement, but with its innovative combat, engaging narratives, striking artistic design, and variety between games, it's easy to become utterly absorbed.

3. Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic

It's funny. Nowadays I will list this without a second thought as one of my most beloved titles, but I originally hated BioWare's 2003 epic. Again and again I would attempt to play it, but its D&D-based engine of combat was so radically foreign to my JRPG sensibilities that I would be automatically turned off and cast the game aside for another few months before a repeated attempt. Then, for some reason, it finally clicked. I was hooked.

Though its most notable and innovative features are regularly incorporated into western RPGs today, such as the developer's outstanding Mass Effect franchise, they were completely new to me. The dialogue menu interface added a dimension of personality and choice that allowed the player to control the story and character in unprecedented ways. Not only do evil acts like theft and murder have immediate consequence, but they directly affect character appearance, alignment and, most importantly, skill progression. Becoming a Sith would make your skin so cracked and pale that even Palpatine would blush, but it would also open up important Force abilities which would be unavailable to a Jedi (and vice versa). This alone is enough incentive to replay the game; exploring what could not have been with your first respective alignment.

My favorite part of the gameplay, aside from the paused tactical system, was becoming a Jedi or Sith. It would have been easy to simply give Force attributes to the character from the get-go, but you had to earn them through a system of progression that actually made you feel like an apprentice, even constructing your own lightsaber from scrap. It was a small, but ingenious mechanic that seamlessly contributed to my absorption into the game and its universe.

Then there's the story. It wasn't since Dark Empire that I took any vested interest in the EU. Regarding the track record of canonical fiction outside of the film series (and some of it within... I'm looking at you, Prequel Trilogy) it was understandable that I was skeptical, especially toward a plot that took place 4,000 “before the dark times, before the Empire”. However, it was more true to Lucas's opus than anything that had followed, demonstrating principles and elements such as the hero's journey, redemption, and the universal strife between good and evil that had made the films so popular and endearing to begin with. There were even amusing variations of the recurring character archetypes, such as the homicidal HK-47 in the role of the typically passive protocol droid. That guy kills me (and probably would, given the chance). The revelation that the protagonist was the former Dark Lord Revan was probably the most poignant moment ever in gaming narrative (take that, Aeris).

My one complaint about KotOR is Carth. I couldn't stand that guy. Just recently I discovered that his voice actor, Raphael Sbarge, also played Mass Effect's Kaiden Alenko, which solved an inexplicable puzzle of hatred that had lain dormant in me for two years. God, I hate them. Bunch of stuck up, half-witted, scruffy-looking Nerf herders.

2004's sequel, Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords, was a solid game in its own right, but Obsidian failed to surpass BioWare's original effort. I mean, come on; they could have at least given it a real ending. However, with the The Old Republic due out later this year, I'm optimistic about returning to form a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away... probably as a bounty hunter. Bounty hunters rock.

2. Star Fox 64

When this title barrel rolled into my life in 1997, I fell instantly in love. It was a herald to the return of true score-based, arcade rail-shooters in a time when 3D platforming was king. Played in short, sporadic sessions, it was incessantly rewarding without sacrificing depth or difficulty in the process.

There were a number of things that made it stand out, the first being its graphics. While I was awed (to a degree) by 1993 original's polygonal display, 64's Nova Bombed them right out of the water. The sound design was equally impressive, especially due to the extensive use of voice-over, which was relatively rare at the time. However, after listening to Slippy plead for help for the thousandth time, it's not hard to determine why. This was also the first game to incorporate the N64's Rumble Pak, though this was more of a novelty than a drastic innovation.

Another distinguishing feature was its level progression system, in which certain interplanetary paths could only be achieved through the fulfillment of tasks or quotas in the proceeding stage. For example, if you let Falco get shot up on Corneria (as he probably deserves), you're forced to fight Granga instead of the Attack Carrier and progress to Meteo instead of Sector Y (which has conspicuously Gundam-like monkey-bots and is totally awesome for it). I remember anxiously waiting during my first runs to see if I had achieved a coveted “MISSION ACCOMPLISHED” or a measly “MISSION COMPLETE”. Even if you received the former, there was always the lingering threat of being struck with the latter, forcing you to be on your toes and identify the various points of divergence, which exponentially increased the game's replay value.

