Yesterday sucked more than a little for the passing of Robert Culp at the age of 79. Apparently, the long time actor fell while taking a walk and died as a result of a head injury. Some reports have stated that he died of a heart attack while others continue to report that the head injury was the fatal event.
Just looking over the considerable resume in IMDb, it becomes clear that Culp didn't lack for work over a career that spanned over 50 years and had him both in front of and behind the camera. A large portion of that career was spent in television where his most well known work was in comedy. Older viewers remember his work with Bill Cosby in I Spy, a groundbreaking series because of the casting of an African-American lead actor, while younger viewers most readily will recall his work in Everybody Loves Raymond.
So why would an appreciation article show up on a blog notionally oriented towards gaming and geek culture? Because, for all of his comedy work, Culp made a lasting impression on geeks playing FBI agent Bill Maxwell on The Greatest American Hero. True, he wasn't the guy in tights. However, he was in some ways the prototype for characters like David Duchovny's Fox Mulder on The X-Files, the Fed assigned to make sense of the seemingly inexplicable. And while the series wasn't exactly the height of high art, even in the '80s, it would have been a lot less entertaining without Culp's talents. Years later, Culp proved that he wasn't just a good actor but a great one when he spoofed his role on Robot Chicken. An actor that can laugh at himself, and previous long time roles, deserves to be considered as great.
Culp's connection to the geekier side of life wasn't just '80s TV. He played what might be one of the most nuanced and frighteningly realistic video game villains in the persona of Dr. Wallace Breen in Half-Life 2. Rather than chew up the scenery or go over the top, Culp went the other direction, giving gamers a nemesis that sounds seductively reasonable even as he advocates the supine surrender of humanity to alien conquerors. As loathsome as his goals are, one can't help but admit that the bad guy is disgustingly smooth, and you almost feel the faint bit of regret as he informs you of the horrific demise he's got planned for you. It's a rare performance and it should be required study for any voice actor.
Robert Culp holds a special place in the hearts and minds of geeks and we're going to miss him terribly.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
"We Have A Turd In The Punch Bowl"
One of the many things that I missed out on while I was working graveyard shifts was getting a chance to see new episodes of South Park. Last week, I got the chance to catch a season premiere. Admittedly, I was more interested about catching the series premiere of Ugly Americans, but catching the premiere of South Park after missing the last few seasons of it was a pleasant little bonus. It didn't fail to disappoint. After all these years, Matt Stone and Trey Parker have kept their satirical edge wickedly sharp, and they pulled no punches to kick the season off. I suppose it wouldn't be a South Park episode if it didn't offend somebody. However, the offended party in this case is not who you would initially expect.
The premiere centered around Tiger Woods and his recent sex scandal. Hilarity ensued as Kyle, Kenny, and Butters were all diagnosed as future sex addicts and were stuck in a therapy group with other luminaries as Charlie Sheen, Bill Clinton, David Letterman, and Woods. As usual, the message was pretty straightforward: "Don't screw around! Be honest with your spouse! Take responsibility for your actions!" It never fails to amuse me that, as much howling and screaming as some people make about how offensive South Park is, the show consistently holds up the fundamental message that we need to be decent human beings to each other. However, the controversy concerning the premiere has nothing to do with the unflattering parody of Tiger Woods or his wife, or even the general cycle of "deny, confess, apologize" that has reached the level of cliche in the public consciousness. It appears that EA Sports has announced plans to sue Stone and Parker (or at least their studio), most likely making an argument for infringing on EA's copyright of Tiger Woods PGA Tour 11.
According to a post on Daily Informer, a source inside EA Sports has said that shortly after the episode aired, the suits at EA sat down, discussed the episode, and apparently proceeded to discuss how best to proceed with a lawsuit. At the time of this writing, there does not appear to be any official word from Stone & Parker about getting sued. My prediction: there's not a hope in hell this suit will succeed, though it doubtlessly net the legal departments involved a tidy little bundle of billable hours between the time the first papers are filed and the moment the judge's gavel comes down after the words, "Case dismissed!" finish echoing in the courtroom. Come on, if Scientology can't squash these guys, EA Sports doesn't stand a chance.
