Forget about it. (Via Jason Falls)

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Tonight’s debate is, like America’s future, all about Reduced Expectations. If Sarah Palin manages to remember what office she’s running for, she will have “managed expectations.” If Joe Biden manages to make it through the night without calling Gwen Ifill a “gorgeous negress,” he will have beaten his debilitating gaffe addiction. But what about the other 90 minutes of bullshit? Let’s make it fun — or hazy, at least — by taking a drink off your wine or beer when the following occurs:

• PALIN evades a question by mentioning state rights.
• BIDEN says he takes the train home every day.
• PALIN fills time by listing all her kids, by their ridiculous names.
• BIDEN talks about Scranton.
• PALIN blames Iraq for 9/11.
• BIDEN blames McCain for 9/11.
• PALIN says “like” as a White Trash discourse particle or interjection.
• BIDEN audibly laughs at Palin.
• PALIN stares blankly when she can’t answer a question.
• BIDEN makes a sarcastic joke that goes right over Palin’s head, along with about half the viewers.
• PALIN says anything comically retarded about Russia or Canada.

LIGHTNING BONUS ROUND:

The following situations call for One (1) Shot of Liquor:

• PALIN doesn’t know what FDIC or SEC stand for.
• BIDEN admits to plagiarizing the Constitution.
• PALIN admits to dealing meth.
• BIDEN references Palin’s stump speech insult — where she claims she’s been hearing about Biden’s Senate speeches since she was in second grade — by saying there’s no evidence Sarah Palin ever made it second grade.
• GWEN IFILL asks Sarah Palin about incestuous rape.
• PALIN insults Biden for having hair plugs.
• BIDEN calls her “another tanning booth whore, and I’ve know a few.”
• PALIN says “lipstick” in any context.

Finally: Three shots and throw the glass at the teevee if:

• BIDEN calls her a “hockey pig.”
• PALIN pulls off her pantsuit to reveal a confederate-flag one-piece bathing suit, and she looks fat, and the audience boos.

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Amazing Flash app in which a girl follows your mouse around with her eyes. Sound benign? It's not. [via kottke]

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Breakthrough game in which the calmer, more focused player will beat the stressed, amped-up player every time.

The object is to relax so that you are able to focus. The lower Alpha and Theta waves you have the better. That means that you are physically still and thus hopefully relaxed. Then focus. On what? On anything you like, as long as it keeps you focused during the game. A stressed player will definitely loose.

Link

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This was banned because we've become a nation of weenies and it's too scary and inappropriate to have people playing guns like kids like we did every single day between the ages of 7 and 10.  Enjoy this while you can before it's stricken from the Internet forever by the the appropriateness police.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qNuRQmvykwk]

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I suppose it's time to admit I was a Dungeons & Dragons player. My introduction to the game was sudden and unforeseen -- my best friend at the time, a kid named Joe, happened across it and played it with some friends. The next time Joe and I got together, he introduced me to it. It was that simple. To this day, I remember sitting in my bedroom as a boy on a weekend night, rolling my first character (fighter, human, name: Elric) and going on that first quest. I remember the first monsters I happened across (orcs, natch), and I killed them with relative ease. Joe Dungeon Mastered (DMed) the game, and it was only the two of us, but that was it. That was all I needed. I had discovered another world. We stayed up until 4 AM playing that night. Clearly, it was halcyonic.

From there, I played semi-routinely every weekend and on most snow-days throughout the next few years. I had everything all players did at the time: warriors with 18/00 strength (a near mathematical impossibility), insanely rare artifacts, and more weapons and gold than a modern cargo aircraft could haul. We made our own dungeons, crafted our own traps, and eventually worked our way up to Dungeon Masters from mere players, at which point we would do our best to appear neutral while desperately trying to kill the entire party. Arguments would break out between the party and DMs when it became apparent that the DM wasn't exactly a neutral deity.

I remember DMing one of my first games and the party was stuck in a 10x10 hallway facing a locked door. If memory serves, the door had a magic spell binding it shut, so a simple dispel magic would have worked. Instead, my party of chuckleheads did everything but: the fighter whaled away at the door with a battle axe, the thief broke about a dozen lockpicks trying to pick it, and the cleric literally thought it was cursed, so he blessed it. The door remained locked, and my friends were getting pissed. They started getting on me, but I was playing an official module (it was S1: Tomb of Horrors, if I recall correctly), so I remember just following the rules. The party was weak, hit-point-wise, because S1 was full of traps, and they were jacked up from falling into god knows how many spiked pits and being smacked in the face by whatever swung from the ceilings.