There was also a welcome variety in combat and vehicle types. Some of my favorite sections in the game were those that involved the alternative “All-Range Mode”, allowing for intense dogfights with Star Fox's nemesis, Star Wolf. It's in these sequences that the player's clout is truly tested (along with the distance that an N64 controller may be thrown in frustration following the inevitable death after death). Additional vehicles in the Gray Fox's arsenal included the terrestrial Land Master and the aquatic Blue Marine, both of which added a dynamic edge to the typical aerial gameplay.

Star Fox 64 remains a paragon of incorporating classic gameplay with new technology, resulting in a timeless product. Too bad the sequels had the appeal of Pigma Dengar in lingerie.

1. Final Fantasy Tactics

While the inclusion of a Final Fantasy title in a “Top 5” list is far from unorthodox, the title itself is. Sure, I could take the easy route and indicate fan-favorite VII, or other hallmark entries such as IV or VI. After all, their prestige is well-earned. They're more than just great games – they're modern masterpieces of design, art, and storytelling. However, this is a list of my personal favorites, and thus I must list the one that had the most profound impact on me as an individual, not on the larger video game society.

1998's title was one that emerged to little ovation, eclipsed by the success of the former year's massively popular Final Fantasy VII. It could have been (and undoubtedly was) easily dismissed as a quaint experiment in tactical role-playing utilizing Square's flagship series. It was certainly nothing an 11-year-old boy would find of any interest with the likes of Ocarina of Time and Pokémon serving as competition. To be honest, I don't quite remember how I happened upon it in the first place. But I'll tell you one thing: I'm glad I did.

Final Fantasy Tactics was nothing short of a revelation to me. I was immediately enthralled by the plot, the art, the combat – everything. It was the first and since only instance in gaming where everything magically aligned to form a product that I would damn near dub “perfection”. Sure, it had its flaws, such as its infamously poor localization (I sincerely believed that I was attacking with “ice bracelets”) and it was derivative of Tactics Ogre, but I didn't care. It was golden to me, the crème de la crème of video game artistry.

Even as a youngster, I could immediately identify its plot as overtly Shakespearean in nature, including warring factions, political assassinations, and melodramatic asides. I was so utterly enamored with the script that I brought an excerpt of it to drama class to perform. Which reminds me; I'd like to retroactively apologize to Square-Enix's lawyers for this blatant copyright infringement, as well as the poor kids I tricked into capes with the promise of them becoming “cool”. I sincerely doubt that any of them had any major objections when I zealously exclaimed, “I GET TO BE DELITA!”

The art direction and character design stood in stark contrast to these dark narrative sensibilities. Simultaneously cute, yet elaborate, charming, and dignified, they were a foil to the game's more mature inclinations and mechanics. Even though every in-game action was executed by sprites on a tile board, I never felt disconnected from the plot, which is a huge testament to its artistic design. While including paramount characters, such as black mages and chocobos, Ivalice was a world uniquely its own without dependence on the broader Final Fantasy canon; thriving with its own history, mythos, and culture.

Aside from the implementation of strategic, tile-based combat, what stood out to me in gameplay was the ability to raise a small army of wizards and warriors that could be any of twenty classes. There were knights, ninja, samurai, dragoons – you name it. This customization system made me feel like a genuine, omnipotent commander of a fantasy army. I still fondly remember leveling all of my melee characters as ninja to unlock the ability to use two swords, which conveniently carried over to their original class (it's called “strategy”, not “cheating”). I would invest countless hours into building my teams to perfection, a labor of love that never even fell close to the threat of tedium that grinding commonly faces.

Today, there are numerous spin-offs and Tactics-related entries in the Final Fantasy saga, including Tactics Advance, Final Fantasy XII and its handheld sequel Revenant Wings – even a remake of the original with the added subtitle of The War of the Lions. However, there will never be one quite like the first. It was a unique culmination of fun and aesthetic that served as a principle sculptor of my identity as a gamer, as well as a person. Final Fantasy Tactics is, and will probably forever be, my favorite video game of all time.