Let's take a closer look, shall we? EA Sports' only possible angle is a flimsy argument that South Park somehow infringed upon Tiger Woods PGA Tour 11, a fictitious version of which was used as a narrative device for the episode. Somehow, EA's lawyers would have to convince a judge and or jury that the scenes in the episode were representative of the actual game. Unless the developers are willing to create the kind of DLC needed to turn a high end golf simulator into a Street Fighter-esque fighting game with "Pre-Nup Power-ups" and scenes involving marital violence, Vicodin abuse, and press conferences, not even the most jaded or pop culture deprived jurist could avoid seeing quite clearly that the depiction of the game and the actual game have absolutely nothing in common. When a show regularly disclaims at the start of every episode that the presentation viewers are about to see is quite obviously a parody, and proceeds to demonstrate quite thoroughly that it is a parody, no amount of pettifogging legalistic sleight-of-hand is going to come even close to making the case reach trial. EA Sports would have no standing to bring a suit because of the depiction of Tiger Woods in the episode. Nor would they have any standing to bring a suit because of the licensed use of Tiger Woods' name or the mention of the Professional Golf Association in the title of the game. Even the mention of the title falls under the parody exceptions.
When South Park put World of WarCraft in it's crosshairs, the guys at Blizzard not only got the joke, but incorporated the title of the episode into the game as an achievement. Nintendo didn't summon the lawyers when South Park made fun of the wait involved for the first Wii systems. There wasn't a hue and a cry when Guitar Hero was spoofed. This is quite obviously the stupidest example of filing suit for no other reason than "the honor of the flag" that EA or its subsidiaries has come up with in recent memory. Somewhere, there has got to be somebody, hopefully in the legal department of EA or EA Sports, that will sit down with the suits and make it painfully clear to them that they're wasting a lot of time, money, and resources that don't need to be wasted. The only person who might possibly be offended enough to try a lawsuit would be Tiger Woods himself, and chances are his own legal advisers have made it clear to him that he's got no shot. The only thing this lawsuit will accomplish will be to add another notch, and a very high profile notch, on the belt of a show which has faced down bigger and meaner opponents than EA and won without breaking a sweat.
The premiere centered around Tiger Woods and his recent sex scandal. Hilarity ensued as Kyle, Kenny, and Butters were all diagnosed as future sex addicts and were stuck in a therapy group with other luminaries as Charlie Sheen, Bill Clinton, David Letterman, and Woods. As usual, the message was pretty straightforward: "Don't screw around! Be honest with your spouse! Take responsibility for your actions!" It never fails to amuse me that, as much howling and screaming as some people make about how offensive South Park is, the show consistently holds up the fundamental message that we need to be decent human beings to each other. However, the controversy concerning the premiere has nothing to do with the unflattering parody of Tiger Woods or his wife, or even the general cycle of "deny, confess, apologize" that has reached the level of cliche in the public consciousness. It appears that EA Sports has announced plans to sue Stone and Parker (or at least their studio), most likely making an argument for infringing on EA's copyright of Tiger Woods PGA Tour 11.
According to a post on Daily Informer, a source inside EA Sports has said that shortly after the episode aired, the suits at EA sat down, discussed the episode, and apparently proceeded to discuss how best to proceed with a lawsuit. At the time of this writing, there does not appear to be any official word from Stone & Parker about getting sued. My prediction: there's not a hope in hell this suit will succeed, though it doubtlessly net the legal departments involved a tidy little bundle of billable hours between the time the first papers are filed and the moment the judge's gavel comes down after the words, "Case dismissed!" finish echoing in the courtroom. Come on, if Scientology can't squash these guys, EA Sports doesn't stand a chance.
Let's take a closer look, shall we? EA Sports' only possible angle is a flimsy argument that South Park somehow infringed upon Tiger Woods PGA Tour 11, a fictitious version of which was used as a narrative device for the episode. Somehow, EA's lawyers would have to convince a judge and or jury that the scenes in the episode were representative of the actual game. Unless the developers are willing to create the kind of DLC needed to turn a high end golf simulator into a Street Fighter-esque fighting game with "Pre-Nup Power-ups" and scenes involving marital violence, Vicodin abuse, and press conferences, not even the most jaded or pop culture deprived jurist could avoid seeing quite clearly that the depiction of the game and the actual game have absolutely nothing in common. When a show regularly disclaims at the start of every episode that the presentation viewers are about to see is quite obviously a parody, and proceeds to demonstrate quite thoroughly that it is a parody, no amount of pettifogging legalistic sleight-of-hand is going to come even close to making the case reach trial. EA Sports would have no standing to bring a suit because of the depiction of Tiger Woods in the episode. Nor would they have any standing to bring a suit because of the licensed use of Tiger Woods' name or the mention of the Professional Golf Association in the title of the game. Even the mention of the title falls under the parody exceptions.
