Thank God.

He had no idea what was going on.  Either the drugs were really good or really bad, but that was not the dilemma currently.  The question was could he get out of this mess that consisted of two dead hookers, a dying hooker, a slaughtered goat, and FBI agents.

It wasn’t like it was his fault that he had overfilled the bathtub and dropped on top of some hookers trying to summon Satan, nor that the FBI was doing a sting in the building.  But, now he was naked in a bubble bath with two dead hookers underneath and one more bleeding out from being attacked by the bathtub claw.  As he sat there in the bubbles he did find one piece of comfort: he now knew what laughter from under full tactical gear sounded like.

“I don’t think he is the drug pin we are looking for.” One of the agents said.  The others where still trying to hold back the laughter of witnessing a balding middle-age man with a shower cap and scrub brush looking surprised at the turn of events.

“Excuse me,” Dan timidly asked, “would you mind handing my towel and robe that have fallen at your feet?”  It was unfortunate that his favorite robe had been the object to land in the goat’s blood.

“Here you are. I am going to have to ask that you come with us for questioning.” The agent in charge replied.  “Oh, by the way pour some Coca-Cola on the blood stain.  It helps prevent it from setting.”

Dan was cursing the fact he had decided to take the LSD fueled bath.  Why did bubbles have to be such a great object to play with while high?  Why did his high make him forget that the tub was running?  And lastly why did he take the acid at home?  There was comfort that there were no more drugs in his apartment, as he had taken the last three hits.

“Excuse me sir, but I do require a statement.”  This FBI agent was cute but that thought was the acid talking.

“I told you everything, I took a bath and my floor gave way.  Will I be charged with their deaths?”  Dan was quite worried about that last part, he had never killed anything before.

“No, as they were conducting an illegal, drug-fueled Satin summoning it will be marked down as an Act of God.”

“Thank God.”

“I do believe that is the point sir.  Now if you would just sign here and somebody will be taking you to a hotel.”

“Wait! A hotel? But I want to go home!” This was not good, Dan checked the clock on the wall.  That was another 11 hours of trip outside the safety of his home.  Although, he thought, his home was not that safe to begin with.

“Yes, a hotel.” She replied, “We intend to use the accident as to place surveillance for monitoring the building.  Don’t worry, we will have you in protective custody for the next week.”

Dan went and sat down.  Protective custody? Wow, that was something he thought only happened in movies and television.  But, he guessed it must actually happen even if he didn’t know of anyone that went into it.  He smiled, that was kind of the point he thought.  He looked up at the FBI agent who had taken his statement; she was gorgeous, she exuded a warm vibe… and that was the LSD again.  Fuck, he would soon need a better place to be.  Maybe he could play off the next hour of the trip as trauma induced stress.  He then realized that he was stroking the chair, so maybe not.

the problem with FPS

When I first explained FPS games to my grandfather, a colonel in the US Army, he scoffed.  "You only have one life son.  And to survive a war you cannot lose it."  This has stuck with me through the years.  While others had made fun of me for my pride behind 6 ko's in a game, although with no death, I remembered the advice of my grandfather.  While a game allows you to practice strategies, in war death is final and no checkpoint exists.

Call of Duty is one of the most successful games in history, but if I am allowed an infinite of deaths it loses its attempt of meaning.  Call of Duty, just the title, attempts to evoke a power of meaning behind the struggle of good and evil.  Yet, in consideration of my grandfathers advice it loses it.  For my grandfather war was not a game, it was a struggle of live and death with an enemy as intelligent (if not more) than your own.  In war one fights the perfect foe: another human.  The greatest game, the most dangerous game.

Call of Duty, Battlefield, Medal of Honor, even the Halo games attempt to invoke a sense of power and purpose behind the game.  Yet with the idea of powerups, checkpoints, and other basic video game additions the art of war is lost on a generation.  For many the basic fundamentals of war are no longer basic: with the rise of education the idea of just following orders has become an invalid excuse (I blame the Nuremberg Trails but with no approval of the NAZIS).  Youth understand the importance, and the pride, behind giving one's life for country but they don't understand what it means to "only regret that I have but one life to give for my country." (RIP Nathan Hale).