Honorable Mentions (In No Particular Order):

Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney (series)

Who knew litigation could be so fun? This modern text-based adventure substitutes legal credibility for outlandish characters, convoluted plots, and ultra-dramatic courtroom “battles”, in which the day is won through wit, attention to detail, and the ability to scream “OBJECTION!” into your DS speaker (preferably in crowded public spaces). Insufferably charming, Phoenix and his menagerie of companions will always have a special place in my heart.

Guitar Hero I

Though many, many sequels, spin-offs, and cash-ins have followed (along with an equal number of lawsuits), 2005's original offering remains its strongest. When it hit the scene, it was an unprecedented marriage of hardware (RedOctane's innovative and reliable Gibson SG) and genre gaming. Not since DDR did a music game seem so intuitive and evoke such obsession. I remember initially playing it with the same daily fervor as if learning to play a real guitar, even boasting to friends that I was learning to play “real” guitar (a lie that I was quickly and unceremoniously caught in). With classic tunes, such as Black Sabbath's “Iron Man” and Ozzy Osbourne's “Bark at the Moon”, the soundtrack continues to prove the importance of quality over quantity (because really, having 90+ mediocre songs isn't better than having 47 good ones). Nowadays, I subscribe to Harmonix's Rock Band series, which I believe is the true successor to the original Guitar Hero effort. However, it will never be the same again. Thank you yet again, Activision.

Tekken 3

While most will opt to nominate Street Fighter II or one of its countless variants as the greatest fighting game ever made, I'm inclined to go against the grain and contend in favor of 1998's Tekken 3. While the PlayStation would remain the Sony staple for around three more years, I consider this, along with 2000's Final Fantasy IX, to be its swan song. With each successive Tekken installment there was a sense of progression, yet none as great as between 2 and 3. Boasting an impressively heightened graphics engine, a more responsive sidestep mechanic with increased emphasis on freedom of movement, numerous mini-games, and an immense roster of diverse characters, it was what coin jockeys like myself were pining for. I remember the first time I saw the cabinet at my local bowling alley. It was like a thousand Christmases concentrated in a single arcade box of delicious animated violence. Needless to say, I left it more beaten than Heihachi after his 20th fall off of a cliff.

Also, it had Yoshimitsu flaunting a mushroom-shaped head and lightsaber, which automatically qualifies it as Best Game of All Time.

No More Heroes (series)

Suda 51's irreverent No More Heroes franchise has three core strengths: its style, its substance, and the fact that it presents itself as nothing more than what it is – an ultraviolent exercise in social dissent. It's punk rock incarnate, hitting you fast and ferociously with unapologetic bloodbaths and “desperate struggles”, wrought by an otaku with a beam katana, an insatiable libido, and too much time on his hands. Aside from the stylist appeal in these games, they're just plain, unadulterated fun. I could cleave would-be vigilantes and sadists asunder for hours on-end. It's a very basic system that works on a primal level of fulfillment – a true successor to the long dormant (or otherwise disappointing) hack-and-slash genre.

Various Other Star Wars Titles Omitted for the Sake of (Relative) Brevity

While identifying the individual merits of each one would prove too long an endeavor at the moment (in my part for writing and yours for reading), I still wish to name a choice few that deserve mention: Super Star Wars (series), X-Wing vs. TIE Fighter, Dark Forces, Rogue Squadron (series), Battlefront (series), Shadows of the Empire, and Trilogy Arcade. Basically, if it was developed in last few years and it wasn't Lego, then the Force is not strong with that one.


My Top 5 Favorite Controllers:

5. The NES Zapper

Admittedly, the inclusion of the Zapper is mostly out of nostalgia. There were plenty of excellent light guns that followed in its wake, such as Namco's GunCon for the Time Crisis series, but the Zapper will forever remain my choice plastic firearm. I can't tell you how many cardboard gangsters in Hogan's Alley or ducks in Duck Hunt fell victim to my close-proximity firing at the screen (however, not enough to keep that stupid dog from laughing at me).