When South Park put World of WarCraft in it's crosshairs, the guys at Blizzard not only got the joke, but incorporated the title of the episode into the game as an achievement. Nintendo didn't summon the lawyers when South Park made fun of the wait involved for the first Wii systems. There wasn't a hue and a cry when Guitar Hero was spoofed. This is quite obviously the stupidest example of filing suit for no other reason than "the honor of the flag" that EA or its subsidiaries has come up with in recent memory. Somewhere, there has got to be somebody, hopefully in the legal department of EA or EA Sports, that will sit down with the suits and make it painfully clear to them that they're wasting a lot of time, money, and resources that don't need to be wasted. The only person who might possibly be offended enough to try a lawsuit would be Tiger Woods himself, and chances are his own legal advisers have made it clear to him that he's got no shot. The only thing this lawsuit will accomplish will be to add another notch, and a very high profile notch, on the belt of a show which has faced down bigger and meaner opponents than EA and won without breaking a sweat.
Monday, March 22, 2010
First Caracas, Then Zurich
Up until a few weeks ago, if you'd asked me offhand what Venezuela and Switzerland had in common, I'd have been hard pressed to come up with an answer beyond the fact that they both existed on Planet Earth. It now seems that, barring the restoration of sanity to the legislative process, Switzerland will be the second country inside of a month to issue a total ban on "violent" video games.
Switzerland's National Council (the equivalent of the U.S. House of Representatives, I believe) approved a bill that would ultimately lead to the total ban of any computer or console game that it deems unacceptably violent. The original draft of the legislation called for banning the production, sale, or distribution of any game which "requires cruel acts of violence against humans and humanlike creatures for in-game success" within Swiss borders. There is some question as to whether the upper chamber of the Swiss parliament will go along with this or if they'll exhibit some common sense and stop this bill dead. Even if the bill passes the upper house, it's apparently a lot easier for Swiss citizens to get a stupid law repealed than it is here in the States. One would hope that Swiss gamers would rally to get this idiocy overturned.
However little I might like the idea of a Swiss game ban, or any country enacting a game ban for that matter, I must extend a grudging degree of respect to the Swiss parliament for entertaining reasoned debate on the matter, however flawed the reasoning might be. In sharp contrast is the measure passed in Venezuela last summer which finally went into effect just under two weeks ago. For the crime of making, selling, renting, importing, or distributing "video games or programs that can be used on personal computers, arcade systems, consoles, portable devices or mobile telephones, or any other electronic or telephonic device, that contain information or images that promote or incite violence and the use of weapons," you're looking at a sentence of three to five years in a Venezuelan prison. If you're guilty of merely buying or promoting such a game, you just get hit with a fine. Somehow, I don't think you'd get a lot of sympathy by claiming you're a political prisoner because you sold a copy of Final Fantasy XIII on the streets of Caracas. President Hugo Chavez went on record earlier this year and denounced PlayStation games specifically (and presumably games on other platforms in general) as "poison" and a capitalist plot "to sow violence so they can later sell weapons."
Reasoned or insanely unreasoned, complete bans on video games will accomplish precisely nothing. They will not make street crime magically disappear. They will not cause teenage disaffection and alienation to become a thing of the past. They will not guarantee moral or ideological purity of the masses. They will not make people happier, more productive, or more content. The only thing they will do is turn an otherwise productive segment of a nation's population into criminals, whether it is on the supply side or the demand side of the market, while completely overtaxing law enforcement resources which could be better utilized for more serious crimes. And still, in every country that has even the rudiments of a parliamentary system, there's some nutjob who thinks that banning violent video games will cure all the ills that face their nation.
So far, at the state level in America, violent video game bans have been passed and overturned as unconstitutional. I suspect that a similar fate awaits the Swiss ban, though it's also possible a gamer sponsored referendum will remind Swiss parliamentarians that they work for the people. As for Venezuela, well, that one might have to wait until Hugo Chavez and his glorious socialist paradise die together. And what of other nations that have or are considering bans on violent video games? My advice: don't. Scrap the ones you've got. Forget about trying to pass them if they don't exist. Too many people have chased the chimera of "better living through banning video games" and have nothing to show for their efforts but disgruntled citizens and irritated cops. It is a fool's errand pursued to create a fool's paradise.