The thief couldn't detect squat. (What the cleric was doing -- or wasn't doing, more accurately -- I have no idea. Dude should have been healing nonstop.) Frustrations mounted and about a half hour went by with no progress. Finally, the magic user of the group, played by a kid named Shawn, decided fuck this door, he was taking it down, he had enough of this crap. I'll never forget the exchange:

"Fine. This door is toast. I cast fireball," Shawn said.

"You cast fireball at the door?" I said, thinking he was joking.

"Yes."

Shawn's character was something around a 12th or 13th level magic user, so his ability to cast high-damage fireballs was quite good. Knowing I shouldn't guide, I nonetheless divinely intervened. "Are you sure you want to do that?" I asked.

"Yes!" Shawn said, annoyed. He stood up from his chair and stood behind it, leaning his weight on the chair's back. The other party members fell right into line with Shawn, thinking he was genuinely onto something.

"'Kay. You sure?" I asked again, the heavens hinting.

"Yeah, Jeff, I'm sure." Shawn arose from his nervous lean and cracked a knuckle. I always admired kids who could crack their knuckles, because every time I tried, it hurt.

"Okay," I said.

Behind my DM screen, I started rolling dice. After about a minute of rolling saving throws versus fire for all party members, I announced, "Well then. Okay. You're all, um, dead."

"What?!" Shawn yelled. "How the hell --"

"Splash damage!" I yelled back. "You can't just go and cast 13th level fireballs at a locked door five feet from your face! I mean, DUH man! Jesus!"

Shawn threw a pewter figurine at me out of genuine anger and left to get another Mountain Dew. All of the other party members yelled at Shawn for turning them into smallish piles of ash and armor. One kid, named Tom, started to plead with me to bring his thief back, tiny tears forming in the corners of his eyes. As Shawn left the scene, he flipped us off as he ran up his own basement stairs. "That's really fair!" he yelled.

"Sure is stupid for a wizard," a boy named Russ said quietly. He looked mournfully at his cleric's character sheet. His face bore the same expression as if he had just been told his family had been devoured by jungle cats.

From those days on, I cultivated an interest in fantasy that took me from Michael Moorcock to JRR Tolkien to Stephen R. Donaldson to Terry Brooks. When computers came about, I naturally gravitated to digital RPGs. Despite whatever family drama was going on at the time, I could easily escape into these alternate realities. And I did. Whatever creativity I have today I attribute to my days playing fantasy RPGs, especially D&D, as it had such a heavy, warm power over me, a young boy, during my most formative years. The books and movies only served to reinforce the meme. Those literally were the days. They gave birth to my imagination, and even to this day, I still realize that power.

I hope something, somewhere, comes along and does the same thing for my son, now 5 years old. Ideally, imagination shouldn't be taught -- it must be found.

Gary Gygax, the co-creator of Dungeons & Dragons, passed away yesterday. Were it not for his creation, I don't think I ever would have stumbled across RPGs and everything that flowed downstream of them. Thanks, Gary, for everything. Wherever you are, hold Carsomyr high, be proud, and watch your back: the shadows are alive, as you well know.

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Once you start, you can't stop, because the goddamn thing eventually sends so many bugs at you that you begin to go insane and you just have to keep trying to protect your base and Jesus Christ there are a lot of bugs and why did you use your smart bomb and supersize so friggin' early? Bug Battle Combat

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Just after I post this I stumble across its personification in the purest form possible.  Proof positive that the universe talks if you're willing to listen.

Warning: Faith in humanity may be diminished after viewing.  Not intended for all audiences.  Viewers with IQs under 100 may fail to recognize the humor.

Wheel of Fortune Fail

[Via Cyn-C]

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Seriously, stop reading this. Go to another site. Do some work. Go outside. Do anything that does not involve clicking the link below, because it links to a stupidly addictive Flash game in which you just have to spin a maze to keep a ball safe, and you'll wind up wasting at least a half hour playing it. For starters.

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