4. The Gibson SG

Sturdy, reliable, and intuitive, RedOctane's ¾ scale rendition of the classic axe provided countless aspiring air rockers an accessible device to perfect their quasi-craft. It was a successful marriage between concept and execution, relaying a realistic-yet-not simulation of guitar playing by simplifying fret and string presence to sequential colored buttons and adding a whammy bar for custom audio effects. Though I have never played a guitar before (or any other musical instrument, outside of the middle school-prescribed recorder) I latched onto it with little difficulty. They say the mark of a great craft is that it is easy to learn, yet difficult to master. RedOctane's ingenious piece of rhythm game hardware epitomizes this philosophy, providing players a convenient template upon which to build their own virtuosic skills through practice and rigor.

Though it outwardly may resemble something of a children's toy, this model has remained the most stalwart of my collection, which includes GH II's X-Plorer, GH III's Les Paul, and RB 1's Stratocaster, all of which have either deteriorated in, or all-out forfeited, playability. It was the first and to this day remains the best. It is a prime example of what can be achieved through publisher/developer cooperation.

3. The Wii Remote and Nunchuk

The problem with the Wii Remote isn't that it's the “novelty” or “gimmick” that it is popularly attributed as being. To the contrary, I believe it was the natural progression in controller hardware. Just look at the PlayStation Move and Kinect. Motion-controlled games are the future of console gaming. So then, why does the “Wiimote” get such flack? It's because so few games utilize it to the utmost of its capability.

When it was released, it was expected to deliver a realistic sword and light gun mechanic, as well as cure cancer and bathe the world with gummy-flavored rainbows, effectively bringing about world peace. As games like Red Steel would indicate at launch, this was not to be the case. “Disappointment” is hardly the word to describe gamers' disenchantment with the device. Ever since, it has been subject to countless party and mini-game collections that use its attributes only on their most superficial level (this is probably also due to the Wii's key demographic of children, families, and “casual” gamers).

However, there are many great examples of how to exploit its motion-capturing capabilities while delivering an experience unique to the software title. There's the Trauma Center series, for example, which literally puts the player in the hands of a surgeon, using the Wii Remote and Nunchuk as various surgical instruments to combat the likes of disease, infection, and... bioterrorism? With laser beams? Yep, this is Japanese, all right.

While there are many more examples of Wii titles that make excellent and innovative use of its controller, there are sadly not enough. This new mode of gaming, though released more than 4 years ago, is still in its early life. It needs to be properly cultivated, which will take creativity, not gimmicks. The Wii Remote is a great controller because it provides a unique tool around which innovative designers can produce innovative games. Hopefully it will see its true fruition before the end of the current gen's life cycle.

2. The Xbox 360 Controller

“Elegant” is the absolute last word I'd use to describe the original Xbox's controller. It was large, clunky, and awkward, reminiscent more of a third-party-developed PC accessory than one of a console proper. How far you've come, Microsoft.

The wireless Xbox 360 controller was the quintessence of simple, yet effective design renovation. Discarding the ridiculous surface area of the previous gen's iteration, it became smoother and far more intuitive. Its various features, such as the right and left analog sticks and grips conform seamlessly to the curvature of the hands. It is the most comfortable and accessible of this gen's offerings, if not all.

1. The Nintendo Entertainment System Controller

It's not smooth, nor elegant. It doesn't have visual flair, motion controls, or aesthetic curvature. It's a small, ugly gray, red, and black brick with only the essential d-pad, “Start”, “Select”, “A”, and “B” buttons. To some, there is nothing special about this device. However, to others, like myself, it epitomizes our love for gaming. The NES controller not only served as the blueprint for generations of console hardware to follow, but it was the foundation of my identity as a gamer. It was the first controller I ever picked up, guiding me through marathon sessions of Super Mario Bros., Mike Tyson's Punch Out!!, and Double Dragon at an age where pacifiers were a more appropriate accessory.

It's more than a controller – it's the icon of a generation. It represents a simpler time when fun took precedence over all else. Even today, picking it up evokes a warm, fuzzy feeling inside of me, reminding me of why I fell in love with gaming in the first place. Sure, it's not the fanciest or most revolutionary device ever made, but it will forever be my favorite controller.