The youth don't know the regret that Mr. Hale speaks of.  Their regret is one of not being able to ace the game.  Not the regret that they could not give the total 100% that the human mind and body can give to an idea.  That is the problem I have with strategic games in general.  It is impossible to convey the message that one life is actually one life, with out making the game nigh impossible.  In the video era to create an equal of this meaning would be: buy a $100 video game and only have one chance to beat it.  If the game is that of super mario I say alright, but COD?  If you ever meet a man who beat the recent installment of COD first try with one life then you have found: 1 a lier, 2 the best thumb reflexes in humans.

To fight  is human, to win is divine.  That has been spoken in some form throughout human history.  What it does not tell is that to win one must live.  It is easy to play a game and die a thousand times; it is hard to fight "the good fight" for what is believed in and win with one's life.  The winner is victorious: the one's that write history are those who win.  In human history, in human war, the winners never had the basics of modern FPS.  There are no save points, no powerups, no perfect wins.  War is fought by man for man, and because of this somebody always dies and somebody always survives.

I will admit a bias: I come from a military family.  Even though many of my family are officers, the majority did not start that way.  My grandfather enlisted and fought through WW2 before commission.  I agree that a majority of the "upper class" (ie officers) tend to neglect casualties; but my family has taught me the importance of life.  It is easy to send a man to his death, it is harder to walk towards death yourself.  Only after believing an idea, making it part of one's self is an individual able to give up their life.  I have no memory where the quote comes from: "For a human to commit suicide they must already be dead inside."  Yet to die for an idea an individual is not dead yet, they are willing to die in what they believe in.  They are so sure in their idea, they know that their death is justification for that belief.

That is the core belief in the military tradition of my family: If you are not willing to die for the beliefs and thoughts that are your own how can you send another?

The problem with modern video games is that they lose this meaning while portraying it.  COD uses powerful quotes and epic story lines to create a feeling of righteousness.  Yet, they allow you to attempt a thousand times the storm of (insert here the end of the map).  In the real world, as a solider, you feel righteous before, during, and after the death of those oppose you.  And if you survive you more than feel, you know that righteousness deep down in your soul.

My grandfather fought and won for the side of United States of America and the freedoms and liberty it represents, and because of that he knows in his soul what he believes: because he bet his life.

Beer and motivation.

Its hard to find motivation in life.  From getting up to workout, to writing a book, to applying for higher education.  Its more than finding and using some energy, its finding the emotional stimulus to bring one to use that energy.  I think I have found some of that energy: I don't want to end up like those around me.  Failed lives are to frequent in this world.  It is too easy to fail and still be okay: a shitty job is still a job that pays for the bills.  It is easy to spend a major portion of my life working low wage jobs.  It is hard to realize my own potential and get up and change the world.  I have many plans that could (or could not) pay off.  The problem is that they may not, but that should not stop us from reaching for our dreams.

Man is a conservative beast.  As such he is afraid of chance, specifically when it comes to his own life.  I am naturally afraid of "throwing caution to the wind."   Should I let this hold me back?  I say no, this should empower us to strive for more.  William Shatner recently said in an interview when confronted with his own successes and why he keeps going with the immortal cry of "because it is there."  If only we all had this drive.

The motivation for this post was a night of drinking and enjoyment of friends.  Maybe I should try harnessing this energy during a sober period and see what I create?

Okay so...

... if browser cookies are able to record the previous page before access to another website (Amazon.com knows that you were over at  Target's website) and because website statistics are such a big part of the web industry then there is some sad person who looks through this data and knows the person who was on a porn site and then went to amazon to find cheap toys; and as scary as this maybe for a few out there, what happens when I start to visit hardcore porn sites in between browsing popular children sites (Highlights, Nickelodeon...)?

Is that guy trolling through the data going to say anything?  Personally I would start a pin-board in my office with a constant list of the weirdest/cool site stepping.  But I think the right/ethical thing would be to visit the data on that ISP and see if they show signs of pedophilia or child porn procession.

Food for thought on a Friday afternoon.  Welcome to The Crooked Way, with your host Bent Ray.

After the badgering of friends and family I have created a blog, but as I am shy it is an anonymous blog.  Which blows a hole in the whole blog thing (heh.)

I wanted a place to put down my own weird brain flashes and twisted humour.  And here it is: