Idylls of the Meadowlark

A cheap ballpoint pen exploded in his hand today. The ink splattered on his face and soiled his pants. It was the first time since grade school he managed to ruin a pair of pants like that. A thin line of black ink lay vertically over his left lens. He was embarrassed by his display of anger. He had been alone with no one to see his fit, but he knew the harassment he would receive had she been sitting in his cubical. It would have been a glance of judgment no longer than a moment, but long enough that he could measure the amount of her love he had lost. He collected his papers, nothing more than reports and spread sheets. He walked the few city blocks to the subway station and caught one of the dingy tin boxes headed his way.
He had a message on his answering machine that he ignored. He worked his way to the kitchen dropping his keys and unsorted mail on the table. Then rummaging through his pragmatically stocked cupboards, no more than the things that sustained life, he pulled out a can and almost made a Rorschach styled human-bean juice joke to himself, but instead thought it better to just consume in silence. After his banquet, he went into the spare room. It was filled with boxes of her clothes. He found his Radio Flyer red toolbox and removed the Acetone. He took off his pants and examined the stain. It looked as if he had leaked a blight from his crotch. As he continued to look, the phone began to ring and so he started in on the stain pouring the chemical solution directly on his office drone, standard, tan pants. The brackish black and blue of the stain grew, like yet another bruise. Discouraged, he tossed the pants in a hamper and started out of the spare room.
“Oscar... Oscar pick up. Fine, you know you have to be there this weekend. I’ve already sent you the information and anyway I really think we should talk. That’s what people do. They talk. Call me back before Friday. It’s not your fault you didn’t know.” Oscar had only just crossed the frame of the door before he was drawn into a world his mind had buried in the cool, damp, dirt of the Earth(Why would a pirate bury treasure? He must have experienced an emotional trauma that ruined its value.). He fell to the floor; his heart and lungs dancing between expansion and contraction; his eyes darting from reverie to reality until, he was with two feet firmly planted in an episode from his past.
On a lark, at a romantic age, standing in between the larches and the scrub he pulled back the hammer on his phone; it rang once, it rang twice, it rang three times, and after the third, he began to think about the bedlam of thoughts that would spray across the grass when she picked up and fired. He imagined how the dogs would roll in the grass smearing his wet, sticky, and timid desires all over their coats, confusing what was his very strength and vitality, a sap of sorts, for nothing more than morning dew. These thoughts were cut short as he heard a greeting on the other end of the line. To his amazement, he was not blown away by the ejaculate launched from the speaker of his phone, but instead he was taken aback by the modesty of the tones being emitted. This however did not fill him with courage. He fumbled around with his tongue, touching and running over ideas and emotions until they simply became sodden with his spit. He started to lose hope in himself the longer this went on. He had gone through the trouble of getting her number in true Lloyd Dobler fashion without finding the wherewithal to ask her out. His words continued to leak from his mouth until finally she cut through what was becoming an indecipherable stream, for fear of drowning. She suggested a meeting in a public place, well lit and filled with escape routes. They picnicked in the park, she made her second favorite dish, and he brought his mother’s best cobbler. It was while the Sun tried to kill itself, falling from the sky one early autumn afternoon that Oscar found a way to woo the songbird.
Oscar was breathing heavily almost gasping for air now. His mind had just run from end to end the abridged version of his only romantic excursion. He didn’t know what to do, so he just walked to their bedroom and looked at her side of the bed; she was a right side sleeper. That side of the bed he had refused to touch since she made it last May. He had been sleeping on top of the sheets with his knees pulled up to his chest teetering on the left side; it had been an unseasonable autumn. Oscar stood there for a while, taking in the dark night of the mind in sharp puffs of air. He then went back to that day and tried to remember what the first fight had been about; maybe it had been about what to do for the holidays. He would have wanted to stay home and she would have had reason to see her parents. The images were blurred and upside-down and his mind couldn’t make sense of them. Whatever the fight had been over, he wished he had made more concessions. She hadn’t been well for sometime, taking days off of work and seeing a specialist. She did not tell him but had he been paying attention he would have known.
A tumor seemed so impossible to him, no more real to him than a Detective Comics #27. He would never see one so he had no reason to concern himself with it. Now on this night disappointment and regret collided, the wreckage blocking four lanes of rush-hour traffic. He had no plans to go to a funeral this weekend; he had to redirect focus. He knew she had to die alone just as he had to and just like everyone has to. He also knew he had done something wrong.

Idylls of the Meadowlark

A cheap ballpoint pen exploded in his hand today. The ink splattered on his face and soiled his pants. It was the first time since grade school he managed to ruin a pair of pants like that. A thin line of black ink lay vertically over his left lens. He was embarrassed by his display of anger. He had been alone with no one to see his fit, but he knew the harassment he would receive had she been sitting in his cubical. It would have been a glance of judgment no longer than a moment, but long enough that he could measure the amount of her love he had lost. He collected his papers, nothing more than reports and spread sheets. He walked the few city blocks to the subway station and caught one of the dingy tin boxes headed his way.
He had a message on his answering machine that he ignored. He worked his way to the kitchen dropping his keys and unsorted mail on the table. Then rummaging through his pragmatically stocked cupboards, no more than the things that sustained life, he pulled out a can and almost made a Rorschach styled human-bean juice joke to himself, but instead thought it better to just consume in silence. After his banquet, he went into the spare room. It was filled with boxes of her clothes. He found his Radio Flyer red toolbox and removed the Acetone. He took off his pants and examined the stain. It looked as if he had leaked a blight from his crotch. As he continued to look, the phone began to ring and so he started in on the stain pouring the chemical solution directly on his office drone, standard, tan pants. The brackish black and blue of the stain grew, like yet another bruise. Discouraged, he tossed the pants in a hamper and started out of the spare room.
“Oscar... Oscar pick up. Fine, you know you have to be there this weekend. I’ve already sent you the information and anyway I really think we should talk. That’s what people do. They talk. Call me back before Friday. It’s not your fault you didn’t know.” Oscar had only just crossed the frame of the door before he was drawn into a world his mind had buried in the cool, damp, dirt of the Earth(Why would a pirate bury treasure? He must have experienced an emotional trauma that ruined its value.). He fell to the floor; his heart and lungs dancing between expansion and contraction; his eyes darting from reverie to reality until, he was with two feet firmly planted in an episode from his past.
On a lark, at a romantic age, standing in between the larches and the scrub he pulled back the hammer on his phone; it rang once, it rang twice, it rang three times, and after the third, he began to think about the bedlam of thoughts that would spray across the grass when she picked up and fired. He imagined how the dogs would roll in the grass smearing his wet, sticky, and timid desires all over their coats, confusing what was his very strength and vitality, a sap of sorts, for nothing more than morning dew. These thoughts were cut short as he heard a greeting on the other end of the line. To his amazement, he was not blown away by the ejaculate launched from the speaker of his phone, but instead he was taken aback by the modesty of the tones being emitted. This however did not fill him with courage. He fumbled around with his tongue, touching and running over ideas and emotions until they simply became sodden with his spit. He started to lose hope in himself the longer this went on. He had gone through the trouble of getting her number in true Lloyd Dobler fashion without finding the wherewithal to ask her out. His words continued to leak from his mouth until finally she cut through what was becoming an indecipherable stream, for fear of drowning. She suggested a meeting in a public place, well lit and filled with escape routes. They picnicked in the park, she made her second favorite dish, and he brought his mother’s best cobbler. It was while the Sun tried to kill itself, falling from the sky one early autumn afternoon that Oscar found a way to woo the songbird.
Oscar was breathing heavily almost gasping for air now. His mind had just run from end to end the abridged version of his only romantic excursion. He didn’t know what to do, so he just walked to their bedroom and looked at her side of the bed; she was a right side sleeper. That side of the bed he had refused to touch since she made it last May. He had been sleeping on top of the sheets with his knees pulled up to his chest teetering on the left side; it had been an unseasonable autumn. Oscar stood there for a while, taking in the dark night of the mind in sharp puffs of air. He then went back to that day and tried to remember what the first fight had been about; maybe it had been about what to do for the holidays. He would have wanted to stay home and she would have had reason to see her parents. The images were blurred and upside-down and his mind couldn’t make sense of them. Whatever the fight had been over, he wished he had made more concessions. She hadn’t been well for sometime, taking days off of work and seeing a specialist. She did not tell him but had he been paying attention he would have known.
A tumor seemed so impossible to him, no more real to him than a Detective Comics #27. He would never see one so he had no reason to concern himself with it. Now on this night disappointment and regret collided, the wreckage blocking four lanes of rush-hour traffic. He had no plans to go to a funeral this weekend; he had to redirect focus. He knew she had to die alone just as he had to and just like everyone has to. He also knew he had done something wrong.

Nintendo pulled a no no

Image by Joachim S. Müller via Flickr"president of nintedo Satoru Iwata explained during a Japanese conference documenting the Q3 earnings of the company that the usual lifespan of a console is five years, and that fresh hardware is often the result of the company needing a "new weapon in the fight against other consoles." With the Wii, however, Iwata feels that the company won't be needing any new weapons for quite some time."


you can thank G4 for that news. Now I love the big the N but come off it Iwata what are you saying. I'll hand it to you Super Mario Galaxy is a great looking game and has great game play also but if you really try to push the Wii more than five years with only 480p people are going to drop the Wii like a hot cake. The newer different control style is nice but without the power to make huge worlds and push A.I. to the next level you'll have a problem on your hands. I think Nintendo should take the money they are making from the Wii and build a super Wii with 1080p and an HD dvd player. Also a hard drive would be nice. Most of all take some time to make the controller better.Well thats just what I think but I would also like to know what you the readers think so feel free to voice your view points.

Video Review : Zack and Wiki

Wiiware Lineup

Image via WikipediaBy now every gamer should know about "Wiiware" also know as Wii Software. Well we have been promised games since 2006 and now we are told that the games should be coming in March of 2008. Hmmm. One question still remains what games are we getting and how many are third-party. Well from the Nintendo development side of things we will see


*Dr. Mario & Saikin Bokumetsu ( which translates to "Bacteria Extermination") This is just a remake of your classic Dr. Mario puzzler but thats not Nintendo enough even for the big N so they have added Miis. Also there is to be an online mode in which you can challenge friends.

*Pokemon Bokujou Channel ( which translates to "Pokemon Ranch Channel")Will have you taking your Pokemon from your Diamond and Pearl games on the DS and putting them onto your Wii which sounds just as lame as Pokemon Battle Revolution but Nintendo never being one not to shove cute down your throat is adding you guessed it Miis. You're able to drag your Miis to your ranch and take pictures of your Pokemon which can then be sent to friends.

In the third-party department we have

*Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles: Little King and the Promise Country. Now this one I am looking forward to a lot.Well because this is a whole game. This really means more indie game makers can get great games to the masses. Now if you don't know Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles was a Gamecube title from way back in 2004. I really don't remember much after the Dreamcast died it was like a five year party.( ha see the math doesn't even add up. which means the party is still going on! Hold on a sec so I can go get a gin on the rocks.) In any case if you do remember the game it was like most Final Fantasy games,well received overall. Now it has comeback and this is what we know

* Takes place after the events of the original Crystal Chronicles on GameCube
* Players will take the role of the Little King, a Clavat-race by the name of Leo. With special powers called "The Architect" endowed upon by the crystals, you will need to rebuild and establish a new country in the barren lands.
* You will assign explorers (essentially warriors and mages) to seek and gather precious elements.
* It will be available for 1500 Wii Points and is scheduled for distribution in Japan on March of next year.

Look for our full review sometime in 2008...If I don't blackout.We will also have news on any other Wiiware as news becomes public.

Brawl Stage Builder

Image via WikipediaWell it finally happened Nintendo gave in to die hard Brawl fans demands and put in a stage editor. Brawl fans have rejoiced in great joy while they stayed up all night with there eyes glued to there computer (Or TV screen if you use a Wii for your online purposes) screen to find out the latest news. Now as you can see there coffee drinking efforts were not wasted.


-We'll keep you posted as to any news that arrives

Webb Alert

Image via CrunchBaseWe will now post Webb Alert on this blog and also post news on tech not just games great I know. If you don't know about this podcast you can read this info.


WebbAlert is the website and daily videocast of the popular TV host Morgan Webb, covering the day's developments in tech news, video gaming, gadgetry, and digital culture,. Succinct, articulate, and visually engaging, it's engineered to keep the busy tech executive and the avid tech consumer current on industry news and trends with a small investment of just a few minutes per day. Morgan Webb also hosts the popular TV program X-Play. Available in over 62 million homes and well past its 500th episode, X-Play is TV's longest-running and most-watched series focused on videogames. She was rated the 51st sexiest woman in the world in 2007 by the readers of FHM, but what truly inspires loyalty in her legions of fans is the fact she is as steeped in technology as they are. A web engineer before stumbling into a career in television, Ms. Webb has been building and modifying her own computers for years, and is a lifelong hardcore gamer.