Well, there you have it. I have yet to hear back from the guy (I wonder why). Let me know what you all think.

I sit here reflecting on the many paths I've taken and crossed in my life in the mediocre bask of hotel room light. Thinking of friends and enemies and how to discern the two. Time provides the convenience of context that immediacy doesn't allow. That fleeting happiness doesn't allow. Facebook provides a convenient window for these ponderings to those who will have them. Most do not. In a wonderland of passed and cryptic memories of people that exist (in most cases) no further than their likenesses, I see more. I see friends and comrades who were no more loyal to me than to the audience that listened eagerly to jokes gained at my expense. I have a difficult time feeling much other than nothing and the intense, indignant desire to feel more. I feel betrayed by my own sense of passion and justice in its absense. Perhaps I'm happy because I'm in love and loved in return, with no need or conscious want of anything more in terms of social entanglement. Friends are superficial things, fickle as humans beings oft tend to be. It's not their fault, simply their nature. This is why I expect nothing and expect just as much in return. Still, if even an enemy extended his or her hand in remorse and friendship I would gladly accept. I'm stupid like that.

I feel groggy with a faint sense of pain inhabiting my spine from laying so long. How pathetic. My only productive act of the day was reading The Gunslinger, an engrossing if not meandering introduction to the epic Dark Tower series. More and more I wonder to myself if Steven King's vivid sexual descriptive power is accompanied by his free hand in a solitary act of "inspiration".

In the shower I'm drawn to a note that informs me of environmental awareness and how it somehow relates to towels. It's not illiteracy or vagueness that prevents me from absorbing the message, merely indifference. Somewhere someone is caring whether a tree will stand or fall. That person is not me. I'll take the towel, thank you. (If you find yourself judgemental of my actions with any sense of accusation toward me for not caring, please reflect upon the many causes you, yourself actively contribute to).

I wonder if anyone reads this. Furthermore, do they care? I don't even know if I do. This block of unorganized thought has occupied roughly a half hour of my time on this earth. Whether I'm glad or regretful at this fact is not apparent. Time is what it is, and it passes regardless of your action therein.

Requiem for a Dream is the Biggest Piece of Shit Movie Ever

I have never, in the course of my life, walked out on a movie until now. This poor excuse for a fucking construct of any sort is the most pretentious, sloppy, pointless, self-important heap of garbage I've ever had the misfortune to watch thirty minutes of. Everything about that movie strikes me as a failed attempt of an art school reject trying to "prove everyone wrong". I'm willing to bet my golden dollar that everyone involved was in a constant session of jacking themselves off to their own percieved "genius".

I hate, HATE the repeated use of what people have creatively (note: sarcasm) dubbed "hip hop shots". They're not cool, they're not innovative, and doing them twenty thousand fucking times won't change my mind on the matter. It's like Darren Aronofsky is sitting there in the room next to me repeatedly proclaiming "SEE WHAT I DID THERE?" every time it happens. Yes, Darren, I did see. Now go fucking ram a jagged spear up your rectum, you hack piece of shit.

I'm not even kidding when I say watching that movie put me in a literal state of physical distress. And no, it's not becauase the movie is "bleak" (I prefer the term "pointless"). It's because it's a terrible film. It totally, TOTALLY escapes me why ANYONE would like (nontheless LOVE) this movie. The sense of pretense underlying every single shot of every single frame is enough to make me vomit. Speaking of vomiting, I can't deal with Jennifer Connelly's eyebrows. They're just too fucking much. I (and this is no fucking joke; I say this with complete seriousness), thought she was a man for a good few minutes following her introduction. A weed-wacker would lack the sufficient strength to destroy those furry fucks.

I'm done with this. I can't even write this because I'm too distracted by the frightening image of Marlon Wayans' thrusting buttocks. In summary, if this was a living organism, I would shove a stick of dynamite up its dick hole (assuming it's male), remove its nipples with a rusty shovel, and beat it to death with a screaming animal (which I would let live because it didn't bring the great evil to the world that its victim did).

