Every day when I return home from work, I pass
by a sign that reminds me a certain intersection is a "dangerous
intersection". I don't really get it. I could understand if the
intersection was rigged with explosives, and it was a virtual Russian roulette
whether your car would get blown to smithereens. All this intersection has is a
tiny shrub that even I can see over in my little station wagon. There isn't
even a lot of traffic at this particular intersection, which is surprising
where I live. Did something major happen here in the past? Maybe it used to be
the location of a chemical gas warehouse, and they're unsure how it affected
the land. I think it's a little deeper than that. I'm sure if I read into the
fine print, it would have a description like this: "this intersection has
the potential to be the center of an explosive universe creation, which would
result in rapid matter dispersal and possible structural damage to
vehicles." Shouldn't they put up a sign like this at all intersections?

One of the less publicized transcripts from the NASA space program

Mission Control: You're GO at *hic* six minutes, thirteen. *hic*
Space Shuttle: Go at 6. And, Houston, what's the story with engine 5?
MC: Jim, Houston. *hic* We don't have *hic* a story on why the *hic* inboard out was early *hic* GOD DAMMIT!
SS: Houston?
MC: Sorry, *hic* but these hiccups are *hic* driving me crazy. *hic*
SS: (laughter) Okay, okay, go ahead, Houston.
MC: Anyway, *hic* I don't know *hic* about the inboard, but *hic* the other engines are go *hic* and you're go. *hic*
SS: Roger. We're Mode II, gentlemen, Mode II.
MC: 10-23, Houston. *hic* You're still looking good; *hic* your gimbals are *hic* good; *hic* trim is good. *hic*
SS: Uh...
MC: 10-23?
SS: Houston, can't you get a glass of water or something?
MC: Ah... I tried all that *hic* already. *hic* Drinking water, holding *hic* my breath, *hic* eating crackers, *hic* all of it. I knew I *hic* shouldn't've had that *hic* Mountain Dew before *hic* coming into the room. *hic*
SS: I have to admit that that's getting a bit distracting.
MC: I'll bet. *hic*
SS: Anyway, we just checked the trim, and it doesn't fit.
MC: 10-23, Houston. *hic* Level sense arm time *hic*, 8 plus 38, *hic* -
SS: Listen, no offence, but can we get another mission controller here?
MC: Why? Am I *hic* steering you wrong? *hic*
SS: No, no, Houston. It's just your hiccups are distracting and I think I might -
MC: Now, *hic* you listen here. I am *hic* the most well-trained mission con- *hic* controller here. I don't want to *hic* hear any of this -
SS: Oh no, everything is going into the red! Systems are failing! Houston, we need help!
MC: What the!? 10-23 *hic* what's going on up there? Tell me what's going on! 10-23? 10-23!?
SS: ...
MC: 10-23?
SS: ... Did we scare you?
MC: 10-23, you guys suck.
SS: (laughter) So, about that trim?
MC: Roger, level sense arm time...

It was a long and fun adventure, but I finally came home from my extended weekend at Otakon. For all three days, my buddy Stephen and I drove down to Baltimore to take in all of the fun, entertainment, and scantily clad cosplayers. Most of our time was spent putzing around the dealers' room, artists' alley, and gaming hall. Here are some of the photos taken from around the Con. They are mostly of cosplayers, so be ready.

Cosplayers

Ocelot has been cloned!

Mffffmffmff!

The creepiest Spy at the Con

Zelda and Sheik in the infinitely superior alternate costume

Adorable!

The good doctor

No piano wire? I'm disappointed.

Konata shouldn't be taller than me...

Make sure to click below for more!
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I'm off to Otakon tomorrow. There is almost a 95% certainty that there will be no posts for the rest of the weekend... which pretty much builds on the hiatus I started last weekend. Writer's block is a pain. If you fancy, you can read my Otakon post from last year. Until next time... screw Flanders.

Picture not related... just silly.

I suppose I should try to explain my obvious lack of Xanga posts over these last couple of days. The reason is fairly simple actually. Aside from working and preparing for a trip next weekend, I have been, for better or worse, hooked onto an old DOS game I found called Princess Maker 2.

Let me tell you the basic premise, and you will see instantly why this game is awesome. You see, the character you play as is a wandering mercenary who just saved a world single-handedly from a demon onslaught. In return for this act, the king gives him citizenship and a yearly stipend to protect the village. Shortly thereafter, the gods, for some reason or another, saw fit to give this gifted swordsman a little girl for him to raise on his own. Thus begins the game...
Yes, this game is all about raising your "daughter" in the best way you can. That's right: it's a time sink. It's also fiendishly difficult. Who knew raising a daughter would be so challenging? This game has multiple endings based on how you raise your daughter. These endings range from the great (queen, prime minister, archbishop, etc.) to the... less than optimal (divorcee, part-time farmer, prostitute, etc.). Thus far, I have only raised my daughter into a part-time farmer or lumberjack (F@CK!). Apparently, I make a terrible father. I'm sure slaying another thousand demon kings would be easier.
The core gameplay revolves around choosing activities for your daughter every month. These activities have various effects on her character stats. Stats? Yeah, it's an RPG... of sorts. Rather than fighting for all of your stat increases, you have to do stuff. Have a gutter-mouth for a kid? Send her to some protocol classes to improve her Refinement stat. Is your daughter a sinner before God? Send her to work at the church for a few days to improve her Morals stat and likewise decrease her Sin stat (not recommended if you want your daughter to grow up to be an S&M queen). My favorite thing to do is send my ten-year-old daughter to work on a farm for a month to improve her Constitution and Strength. She becomes less refined, but that's carefully balanced out by the satisfaction of sending a ten-year-old girl to work on a farm. Other jobs? How about sending your daughter to work at a graveyard, brickworks, or cabaret (big $$$ for underage girlz)?
All in all, I'm still playing this game just to figure out a good way to play. It's tough, but I'm sure I will be quite satisfied when my cabaret dancer grows up to be the kingdom's archbishop. Needless to say, posts will continue to be sporadic, at best.

Welcome to the first and only annual edition of Lazy Saturday. Lazy Saturday is that special holiday where Jimbo has a bunch of ideas to write about but is simply to lazy to transfer them to a word processor. Instead, for your viewing pleasure, he posts a YouTube video.

Note from Jimbo: I have this song stuck in my head. I hope I didn't ruin your day by doing the same thing to you.
Scat (n): the excrement of an animal.
The more you know!

I don't really understand the phrase "rest in peace". Of course, it may be because I don't believe in an afterlife, thus making any wishes for the dead moot. It would be like telling my wall to "have a good day" as I left for work. I hope they don't say this to people who get cremated. They tell the dead to rest in peace, and then light them on fire? I just don't understand. Even if there is an afterlife, it would still be odd to tell a person to rest in peace. First of all, what if the person is in Hell, or some hellish equivalent? I don't think his personal demons are going to go any easier on the schmuck just because of a few "rest in peace"s. They may actually just mock him because of it, as they shove another garden rake up his nose. Also, what if the person in question did not wish to rest in peace. He had enough peace on Earth and just wanted to have a little excitement in his afterlife. Who are you to tell him to rest up after finally dying? That's just selfish. I guess it would make a little sense if you believed in reincarnation, especially if there's a delay before the person can return. The "rest while you can" mentality works rather well when you have to wait before you can steal some baby's body.