Pop-Tarts and toaster
Tasty and easy breakfast
Good morning, Jimbo

Brushing of the teeth
Brighten to a mirror sheen
Familiar taste

Relaxing shower
Take away the morning's cold
And the morning's stench

Combing long-ish hair
How can hair get so knotted?
The physics fail me

Blue jeans or blue jeans?
The choices of the jobless
The daunting burden

To the computer
Check news, blogs, friends, and comics
My energy source

Today's agenda
What mysteries will appear
And so it begins

Everyday at my apartment

While we are all enjoying another Valentine's Day, let us take a moment to remember the nearly 3,000 people that died in the September 11th terrorist attacks. I just want to remind you of that so it will pop into your head while you couples have sex tonight. I'm bitter.

Friends, it is time we took this life protection thing seriously. You see, I was reading one of those science books recently, and while I took the information inside with a massive pinch of salt, one datum struck me as damaging. You see, every time a man ejaculates into a woman, the way God intended, he wastes millions upon millions of sperm. We already know the bad about abortion; those are potential lives being destroyed. The waste of all of these sperm is no different. They all have the potential to bring life into the world! Wasting all of these little beings just to fertilize a single egg is shameful.

What we need to do is train our bodies to produce only a single sperm at a time. This will ensure that not a single potential life is wasted and preserve God's greatest gift to humanity. I have no doubt that this is possible. We just have to, as a people, strengthen our minds and bodies through prayer and self-control. I remember reading somewhere that people can control their blood pressure through willpower alone, so I see no reason why we cannot restrict our bodies to a single sperm per reproductive session.

If worse comes to worse, we may need to intervene surgically. This is an issue that cannot be ignored. I am already preparing letters to my congressmen to make sure something is done about this. God wills it. God wills it!

A'ight dawgs, listen up. I'ma 'bout to tell y'all about the most straight-up dopest game eva'. It's called Dinosaur Safari for the PC. It is all kinds'a old-school.

Yo, let me tell ya how it is. You'z this rookie photo-taker, right? And you'z gotta take pictures of dinosaurs for a magazine they makin'. You get abo'rd this time machine and it takes you 'round the time of dinosaurs and you, like, go around the globe real easy-like and snap pics and videos of all the dinosaurs. All these snaps you take are put up on dis uh, uh, cladogram in the lobby, right? You can't win 'less you gets all'a da cladogram filled out, playa.

This ain't some walk in da park, though, homie. You start out with only a busta's 'mount a' green and film. But it ain't really film you taking pics wit'. They these crystals, y'see? You start out wi' five a' these motha-fuckas, and youz got to fill out entire branches a' the cladogram to get some mo'. Sho, the li'l alien dude will sell ya more if you run out, but that takes cash you won't have a lot of. The cash is da energy you use fo' ya time machine, right? You get mo' of the stuff if you take good photos, playa. Gotta be careful, though, since these dinos might run up and take a big bite outta yo' ass and leave you with no green. As y' move up da ranks, you get more toys to play wit', like a video camera and a, uh, radar detector and shit. It's tight, yo.

Let me wrap dis up. If you'z gonna play a game this afta'noon, Dinosaur Safari is da shit. Load it up and get going, playa. Peace.

By Jimbo
Jimbo News Network

The recent snowstorm that dropped nearly two feet of snow on the east coast resulted in a failure by default for a group of would-be presidential assassins. "We just couldn't move our cars," said George Andrews, one of the members, who wished to remain anonymous. They expressed embarrassment and disappointment. After all of the work to plan the attack, acquiring all of the weapons, packing the car, and leaving notes for family in case they were captured or killed, they could not accomplish their goal. "Oh well," George shrugged. "We'll just do it next time. You won't show my name in the article, right?"

The president's secret service was particularly pleased by the news. "Oh, well, that's good, I suppose," said secret service employee Chad Schtick. "Er, I mean, it all went exactly to plan. We knew this was going to happen all along." The president and his none-too-pleased family and staff were outside shoveling out the white house and unavailable for comment. The country is encouraged to be extra nice for a few days while the government tries to dig out the capitol and get back to work doing whatever it is they do.

The team over at Good Morning Jimbo report on the blizzard that is taking the east coast by storm!

It has been a while since I did a game review, hasn't it? For the review today, I have chosen the Wii-exclusive Muramasa, or to refer to it by its proper name: Muramasa - The Demon Blade. This game is essentially two games in one: one follows the adventures of a demon-possessed princess whose kimono rides appealingly up whenever she jumps, and the other follows a ninja who wears too much eye-shadow and probably listens to Panic! at the Disco or the like. It doesn't really matter which game you choose because they are both exactly the same. Oh sure, they differ with some of the details, but ultimately you are going to follow the same progression in both.

I felt that Mufasa - The Demon Blade was a nostalgic trip down memory lane. The focus of the game is running from one side of the screen to the other while killing everything that looks at you funny. This endeared itself to me along with its simple control scheme. In very little time, you will find yourself gaily killing badniks three times over without once touching the ground. It is exceptionally satisfying.

All is not well, however. Murphy's Law - The Demon Blade has one very tragic flaw: the lack of an engaging story. When you begin a new game you are dropped into the world with no opening information. There is no opening cut scene or scrolling text explaining what's going on. You are just put into the world to figure out what is going on. This type of prologue is possible for some games, but it would either need to have no story (just kill advancing space insects) or a very simple, straightforward story (save your girlfriend from a large primate) . Not only do you have one awkward plot to follow, but two. Fortunately, the boy's story arc had an absolutely adorable romance between the emo ninja and the precious horse-archer royal.