Worst movie ever.

Thoughts

- Karma does not exist. It's a silly, if not altogether irresponsible ideal that promises universal retribution for every evil and reward for every good deed ever commited. Think of all the misdeeds that go unpunished and all the good that goes unapppreciated. It's incomprehensible to think that every force is counterbalanced by an equal, opposing one. Not only that, but I think such a belief robs the human endeavor of any sense of personal responsibility and conscience. It's easy to sit and think of how you will be rewarded for every good thing you've done and everyone that's ever wronged you will be wronged themselves by divine intervention. It's lazy and egotistical. A person should do good because it's the right thing and handle the evils of the world (theirs and others, alike) with a clear mind and responsibility. There's no invisible weight upon our souls, except for that which we accept, willingly or not. The universe is a system of stimulus and response. Even if the majority of the time actions are met with suitable counterreactions, this isn't divine intervention - punching someone in the face usually will warrant a punch back and holding a door for someone will usually warrant a "thank you". It's just rationality. To do good for nothing but personal gain is detestable, as is believing God will punish evil on your behalf. Law exists for a reason. It's up to mankind to supervise and ultimately answer to itself.

- Love will ultimately save the world, and forgiveness will redeem it. This is more difficult than it sounds. Love, in all its forms, is a process. Some things are easy to love, while others seem impossible. It's a pursuit based in understanding and empathy. We are all human beings. This is what we all have in common. A framework, if you will. Should we always forgive? What are the conditions? Is it possible to love and forgive everyone? This I don't know, as I don't know the ultimate fate of the world. All I know is that's the goal. Whether we'll ever see the punchline to this funny little joke of an endeavor is beyond me.

- I believe people now when they say they're "too busy". Now, that doesn't discount from it from usually being an excuse. It is. But now I accept it as a possibility.

"Don't Forget to Breathe"

Imagine forgetting to breathe. Imagine such basic, essential knowledge escaping you. What would you do? Assuming that you even KNOW where the closest assisted-breathing device is, how would you get to it in time to save yourself? You wouldn't have the strength to ask someone to give their breath to you. Even if they did, it would fail to keep you alive for any amount of time and you would, inevitably, die.

Human memory constantly makes errors. Perhaps not frequently of such magnitude, but it's undeniable that such lapses occur. Is it such an impossible proposition that one of the infinite, complex functions of the human brain will fail at its most daunting task and, as a result of its shortcoming, the spark that associates "breath" with "life" will defuse, causing the ultimate slip of the tongue?

Now consider that, at any given moment, your brain is occupied in said infinite functions, meaning that, at any and every point and time, this rather silly form of demise is entirely possible.

Thus, I leave you with this most practical tip in the difficult journey that is life: "Don't forget to breathe".

The Monster in the Closet

Self-evaluation is a difficult, meticulous, frightening venture, altogether obscured by the tedium and preoccupations of everyday life. Few of us tread this dark path and fewer succeed in answering any of the questions either time or honesty permit to be asked. Why are we here? Where are we going? What is our true nature? What's the validity of our lives and the ultimate meaning at their end? More and more I find myself suspecting that there is an ulterior truth to the mundane order that is "normalcy".

Day after day, we go through the motions, unsuspecting that anything is occurring beyond our immediate reach. We have jobs, relationships - the list goes on. It's in between the hustle and bustle of obligation that we're left alone to face the crisis of idleness. And what do we do? We play video games, watch movies, eat, pursue sexual gratification - all fun, but ultimately pointless endeavors. Now consider being robbed of any of these options, or any options at all, and being made to sit in a room for an extended period of time. Alone, but for the indifference of the walls surrounding you. Your mind begins its labor of analyzation, evaluating and decoding every word you have ever spoken and every action you have ever taken, trying desperately to remember the motivation and the desired versus actual outcome of said occurences. As an author edits his work draft by draft in pursuit of utter perfection, you percieve everything that was, is, and could be as a direct result of your existence. How much real influence do you have in the chaotic foray of life?