Wake up and smell the ashes.
Switzerland's National Council (the equivalent of the U.S. House of Representatives, I believe) approved a bill that would ultimately lead to the total ban of any computer or console game that it deems unacceptably violent. The original draft of the legislation called for banning the production, sale, or distribution of any game which "requires cruel acts of violence against humans and humanlike creatures for in-game success" within Swiss borders. There is some question as to whether the upper chamber of the Swiss parliament will go along with this or if they'll exhibit some common sense and stop this bill dead. Even if the bill passes the upper house, it's apparently a lot easier for Swiss citizens to get a stupid law repealed than it is here in the States. One would hope that Swiss gamers would rally to get this idiocy overturned.
However little I might like the idea of a Swiss game ban, or any country enacting a game ban for that matter, I must extend a grudging degree of respect to the Swiss parliament for entertaining reasoned debate on the matter, however flawed the reasoning might be. In sharp contrast is the measure passed in Venezuela last summer which finally went into effect just under two weeks ago. For the crime of making, selling, renting, importing, or distributing "video games or programs that can be used on personal computers, arcade systems, consoles, portable devices or mobile telephones, or any other electronic or telephonic device, that contain information or images that promote or incite violence and the use of weapons," you're looking at a sentence of three to five years in a Venezuelan prison. If you're guilty of merely buying or promoting such a game, you just get hit with a fine. Somehow, I don't think you'd get a lot of sympathy by claiming you're a political prisoner because you sold a copy of Final Fantasy XIII on the streets of Caracas. President Hugo Chavez went on record earlier this year and denounced PlayStation games specifically (and presumably games on other platforms in general) as "poison" and a capitalist plot "to sow violence so they can later sell weapons."
Reasoned or insanely unreasoned, complete bans on video games will accomplish precisely nothing. They will not make street crime magically disappear. They will not cause teenage disaffection and alienation to become a thing of the past. They will not guarantee moral or ideological purity of the masses. They will not make people happier, more productive, or more content. The only thing they will do is turn an otherwise productive segment of a nation's population into criminals, whether it is on the supply side or the demand side of the market, while completely overtaxing law enforcement resources which could be better utilized for more serious crimes. And still, in every country that has even the rudiments of a parliamentary system, there's some nutjob who thinks that banning violent video games will cure all the ills that face their nation.
So far, at the state level in America, violent video game bans have been passed and overturned as unconstitutional. I suspect that a similar fate awaits the Swiss ban, though it's also possible a gamer sponsored referendum will remind Swiss parliamentarians that they work for the people. As for Venezuela, well, that one might have to wait until Hugo Chavez and his glorious socialist paradise die together. And what of other nations that have or are considering bans on violent video games? My advice: don't. Scrap the ones you've got. Forget about trying to pass them if they don't exist. Too many people have chased the chimera of "better living through banning video games" and have nothing to show for their efforts but disgruntled citizens and irritated cops. It is a fool's errand pursued to create a fool's paradise.
Wake up and smell the ashes.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Now we just need the Trilateral Commission . . .
Amid all the brouhaha over the health care bill, there's another bill currently in committee in the Senate which probably will make it out of committee without much in the way of serious debate. As reported by Declan McCullagh on this CNET news piece, Sen. Jay Rockefeller (D-WV) has reintroduced a bill that went nowhere fast last year. While a large chunk of the text of the bill appears to be proposed rules for certification of cybersecurity professionals, there are some elements of the bill that are particularly disturbing despite language which states that civil liberties will be protected.
Towards the start of the so-called Cybersecurity Act of 2010 (S.773), one of the stated goals of the bill is to grant the President the power to designate a specific system as a "United States critical infrastructure information system" which meets sufficient criteria (to be determined later) such that if said system was compromised, it would constitute a threat to "strategic national interests." While there is a phrase buried halfway into the text that states the act is not to be construed as an expansion of existing Presidential authorities, it seems exceedingly difficult not to quantify what is essentially nationalization of currently held private sector Internet assets by Presidential fiat under the guise of a "cybersecurity emergency" as anything less than such an expansion. Language further down in the text may delimit how long such an emergency may be used as justification, but the language doesn't feel like it is sufficiently robust to guarantee a showdown between Congress and the President will end well for Congress, or by extension American users of the Internet.