Ultimately, there was very little to keep me going after the combat got old. I continued, however, because they have a sword forging aspect that requires you to continue through the game before you can acquire the full set. Being the obsessive, I-need-100% gamer that I am, I needed all of those swords. I like to refer to this as Gotta Catch 'Em All Syndrome. A game can be exceptionally mediocre, but the obsessive need to acquire every little trinket drives you forward.

The graphics are very pretty. When I first started playing, I believe my thoughts were, "ooooooooooh, pretty." As with much of Muscovite - The Demon Blade, the shock value quickly wore off as you were treated to essentially the same five settings on a conveyor belt as though watching an old Hanna-Barbera cartoon. You would shift from a rice paddy to a bamboo grove to a misty forest then to a bamboo grove again then to a town then to a rice paddy again. The same backdrops are recycled until the novelty wears off.

I know I am complaining too much about this game, but I truly enjoyed it. Its near-medieval gameplay was refreshing and its functional controls almost make up for the ignorable story and graphics. Honestly, it gets almost three-thousand bonus points for not having any waggle-controls (and an extra thousand for allowing me to play the entire game with a Gamecube controller). It's a fun game, but you might want to rent it before you make the decision to buy.

"I'm Bear Grylls, and today I'm braving one of the most treacherous environments around: the Virginia snowstorm. It'll be brutal, with nearly two feet of snow in some areas, but I will try and teach you all of the techniques you need to survive."

(Open to shaky camera behind 'Bear' holding handle to front door of house leading out, helicopter noise in the background. He opens the door and jumps out as though diving from a helicopter into a foot of snow)

"Oh, would you look at that? What we have here is one of the dangers of the Virginia winter. This is yellow snow. You do not want to go near this stuff and is definitely not edible. Let me just give it a wide berth."

"It's getting close to nightfall, so we're going to have to think of some shelter. Fortunately, the Virginia suburbs provide ample opportunities to keep warm when the sun sets. Ah, here's a perfect place: my house. Let's try and get inside (calmly open front door). Yes, this looks like an excellent place for camp."

"We need to start thinking about food. In the cold, you burn more calories just trying to keep warm, even when you leave into the wilderness with a warm coat and decent shoes. Now, snow isn't good to eat. Obviously, it's too cold and doesn't make for good television. We can use the snow as a weapon by rolling it up into a small, handheld ball. Use it in an effort to stun some of the wildlife and maybe get a good meal. Like a squirrel-THERE! (throw snowball at tree) Ah, bad luck. It got away. Fortunately, back at camp, we have some meat already trapped (go back inside, open refrigerator, make a sandwich)."

by Jimbo
Jimbo News Network

A large percentage of the population is in shock by President Obama's recent announcement to repeal the well-known 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' policy of the US military. Young-adult men are shaking their heads at another freedom being taken away by the government. "I thought this would be my ticket out," says 21-year-old Frank Washington. "If they ever tried to declare a draft, I figured I would just blow off some guy, declare I'm gay, and they would boot me out."

By repealing 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell', the government intends to close this loophole. President Obama stated in an interview for rival news organization MS-poopy-C, "we will not let anyone dodge a draft because of their sexuality."

Some members of the population took the news in a more positive light. Vietnam War draft-dodgers were particularly pleased. "These young fellows are going to do some actual work to get out of any drafts," says a wizened Adam Roosevelt in a particularly exhausting diatribe on American culture. "Back in my day, that wouldn't be enough. You had to earn your freedom; either you ran to Canada or you pumped some buckshot into your foot." Much of Roosevelt's continued interview response was off topic.

Unfortunately, no authentically homosexual individuals were available for comment.

After a long night of drinking, Steve rolls out of bed and picks up his notebook. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, but the headache persists. He writes 'painkillers' in his notebook and pops the Tylenol without water. This would not be his first time. He shuffles to the table near the window and decides on breakfast. He writes 'waffles' in his notebook and eats. Steve lets out a deep sigh.

Living in the poor side of town is difficult. While most people use their notebooks to write better lives for themselves, he simply couldn't. Incorporeal objects were elusive to the notebook's powers. True love, better looks, better personality, a cure for his habits: none of these could simply be summoned. He scribbles 'whiskey' in the notebook and chases down the waffles.

The ground shakes and the glass rattles. Steve glances out the window. It looks like some hooligans are having an illegal Cthulu-Hydra battle a few blocks down. No doubt the bets are getting high. It isn't for money, of course; people can just write 'money' in their respective notebooks and instantly have more scratch. They are probably betting with things that can't be summoned from the notebook: respect, power, sex.

Steve writes 'remote control' in his notepad and turns on the TV in the corner. He knows he will eventually gravitate to the couch and throw his remote on the steadily growing pile in the corner. In the morning, he can't be bothered to walk across the room just to pick up the one from the morning before. He listens to the newscasters giving a deadpan report on the number of dead from the ongoing war for land. Combatants are getting dangerously close to writing 'nuclear bomb' or 'black hole', which would practically ensure the end of the world.

Not bothering to change out of his pajamas, Steve plops on the couch with his glass and changes the channel. The documentary channel is showing footage from an age long past. Steve finishes his drink, glances at his notebook, and writes 'heroin'.

"To Hell with it," he says out loud to no one in particular. "The world is shit, so I see no reason why I can't treat myself." Steve's day begins and the world continues.