It is often said that anyone can achieve anything with the utmost work, motivation, and persistence. Even if one reaches their goal, despite all physical, financial, or any other God-implemented handicap, what next? You're President of Earth, but one day you'll be the president of nothing more than a mound of dirt that, with no pride, suffocates the rotting carcass of someone who lives in nothing more than the fond memories of future mound-mates and poorly financed PBS specials.

Memories. What an amazing compliment to the already convulted human construct. Even psychologists don't understand their work. I'd go as far as to say that they are even "creepy". Sure, we as a society question the validity of phenomenon such as ESP, but accept this highly mysterious and powerful function as the "norm". It's an old philosophic supposition that memories are indeed the fabled human soul, and that is the only way that one may outlive their own demise. Evolutionary proponents will add that our unwavering pursuit of fucking is also an attempt at immortality through the venue of offspring. I can't help but believe both (the former due to its sheer appeal, the latter because "they said so").

However, these are very general in application. Very few of us have the luxury of knowing why we are doing what we are and the foresight to know what will become of us in the future. Sure, we're going to school or working because we want to "further ourselves" or "make money", but what would you do if you could do anything you wanted? This is the thought that fucking haunts me, that goes bump in my night. What is humanity's true face? What are the deep, dark desires repressed by the all-powerful social system? How many demons are truly among us and why do they exist? Are they, ironically, the result of repression or an inherent factor in the human equation?

This leads me to a rather bleak theory: our lives, relationships, pursuits - indeed, everything that defines us as both individuals and as a species - are the result of massive social conditioning. It is an acknowledged fact that conditioning exists. However, try to comprehend this very simply truth. Everything you do and believe are not you, but what society tells you to be. What you thought you are is just a mask bound tightly over your primordial flesh with the tenderness only fear and desperation may provide. In other words, you are nothing more than a fictional construct whose sole purpose is a lie to mask the horror that is your true self.

Do I propose we all go out and gratify these urges, disregarding the laws that keep our world afloat? Of course not. Anarchy is an ideal reserved only for ninteenth Russian philosophers and 14-year-old kids that buy ripped jeans at Wal-Mart with the belief that their purchase is an affront to the omnicient "Man". Laws exist for a reason, even if their existence is a lie. It's the lie that makes it meaningful.

I've come to two conclusions: either mankind has come to some unanimous understanding at some undetermined point in the course of human history that their nature is indeed evil and hedonistic and they implemented these things called "law" and "order" to contain it, or they are blissfully oblivious, avoiding this fact like a pink elephant by continuing about their silly lives without question or insight.

I don't for a second claim that anything I say is true. Afterall, these are meandering thoughts occuring in the early morning hours on a soda-induced euphoria. It is just as likely that these theories are true that I'm spattering utter bullshit. I'd like to believe I am. I'd like to believe there's no monster in the closet. However, from time to time I can see him peeking out at me. Watching. Waiting.

It's for this reason that I cannot sleep.

The Greatest Thing Ever

The following is a series of pictures depicting Sarah Palin's pregnant teenage daughter getting drunk, "throwing" faux-gang signs and toting firearms with her redneck boyfriend.

Drunk Rednecks & Co.

"But Alex! That's not fair to call them rednecks!". Aha! This is where this delicious piece of orgasmic information comes in. The following is an excerpt from the redneck boyfriend's MySpace:

'I'm a fuckin' redneck who likes to snowboard and ride dirt bikes. But I live to play hockey. I like to go camping and hang out with the boys, do some fishing, shoot some shit and just fuckin' chillin' I guess. Ya fuck with me I'll kick ass."
Status: "In a relationship.''
Children: "I don't want kids.''

My God. Are you kidding me? Are you teasing me with the sweet nectar of the almighty, my Lord? Please tell me this is true! Alas, it is. This man is, indeed, a "fuckin' redneck" and if you fuck with him he'll "kick ass" - and let's not overlook that he "doesn't want kids". Stellar.

"But Alex! That's not fair to attack the unwed, pregnant, gun-toting, drunk teenage daughter of the woman who's running for vice presidency on a ticket that enforces abstinence!"

Why, yes it is. It's also hilarious.

Also, Sarah Palin wanted Alaska to secede. Proof.

I love politics.