I'll be the first to admit that when it comes to cybersecurity, America could probably learn to do a lot better keeping the doors locked. And while there's a part of me that wouldn't mind seeing cybersecurity get some genuine attention from the government, I think this is the wrong way to go about it. I think federally mandated and designed certification schemes do not carry any inherently greater likelihood of effectiveness than MCSE, A+, Net+, CCNA, or any one of the other dozens of alphabet soup certifications that overpromise and underdeliver. If I've learned anything in my hunt for employment, it's that hiring managers are desperate to see those certifications on resumes while recruiters are perfectly aware that the certs aren't worth a damn. They look pretty but they're proof only that somebody paid to take a test and didn't flunk it. While the bill calls for people who have plans for a career in cybersecurity to be the primary beneficiary of the training programs, I can't help but suspect that it will soon become the latest "trendy" certification. The shiny new degree that everybody will be scrambling to get and nobody will actually be able to practice.
Cybersecurity should not be quantified by committees and academics. It should not be raised to the level of a specialized discipline divorced from the larger fields of computer science and information technology. It should be a brutal Darwinian process that recognizes only the quick and the dead, or the l33t and the pwned if you prefer. It should be an endless battle of wits between the most vicious, most brilliant, most fearless and inventive minds who ever got root access on a box. Let the private sector take care of the private sector and the feds take care of the feds. If a company or government agency wants to go hunting for talent, let them pony up for contests where "capture the flag" becomes "own the box" and pick out the people who've proven they're the best at what they do instead of smiling at the shiny little acronym on their resume.
However great it sounds on the surface, this bill is not going to help America figure out how to protect itself on the Internet. It's an unworthy effort for unsavory ends by means of ineffective policies.
Towards the start of the so-called Cybersecurity Act of 2010 (S.773), one of the stated goals of the bill is to grant the President the power to designate a specific system as a "United States critical infrastructure information system" which meets sufficient criteria (to be determined later) such that if said system was compromised, it would constitute a threat to "strategic national interests." While there is a phrase buried halfway into the text that states the act is not to be construed as an expansion of existing Presidential authorities, it seems exceedingly difficult not to quantify what is essentially nationalization of currently held private sector Internet assets by Presidential fiat under the guise of a "cybersecurity emergency" as anything less than such an expansion. Language further down in the text may delimit how long such an emergency may be used as justification, but the language doesn't feel like it is sufficiently robust to guarantee a showdown between Congress and the President will end well for Congress, or by extension American users of the Internet.
I'll be the first to admit that when it comes to cybersecurity, America could probably learn to do a lot better keeping the doors locked. And while there's a part of me that wouldn't mind seeing cybersecurity get some genuine attention from the government, I think this is the wrong way to go about it. I think federally mandated and designed certification schemes do not carry any inherently greater likelihood of effectiveness than MCSE, A+, Net+, CCNA, or any one of the other dozens of alphabet soup certifications that overpromise and underdeliver. If I've learned anything in my hunt for employment, it's that hiring managers are desperate to see those certifications on resumes while recruiters are perfectly aware that the certs aren't worth a damn. They look pretty but they're proof only that somebody paid to take a test and didn't flunk it. While the bill calls for people who have plans for a career in cybersecurity to be the primary beneficiary of the training programs, I can't help but suspect that it will soon become the latest "trendy" certification. The shiny new degree that everybody will be scrambling to get and nobody will actually be able to practice.
Cybersecurity should not be quantified by committees and academics. It should not be raised to the level of a specialized discipline divorced from the larger fields of computer science and information technology. It should be a brutal Darwinian process that recognizes only the quick and the dead, or the l33t and the pwned if you prefer. It should be an endless battle of wits between the most vicious, most brilliant, most fearless and inventive minds who ever got root access on a box. Let the private sector take care of the private sector and the feds take care of the feds. If a company or government agency wants to go hunting for talent, let them pony up for contests where "capture the flag" becomes "own the box" and pick out the people who've proven they're the best at what they do instead of smiling at the shiny little acronym on their resume.
However great it sounds on the surface, this bill is not going to help America figure out how to protect itself on the Internet. It's an unworthy effort for unsavory ends by means of ineffective policies.
The First Post (with apologies to The Format)
"You should start a blog!"
This breathless pronouncement from a lovely otaku girl sounded like a perfectly brilliant plan to her. To me, the idea needed to be mulled over. A blog can be an insightful if unappreciated voice among the echo chamber of the Internet. It can also be a pile of narcissistic drivel. I tried explaining this to her. She nodded and smiled and cheerfully ignored my reservations.
"You should do it!" she told me with glee. "You're one of the best writers I know!"
An appeal to my vanity. Not an easy thing. I've always been a fairly modest sort of guy. Maybe a little too modest. Shameless self-promotion isn't something that comes naturally to me. I'd rather let my work speak for itself and let the reader decide whether or not it's good. Still, I'd like to think that I'm a pretty good writer, all things considered. And, as my otaku girl pointed out, it gets more of my writing out there to be seen. More people seeing it means more people knowing about it and probably even telling their friends about it.
"It's possible somebody could read the blog and use it against me," I told her cautiously. This is not an unreasonable concern. I've been out of work since mid-October. HR types seem to be looking for damn near any excuse not to hire somebody, or a cheap and easy reason to fire somebody. Some would argue that handing HR ferrets the ammunition needed to kill a job application is almost criminally stupid in the current job climate.
"Do it! You'd be so good at it!"
Otaku girls, I'm finding out, are exceedingly difficult to argue with when they get all excited about an idea.
As I thought about it more, the more the idea made sense. While I've been writing for The Armchair Empire for a few years now, and slowly accumulating press credibility, even my editor couldn't possibly keep up with the stuff that does everything from irritate to infuriate me. I like my editor too much to flood him like that. The longer I thought about it, the more the contrary streak in me liked the idea, not seeing the wisdom in it, but seeing the opportunity to stake out a position and spit in the eye of the first person who thought it would be a good idea to argue with me.
It's no longer a question of "if." It's not even a question of "when" anymore. For years now, I've been calling shenanigans when I see them, and doing so in almost excruciating detail. It's time to escalate my efforts.
This is my blog. I will always tell the truth. I will not apologize for my writings. I will not fear the consequences for speaking my mind.
That crazed op-ed writer for that Canadian game website went and got himself a blog. The Internet will never be the same.
This breathless pronouncement from a lovely otaku girl sounded like a perfectly brilliant plan to her. To me, the idea needed to be mulled over. A blog can be an insightful if unappreciated voice among the echo chamber of the Internet. It can also be a pile of narcissistic drivel. I tried explaining this to her. She nodded and smiled and cheerfully ignored my reservations.
"You should do it!" she told me with glee. "You're one of the best writers I know!"
An appeal to my vanity. Not an easy thing. I've always been a fairly modest sort of guy. Maybe a little too modest. Shameless self-promotion isn't something that comes naturally to me. I'd rather let my work speak for itself and let the reader decide whether or not it's good. Still, I'd like to think that I'm a pretty good writer, all things considered. And, as my otaku girl pointed out, it gets more of my writing out there to be seen. More people seeing it means more people knowing about it and probably even telling their friends about it.
"It's possible somebody could read the blog and use it against me," I told her cautiously. This is not an unreasonable concern. I've been out of work since mid-October. HR types seem to be looking for damn near any excuse not to hire somebody, or a cheap and easy reason to fire somebody. Some would argue that handing HR ferrets the ammunition needed to kill a job application is almost criminally stupid in the current job climate.
"Do it! You'd be so good at it!"
Otaku girls, I'm finding out, are exceedingly difficult to argue with when they get all excited about an idea.
As I thought about it more, the more the idea made sense. While I've been writing for The Armchair Empire for a few years now, and slowly accumulating press credibility, even my editor couldn't possibly keep up with the stuff that does everything from irritate to infuriate me. I like my editor too much to flood him like that. The longer I thought about it, the more the contrary streak in me liked the idea, not seeing the wisdom in it, but seeing the opportunity to stake out a position and spit in the eye of the first person who thought it would be a good idea to argue with me.
It's no longer a question of "if." It's not even a question of "when" anymore. For years now, I've been calling shenanigans when I see them, and doing so in almost excruciating detail. It's time to escalate my efforts.
This is my blog. I will always tell the truth. I will not apologize for my writings. I will not fear the consequences for speaking my mind.
That crazed op-ed writer for that Canadian game website went and got himself a blog. The Internet will never be the same.
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